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Angela St. Lawrence is the reigning queen of high-end, long distance training and Femme Domme phone sex, providing esoteric depravity for the aficionado, specializing in Erotic Fetish, Female Domination, Cock Control, Kinky Taboo and Sensual Debauchery. To make an appointment or speak with Ms. St. Lawrence  ...


Archive for January, 2009

Hell Hath No Fury

Friday, January 23rd, 2009

So, yeah, I took this test.  Not that I put much store in this online silliness — but it passes the time, particularly when you are avoiding what you should be doing.  And I’ve been more or less in avoidance mode for a while now.

The Dante’s Inferno Test has banished you to the Second Level of Hell!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

Level Score
Purgatory (Repenting Believers) Low
Level 1 – Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers) High
Level 2 (Lustful) Very High
Level 3 (Gluttonous) Low
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious) Moderate
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy) Low
Level 6 – The City of Dis (Heretics) Very Low
Level 7 (Violent) Moderate
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers) Moderate
Level 9 – Cocytus (Treacherous) Low

Take the Dante’s Inferno Hell Test

Okay, in my defense, the questions were very black and white … yes or no, true or false.  And I am just sooo not a black and white girl.  Then again, my results also include this bit of hell and brimstone warning:

You have come to a place mute of all light, where the wind bellows as the sea does in a tempest. This is the realm where the lustful spend eternity. Here, sinners are blown around endlessly by the unforgiving winds of unquenchable desire as punishment for their transgressions. The infernal hurricane that never rests hurtles the spirits onward in its rapine, whirling them round, and smiting, it molests them.  You have betrayed reason at the behest of your appetite for pleasure, and so here you are doomed to remain.

I actually kinda-sorta see the semi-truth in that last line, that I’ve betrayed reason for pleasure.  But it also notes that:

Cleopatra and Helen of Troy are two that share in your fate.

I think I can live with that.


Phone Sex Quote of the Day: 

What I like most about talking with you Angela, is that you are always so frank.  You do like being control, but you do it in such a human, heart-felt way that it is viscerally intimate.  When I am talking to you, it is like we are really in the same room.   ~ Very special Prick Tease Caller

xo, Angela

Here we are, here we are …

Thursday, January 22nd, 2009


Don’t Swallow Your Bubble Gum

Saturday, January 17th, 2009

Well, it did make me giggle.  Thanks, sis.

Faggotry, Foot Worship and Buggering

Thursday, January 15th, 2009

My Beer Buddy

by Louis Friend (Prurient Interests)

Despite us calling it "boys night out," most of the time Tony and I would hang out in his finished basement on our occasional evenings. Basketball season was our favorite. Tony’s wife, Marsha, would order us up a couple pizzas, stock the basement fridge with beer, and let boys be boys.

I don’t think that Marsha knew just what kind of boys we were being in the comfort of his plush rec space. Once we got down there and settled, Tony would have me strip for him. I’d get down on all fours and be his footstool. He’d rest his frosty mug of beer on the small of my back, sending a shiver up my spine I had to suppress, lest I spill a drop. All the while, my cock would be rock hard from serving him.

After a while, he’d finish his beer and set the glass aside. He’d have me kneel down, lower, and rub his bare feet. I took special care of him this way. Each week I’d rub and massage his soles. I’m sure that, of all the guys in the office, he had the softest and most pampered feet in our office.

Properly buffed and moisturized, Tony instructed me to worship his feet more deeply. I took each toe into my mouth, beginning with the little one on each foot and moving closer and closer to the big one. I loved to take his big toes in my mouth and suck them long and hard, lolling my tongue under them, feeling the ridges of his skin.

The first time we played this game was over a year ago. It was late–really late–and we had been drinking… a lot. After the game was over, Tony started flipping around and came to a softcore movie on one of his thousand cable channels. He started talking about how hot the girls in the movie were. Before I knew it, he had fished his cock out of his pants and was stroking it right in front of me.

I don’t know what it was but something came out in me seeing that. I just couldn’t help myself. It looked so big and full and… delicious. I bent over and put my hand over his, then I put the head of it in my mouth and started to suck. It just felt so right. He moaned and lay his head back over the edge of the couch, his mouth agape. I just kept sucking and stroking him, cupping his heavy hairy balls in my hand, feeling them tighten and hearing his breath get harder and heavier until he came, pumping his load into my mouth.

Since then, I’ve been his. We don’t talk about it much outside of his basement but once we’re together down there, I’m his.

While I love to suck his cock, what I really love is when he fucks me. I never knew that I’d want something like that but, shit, the next time we were together I was begging for it.

"Tony, will you fuck me?"

"What? Fuck your ass?"

I nodded. I felt like such a little bitch asking for it, but it just felt… I dunno… natural to want it. I wanted to feel him inside of me, deeper than my mouth.

He had me get over his ottoman and used some lube on my ass. That he had lube there, made me realize that he had thought of this as well. He put a finger in me and, oh, it felt so good. He started sliding it in and out and I couldn’t help but groan. I wanted him. I wanted him in me.

When he took his finger out, I felt empty. I wanted more. I wanted fullness. "Please, Tony, please fuck me."

He put the head of his cock against my asshole and pushed in. It was excruciating. "Oh, shit," I said, "Just… wait… keep it in me, but let me get used to it… oh." It felt huge inside of me. I felt like he was splitting me open. My ass was throbbing but wouldn’t you know, I wanted more.

"Can you take it, bitch?" he asked. Him calling me "bitch" just made me want it even more.

"Yes, please, oh, please, slide it into me. I need to feel it!"

He was happy to oblige. He pushed into me. My insides gripped at him and my cock spasmed as he buried himself deep. I could feel the heat from his body against me. I could feel the weight he was putting onto me. He began thrusting, fucking me. I was his now, completely. My hands clutched at the feet of the ottoman while he slammed me, again and again.

His hands grasped my ass, wrapping around to my hops, pulling me against him. Fucking me, grunting like an animal, possessing me.

"Oh, yes," he moaned and I felt his cock twitching inside of me, pulsing, cumming.

He started to pull out. "No, wait! Tony! Keep it inside of me, just for a little longer," I begged. He waited, his cock slowly getting softer, sliding out naturally, his breath going from ragged pants back to normal.

I lay there a little while longer, feeling his cum dripping out of me. I asked, "Will you do that again to me? Next time we’re together?"

"Sure," he sighed. "Can’t get enough, can you, fag?"

This made my cock twitch again. I could only answer, "Yes, sir."

And that’s how it’s been since. On occasion he’ll want things outside of our nights together. When he was going through a rough patch with his Marsha, I would meet him in the parking garage after work and suck him off before we both went home to our wives. I’m still all man to my Missus but when Tony and I get together, I’m his bitch, completely.


Interestingly enough, I recently created a fantasy very close to Mr. Friend’s scenario.  In fact — with a certain few twists here and there — I’ve conjured two entirely unique quasi-versions.Great minds think alike?  Or maybe it’s just that we — Mr. Friend, myself and , of course, my kinkster callers — are just intrepid gutter rats at heart.  Either way, fun was had by all and, if I do say so myself (and, believe me, I certainly do) two very kinky callers just love me to pieces.  Of course, the feeling is reciprocated.

You might wonder, considering their shared interests why I wouldn’t introduce one to the other.  But Angela, you may be asking, wouldn’t that be a Queer Boy’s dream-come-true?  Nah, not really.  Because, you see, neither want to be Tony.  They want to be the submissive friend who takes it up the ass. 

And did you notice the narrator-sub did not get to have an orgasm?  It’s what I call The Paradox of Submissive Phone Sex.  It goes something like this:  In REAL LIFE when a man is submitting, he might very well serve as a footstool, administer foot worship and be fucked by the Dominant.  And, as the story illustrates, the Dominant usually at some point uses the slave to sate their own sexual desire, culminating in the Dominant’s orgasm, while the submissive does not get relief.  His role is very much objectified; he is a means to an end, and it’s all about the Dominant’s satisfaction. 


In a Phone Sex Fantasy it is exactly this fact that the Dominant is using the submissive for his own selfish needs, without any regard for slave’s sexual fulfillment, that cause the Phone Sex Submissive to have an orgasm.  

Which I guess could lead to the conclusion that, if you want to orgasm when serving a Master, it’s better to do it as a fantasy.  Lucky for me, eh?

xo, Angela

Sneaker Porn

Tuesday, January 13th, 2009

Sneaker Porn


What really really really gets me hot.


What I bought myself for Christmas.


Adorable or what?  Designed by Marc Ecko, I just had to have them.  Surely you can’t blame me … right?  And you can find them here.  We will not mention the fact that I have seven shoe boxes piled in the corner of my bedroom waiting to find a permanent home in my closet … seven pairs of shoes which I somehow kept buying in between all the holiday shopping.  I’m a bad girl!  But I know you like it.

So if you have a Sneaker Fetish (not to mention Stiletto, Boot, Sandal, Peep Toe, etc. etc. etc.) … Oh, yes, I’m most definitely you’re girl!

Incidentally, Mr. Ecko is a pretty interesting guy, living his Post-Modern American Dream.  Quite inspiring.  Plus, he’s cute.

xo, Angela