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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  ...


A boy can dream …

Dear Angela

I awake caged and strapped to the bed where you left me, the silken ties still holding my wrists above my head and pulling my ankles toward the bedposts.  My cock is still swollen, locked in the metal cage.  The clothespins are laying against me, but no longer pinching my nipples.

I see your pajamas on floor outside the bathroom, hear the sounds of your bathing.

And I remember last night …

You had guided me gently into the bed. Laughing and giggling when you locked my cock up, telling me it was yours, that always and forever it would be yours.  You kissed my lips, using your fingers on my suddenly sensitive chest.  Because I couldn’t help but reciprocate, touching every part of your lithe body my fingertips could reach, you decided to tie me up.  I begged; I promised to be good, to settle down, to be obedient.  But, as always, my desire gave you the upper hand and I submitted.

Once I was bound, your teasing became more insistent.  Each pass of your lips or hands was a little more firm, a little more demanding, a little more exciting, soon with brief hints of discomfort and shadows of pain.  I was writhing.  My hips were bucking, arms and legs pulling, and ‘your’ cock was throbbing in your cage.

You persisted. Fingernails pushing through the bars, stroking, stabbing, and scratching at the shaft. Lips sucking on nipples. Legs stroking mine. Your erect nipples pushing against my body and then my lips. Finally your hands slapping my face, your thighs squeezing my chest, your mouth hovering over mine.

At last you slid your pussy slowly up my torso. I could feel the cool trail as your hot juices were exposed to the air and dried on my chest. Agonizingly frustrating patience as you approached my mouth. Suddenly my mouth, covered with your saliva had a purpose. You held my skull in your hands, you squeezed my ears with your thighs and drove your wet slit against my wet and hungry mouth.

On and on and on you teased, you stroked, you tortured.

And then you left me.  Fevered and left wanting, somehow I’d fallen asleep.

And now …

It is morning and you are coming out of the bathroom. The scents of my lust are replaced with those of soaps and powders. Your naked body elicits an involuntary groan from my mouth as your cock began to throb in its cage as if begging for attention. You gently unlocked the cage and carefully take my trembling and twitching shaft into your mouth. I feel your lips engulf me, your tongue wetly stroking me. Your delicate fingers probed at my ball-sack. I  feel a night worth of passion begin to flow.  And so can you.

With a “pop” you break contact.

Even as  my sob of frustration fills the room, you reach for my head and look directly into my eyes.  “Not yet,” you say.

You reached over me, keeping your breasts out of tongues hungry reach and untied one wrist.

“Go to work.  See you tonight.” And you walked out.


Puppet Prince

2 Responses to “A boy can dream …”

  1. Joel311 Says:

    Your changes are brilliant.
    Adding / taking away , clarifying, and tightening it up in general.

    Nicely modified, a deft hand at work.

    And now: it is a dream worth the dreaming.

  2. science nerd Says:

    No one can craft frustration as an erotic art form better than Angela. I could smell the bath powder.

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