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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 July, 2009

A Poem to Make You Cry

Wednesday, July 29th, 2009


Tony Hoagland

When the medication she was taking
caused tiny vessels in her face to break,
leaving faint but permanent blue stitches in her cheeks,
my sister said she knew she would
never be beautiful again.

After all those years
of watching her reflection in the mirror,
sucking in her stomach and standing straight,
she said it was a relief,
being done with beauty,

but I could see her pause inside that moment
as the knowledge spread across her face
with a fine distress, sucking
the peach out of her lips,
making her cute nose seem, for the first time,
a little knobby.

I’m probably the only one in the whole world
who actually remembers the year in high school
she perfected the art
of being a dumb blond,

spending recess on the breezeway by the physics lab,
tossing her hair and laughing that canary trill
which was her specialty,

while some football player named Johnny
with a pained expression in his eyes
wrapped his thick finger over and over again
in the bedspring of one of those pale curls.

Or how she spent the next decade of her life
auditioning a series of tall men,
looking for just one with the kind
of attention span she could count on.

Then one day her time of prettiness
was over, done, finito,
and all those other beautiful women
in the magazines and on the streets
just kept on being beautiful
everywhere you looked,

walking in that kind of elegant, disinterested trance
in which you sense they always seem to have one hand
touching the secret place
that keeps their beauty safe,
inhaling and exhaling the perfume of it—

It was spring. Season when the young
buttercups and daisies climb up on the
mulched bodies of their forebears
to wave their flags in the parade.

My sister just stood still for thirty seconds,
amazed by what was happening,
then shrugged and tossed her shaggy head
as if she was throwing something out,

something she had carried a long ways,
but had no use for anymore,
now that it had no use for her.
That, too, was beautiful.

I dunno, maybe you think the poem is inappropriate for a Phone Sex blog.  But this is also my personal blog and I don’t really see the everyday me (lover of words and poetry) very separate from my Phone Sex Goddess persona, and … well … this piece touched me deeply.  I did cry.  Maybe you will too. 

You can read a biography of the poet here, find him on Wikipedia here,  and read an interview here.

xo, Angela

… and thanks,  PQS.

****BTW … I will be working later today.  I have a session with my trainer and a few errands to run.  After that, you can call for Hot Kinky Phone Sex HERE!

****And if you want your ass kicked by the best call Domina Stern HERE!

****And if you want to pay for your strokes call Mistress Sherry Elizabeth HERE!

Dirty Pikchures? Maybe.

Monday, July 27th, 2009


Phone Sex EMail

Tuesday, July 14th, 2009


Well once — when I refused to do Racial Humiliation — I actually got this one:  Get off your fucking high hourse [sic], you fucking cunt.  Sigh.  And you wonder why sometimes I just want to turn off the phones, curl up under a blanket and watch a good old-fashioned movie on Turner Classic Movies.  (BTW … you can download some pretty damn cool FREE  backgrounds and screen savers — including It’s a Bikini World, Great Expectations, and Have Rocket, Will Travel from TCM right HERE.) 

Oops!  There I go digressing again.

I get a lot of jokes.

Mr. D. — who happens to be rather unhappily married sent me this:


After all the background checks, interviews and testing were done, there were 3 finalists; two men and a woman.

For the final test, the FBI agents took one of the men to a large metal door and handed him a gun. They told him, "We must know that you will follow your instructions no matter what the circumstances."  Inside the room you will find your wife sitting in a chair.  Kill her!!"  The man said, "You can’t be serious. I could never shoot my wife." The agent said, ‘Then you’re not the right man for this job. Take your wife and go home."

The second man was given the same instructions. He took the gun and went into the room. All was quiet for about 5 minutes. The man came out with tears in his eyes, "I tried, but I can’t kill my wife."  The agent said, "You don’t have what it takes. Take your wife and go home."

Finally, it was the woman’s turn. She was given the same instructions to kill her husband. She took the gun and went into the room. Shots were heard, one after another. They heard screaming, crashing, banging on the walls. After a few minutes, all was quiet.

The door opened slowly and there stood the woman, wiping the sweat from her brow. "This gun is loaded with blanks," she said. "I had to beat him to death with the chair."

MORAL:  Women are crazy. Don’t mess with them.

Sometimes, after a call, I will get the sweetest Thank You EMail:

Thank you so much for our encounter today. It was a pleasure in every way imaginable. It’s been a long time since an erotic and kinky encounter felt so right. I do believe I could’ve chatted with you for hours (kinky or not).

Or a humorous follow-up:

My mother would be proud…well…..  Love, Mr. M.

Maybe something to both tickle and impress:

May I compare thee to a summer rose?  I know you make me thorny.

Or an invitation:

I’m going to be in your neck of the woods August 18 and 19.  Would you consider getting together?  Just for a cup of coffee, of course.

And of course I get zillions of Fantasy Requests and they do run the gamut:

***Will you be my Twisted Psychiatrist and turn me into your Nasty Bimbo Slut?  (this included pictures of his feminized self)  YES I WILL!

***Mmmm … I want to be your slutty whore.  Will you strap-on train me?  YES I WILL!

***If I send you pictures of me doing dirty things (dildos, eating my own cum, etc.), will you blackmail me?  I will send you my girlfriend’s phone number and email address.  NO I WONT!

***Will you turn me into your jack off boy?  Make me wait, make me beg.  Train my cock to serve you.  Will you watch me on cam?  YES I WILL

***Dear Mistress Angela:  I have a fantasy about being totally addicted to a woman who enjoys controlling me and using me.  It is very important that she enjoy her power and can make me do anything.  May I call you?  YES YOU CAN!

And another joke (from a fav sissy boy):

My flight was being served by an obviously gay flight attendant, who seemed to put everyone in a good mood as he served us food and drinks.  As the plane prepared to descend, he came swishing down the aisle and told us that "Captain Marvey has asked me to announce that he’ll be landing the big scary plane shortly, so lovely people, if you could just put your trays up, that would be super."

On his trip back up the aisle, he noticed this well-dressed and rather Arabic looking woman hadn’t moved a muscle.

"Perhaps you didn’t hear me over those big brute engines but I asked you to raise your trazy-poo, so the main man can pitty-pat us on the ground."

The woman calmly turned her head and said, "In my country, I am called a Princess and I take orders from no one."

To which (I swear) the flight attendant replied, without missing a beat, "Well, sweet-cheeks, in my country I’m called a Queen, so I outrank you.  Tray-up, Bitch."

PQS sends me poetry:

Words That Make My Stomach Plummet

by Mira McEwan

Committee Meeting.       Burden of Proof.

                  The Simple Truth.      Trying To Be Nice.

Honestly.   I Could Have Died.        I Almost Cried.

              It’s Only a Cold Sore.

   It’s My Night.     Trust Me.    Dead Serious.

I Have Everything All Under Control.

                I’m Famous For My Honesty.

       I’m Simply Beside Myself.      We’re On The Same Page.

                Let’s Not Reinvent The Wheel.

For The Time Being.   There Is That.

                      I’m Not Just Saying That.

   I Just Couldn’t Help Myself.             I Mean It.

HDB sends me conservative manifestos while PQS sends me liberal manifestos.  On the other hand, Puzzler and backroads send me a little bit of everything when it comes to politics and the world in general.

And then there are those of you who never write or comment here.  But I know you’re there and I know you’re reading me … because you tell me when we talk.  And that’s enough.

xo, Angela

The Cutest Fetish Panties Ever

Saturday, July 11th, 2009

Chanteuse Ruched Silk Pinup Shorts

via Dollhouse Bettie

Behind the Pretty Curtain

Thursday, July 2nd, 2009

Professionally speaking, things are going well.  Through the month of June, I pretty much was just working weekends (VERY BUSY WEEKENDS — which I will be blogging about in the next few days).  My absence Mondays through Thursdays was not due to my Diva complex, which I admit to having –at least sometimes — but due to the fact that I’ve been rather ill.  Of course, the show must go on.  And so — at least on weekends — it did, with nary a caller even suspecting I wasn’t just not quite up to par.  Truthfully, I needed the weekdays for R&R.  

The nature of my illness?  I just couldn’t hold down food.  When you forget you’ve eaten watermelon and barf up red stuff … it gets kinda scary.  I lost twelve pounds and now have to work at putting that back on, so I guess it’s pizza and milkshakes for me, and maybe my world-famous tuna noodle casserole.  Tra la la. 

Because I wouldn’t go to see a doctor — I tend to self-medicate and self-diagnose — I was kinda-sorta playing Sherlock Homeopathologist.   I know, I know!  Don’t start preaching.  Anyway, just like any gumshoe worth her salt, I  finally nailed the culprit , which ended up being one of the many herbs, supplements and vitamins I take on a daily basis.  Again, please don’t preach.  I do my research and know my stuff.  Let’s just say that I won’t be ordering that particular supplement from that company again.  

This entire episode got me to thinking about how Phone Sex Operators are, by the very nature of the Phone Sex Business, pretty much one-dimensional in the minds of our callers.  And, of course, the same works in reverse:  we can make the cursory mistake of sizing up our callers just by their kinky fantasy.  On both ends of the phone, we are so much more than that.  All-in-all, it’s rather lazy of us, isn’t it?  In my own defense, I do make a concerted effort to ABSOLUTELY not do that, but I’m not Mary Poppins and I sometimes fail.   Particularly if the caller is a one hit wonder — coming (pun) and going in the blink of an eye, never to be heard from again.  But, heh!  I’m trying here.  I really am.

So — in that vein — if you show me yours, I’ll show you mine.  In other words, here’s some things you just might not know — and may or may not like — about your FemDom PhoneSex Goddess:

I’m extremely impatient.  I want what I want and I want it now.  And, yes, I’ve been known to throw a temper tantrum when my desires have been frustrated.  It’s not so very pretty when I’m   raging against the mediocrity of bureaucracy in all its ineptness, sluggishness and redundancy.

It follows that I expect attention.  Particularly when YOU are taking MY money.  Which means if  I am you’re customer, you better at least act like you care.  Because I won’t hesitate to spend my money elsewhere.  The upside of this is that if you do your job well — I will make it worth your while, tipping generously and recommending your service to others.

FASHIONABLY LATE could be my middle name, because I’m never on time for anything And while you might argue that the term should be RUDELY LATE, it does suit my general temperament .  I’m single, after all; and that does tend to make a girl  a bit self-centered.  And  while I hate waiting for other people; I’d have no problem making them wait for me.  This doesn’t work with my doctor or dentist.  When I arrive late, they just push other appointments ahead of me and I am duly punished.  Also I like to look top-notch fresh and pretty when attending functions, so that I put off dressing, hair and makeup until the last minute.   And I am working on this though, because I do realize it’s very unfair to others.

When it comes to AFFAIRS OF THE HEART, I take the "affairs" part far more seriously than I probably should, preferring flings to relationships.  I don’t do well in long term relationships. It’s rather confusing even to me, as I really do believe in love and marriage and all that stuff.  Still, no matter how promising something starts out, I find myself getting bored rather quickly.  And then I’m wiggling my way back to singlehood  as fast as I can.  But there is JewBoy, who I am at least keeping around at arm’s length.  So maybe there’s still hope for me?

What’s more:

I read in bed.  Every single night.  No exceptions.

I’m a reality show junkie.  TOP CHEF, PROJECT RUNWAY and HELL’S KITCHEN to name a few.

Most of the time, I leave a window open (and sometimes the doors to my balcony) when running my AC or furnace. 

I love pink.  All things pink.  My Ipod, cellphone, GPS and even my license plates are all pink.  You should see my pink patent leather fuck me pumps.

I own way too many pairs of shoes … and am still buying.  I WON’T BE STOPPED.

I have a fairly severe case of acrophobia.  So I don’t snow ski and it takes everything I have to go down an escalator.

I give away too much money. 

I don’t smoke pot, because it makes me want to clean house.  But I think it should be legal.

I like codeine and take it every chance I get.  Lucky for me, I don’t get many chances.

When it comes to liquor, I can barely tolerate more than two drinks without getting sick.  But I do have my  rare moments.  Once or twice a year I get tipsy.

I don’t like sitting still.  I have a Type A personality and have to be doing something. 

I’m a terrible Bingo player:  I’d rather  people-watch and end up missing numbers, which drives whoever dragged me there crazy.  And I  am always angry with the person who calls BINGO.  I want to jump over the tables and bitch slap her.

My favorite card games are pinochle and spades.

My favorite board games are scrabble and boggle.

I DO NOT walk around in stockings and heels every day.   In fact, I actually prefer sneakers.

So there!  You got yourself a peek behind the Phone Sex Curtain.  As I’ve maintained all along, Phone Sex Divas really are just the girls next door.  And now you know that we can be  just silly and bitchy and demanding as your wives and girlfriends.  I guess the lesson in all this is to BE NICE TO YOUR HONEY.  She could be me!

xo, Angela 

… oh!  I wrote a new poem.  And yes I was pissed off.