Although today’s entry does not refer to kinky, weird sex–it sure looks that way, doesn’t it? So a few words before I move onto what this is really about:

Whether or not it’s your particular cup of T (as in Taboo), some men (perhaps women–they’re not my client demographic so I wouldn’t know), incorporate a surprising variety of animals into their sexual fantasies. It’s not about the beast, mind you. It’s about the dirtiness of it all.

So that in fantasy…they can push themselves beyond the edge of filthiness and straight into deviant perversion, having an exquisitely intense orgasm. In real life…the same idea is usually beyond repugnant to them. Thank goodness. More often than not, they will be the first to report an instance of animal neglect, cruelty or abuse.

While some fantasies may be outside of my comfort zone, I do respect and support a person’s right to fantasize about any thing they damn well please. If they are smart enough to keep fantasy separate from reality–and most are–then, by all means, have at it.

So now you know. Probably more than you wanted to know. Let’s move on.

***

What I really wanted to bring up: Planet Earth (And, yes, that is a link so be sure to click it.) If you haven’t caught up with this series yet, you really are missing out. Personally speaking, I am seriously hooked. Airing on The Discovery Channel and narrated by Sigourney Weaver, this eleven part, environmentally reverent documentary is living up to the preliminary buzz, proving to really be as mesmerizing as it is educational.

Due to advancements in technology (including satellite photography and high definition production) and the producers’ commitment to quality (“more than five years in the making”) viewers are privy to natural wonders rarely or never before seen. Have you ever seen a snow leopard stalking his prey through the dangerous crags and steep slopes of the Himalayas? Did you know that a cross between a donkey and a zebra is correctly referred to as either a zonkey or a zebrass?

There is so much to see and learn from watching this series that I cannot possibly do it justice within the scope of this blog. From an underwater glimpse of swimming elephants to a peek at male birds of paradise strutting their stuff to attract a female (some things never change, eh?), everything is vividly spectacular, beautiful and overwhelming.

If you can’t catch the series or even if you can–new episodes air Sunday nights with repeats during the week–you can order the DVD set which includes a bonus installment, The Future.

Prepare to be amazed. And moved to save our beloved and threatened planet…before it is too late.

xo, Angela

….is what we are doing today.

***

What I’ve been thinking in the aftermath of the Election Day Massacre, the booting of Rummy and Haggard’s outing is that, although I’ve been thinking bunches, so has everybody else and they’ve been blogging like crazy about it. So I will refrain from opining here about all of that.

Except to say the sleaziness of it all is quite disgusting (what Molly Ivans calls “a race to the bottom“), and it’s about time both parties got over themselves to –instead of having to win at all costs– meet somewhere in the middle. Middle is good, don’t ya know? I kinda-sorta think it is what the original plan was, don’t you?

***

“Meeting in the Middle” is something I’ve been thinking about a lot recently in regards to Adult bloggers, webmasters and webmistresses, a group which would include myself. In case you don’t know what’s going on, what started out as a sincere attempt to protect children who might be victims of sexual exploitation/abuse has been twisted into an all out “War on Pornography.” And it’s not pretty.

But the basic premise, that children need protection, is a good thing. I am just wishing that the Anti-Porno Warriors and Adult Providers would each stop trying to win and would rather sit down and negotiate some sort of middle ground. That’s all. Is it asking too much?

***

Coming soon: Vanilla Savant will be joining my Savant collection.

***

Have you been keeping up with Mistress V? Besides being gorgeous, dominant and sexy, Mistress V is right-on, take-no-prisoners smart. Reading her blog is always an adventure. As when recently she so astutely commented on a certain not-so-angelical Evangelist. And then there is her “sweevilicious” take on Carmamel Apple Wraps. No wonder she has so many daily readers. Simply superior in every way.

***

I got to discussing Christopher Walken with a caller and he agreed with me that Mr. Walken is frickin’ awesome (and he is: don’t argue with me/us). Mentioned was the New York Times article (which neither of us can find now) noting that even though most of Walken’s films are less than stellar, he is beloved by most of the movie-going public.

And, of course, there is Mr. Walken’s turn as video star for Fat Boy Slim’s Weapon of Choice, which won six MTV Awards and “best video of all time.” And who can not love the his ongoing SNL stint as The Continental?

Anyway, said caller has changed his NF member name to The Continental, which just tickles me to no end.

Champagn-ia, anyone?

xo, Angela

Today we finish up Richard’s piece which he’s so generously shared with Zen Fetish.

If you haven’t done so already, be sure to read Part I and Part II before continuing. It’s been interesting reading commentary/reaction to the first two parts, which seems to reflect a bit of confusion regarding Richard’s purpose in writing this bit of “specualtive D/s Fiction.”

But it really isn’t that complicated. As Richard explains (click link to read more): “I wrote it many years ago to give dominant women that I met online a picture of my perception of Femdom relationships.” Anyway, let’s see how this “Imaginary Femdom Encounter” turns out:

Fantasy Mistress: Part III

As I went up the walkway I wondered how she’d test me today. And what the tests proved. And when they’d end. We actually exchanged a fair amount of email before she’d agreed to see me. We shared complimentary appetites: she like to do to men what I wanted done to me (or at least I thought: since I’d never done any of it I didn’t really know).

The door opened for the third time.

“Go to the back yard and wait for me.”

As I did so I wondered if she was going to have me mow or lawn. The fear of something like that dampened my enthusiasm but I couldn’t bring myself to stop now.

She walked out. Dressed in a pullover top, cut-off jeans, and cheap rubber sandals, “flip flops” my mother used to call them. She’d always been dressed casually before but I’d been too hyped up to really notice the actual clothes.

She went over to a pick-nick table made of greenish wood.

“Sit here. Put your right hand’s palm down on the table.”

As I complied I noticed a wooden ruler in her hand.

“You are to keep your hand flat. I’m going to give you ten strokes. If that is too much for you leave and don’t come back.”

I barely had time to steel myself before the first slap hit. But it wasn’t that bad. At first. By the fifth stroke it really stung. My fingers felt like I might not be doing much with them tomorrow but it was almost over. I thought. An eleventh stroke hit me. A twelfth. With the thirteenth she turned the ruler so the edge cut into my fingers.

I yanked my hand away.

When I realized what I’d done I wanted to cry. I’d failed and would have to leave. But when I looked at her she looked pretty pleased.

“Don’t worry, you weren’t supposed to be able to take the last one. Once you got past the first ten you’d passed the test. The others were to teach you that no matter what I say I’m going to do I can still do whatever I want.”

“You have one last test. Come with me.” Shortly we were back in the room whose corner I’d knelt in. This time there was a big wicker plantation style chain in the center. She sat in it.

“Come here, may kneel in front of me. Remember you still aren’t to speak.”

So excited I was trembling I did.

“You have no idea how many men want to be where you are now. But they don’t really want it badly enough. They don’t really want to serve.

“The first day you proved you were willing to work for you place in my service. Yesterday you showed enough determination to withstand boredom which was a much harder test. Today you had your first taste of pain. I like hurting men. If you hadn’t been able to take it you wouldn’t be suitable for me. This is your last test.

“You won’t think it hard when I tell you but it will take all of your willingness work work and to keep on even if you get bored or tired.

“I am very, very slow to orgasm. Your last test is to satisfy me with your tongue. You probably think this is a big treat.” She was right about that.

“But it will take longer than you think. If you manage it we’ll do all the things we wrote to each other about. Otherwise, you won’t have made the grade.”

Standing up she pulled off her top and dropped her shorts. She sat back down. Gesturing at her cunt she said “Get to work, slave.”

She was right. It was long. It was wonderful at first. Then it took all my determination to keep going. At the end it was wonderful again. And then I was hers.

***

What this story says to me more than anything is that Richard is most definitely not a wannabe sub. He is the REAL DEAL. And it also tells me that he is truly deserving of the title, Submissive Savant.

In the very near future I will be featuring another “fantasy” penned by Richard. A bit different than this one. Quite intriguing and of interest to more than a few of my callers and readers.

xo, Angela

A sure sign that a caller proclaiming to be “submissive” is really just a wannabe is when he tries to “top from the bottom.” If you’re not familiar with this phrase, Wikipedia says:

Topping from the bottom is a BDSM term, meaning a person who wants to be dominated but simultaneously direct the top to do it according to their wishes.

This happens a lot. Particularly with Long Distance Domination. Of which I happen to do quite a bit. I like it. In fact, I like it a lot. At least most of the time. But there are those times when I just want to strangle the caller because he is really just a wannabe.

The wannabes haven’t had any, or at least very little real life experience. Which means that they’ve most likely spent years dreaming up the ideal scenario. Richard in commenting on a Sex Kitten discussion calls this the “Fantasy Ferris Wheel.” An apt term; I think I’ll keep it. Because look what else Wikipedia has to say:

Topping from the bottom is usually considered poor practice [emphasis mine] amongst lifestyle BDSM devotees, although fairly common amongst the “BDSM curious” or newcomers who have had submissive sexual fantasies for some time but lacked real experience of a sexual dominant.

On certain days –and this was one of them– I do believe that I have had it up to my pretty brown eyes with wannabes. Because when a guy calls with all these preconceived ideas of what is the “perfect D/s and/or BDSM experience, he is usually going to try my patience. Because his “tunnel vision” is firmly in place and is strung so tight around his balls that there’s no communication. He is a wannabe-sub-robot.

Now, as an Erotic Conversationalist, I am a good listener. I know this, because my callers keep calling back. I think it’s safe to assume that this translates into “Angela gives good phone.” I really want the guy on the other end of the phone to have a superior experience. And not just him, but me too. Because I like what I do–when I am permitted the opportunity to do it well.

But if my caller is set on wannabe-sub-robot autopilot (monotone: Mistress must make me say that I am her kinky-boy ass kisser every other sentence. Mistress must wear red stilletos. Mistress must smoke marlboro lights. Mistress must stick her right heel –not her left one– up my ass.), I am just not going to get anywhere with him. This is the Distance Domination form of topping from the bottom.

And he is going to be disappointed. And you know what? I’m glad the little jerky-boy is. It’s what he deserves for waisting both his and my time. Both of us have better things to do.

Otherwise, things are fine. How about you?

xo, Angela

I kinda-sorta market myself as a Fetish Goddess/Fem Domme Fatale or something of the sort. Yet — as you would see if you could read my email and/or listen in on some of my calls — some find me and my “thing” rather confusing. (What exactly is this “literate smut” thing all about? What do you mean by “erotic torture?” Just what do you consider sexual misadventure?)

But my vision, from this side of the telphone –who I am, what I do, how I do it– seems quite clear, even decidely translucent. It is the divine craft of creation which underlies each and every fantasy I weave. A supervisor once explained to the company for which we both worked that, “When Angela does a call, by the time she is done the caller is going to know what the carpet smells like.”

Which is indeed what I am always striving for. I mean, why even make the effort otherwise? To my way of thinking, anything else would be the equivalent of clock-watching in an everyday nine-to-five job. See what I mean? I just don’t do mediocre. I don’t want it from the people I spend my money with, so why would I try to pass it off on my callers?

Thus it follows (and I’ve been told–many, many times) that my fantasies (of total sublimation, tease and denial, sissification, naughty secretary, cold-hearted governess, forced cock-sucking, cuckolding, etc.) are as close to “the real deal” as it gets.

And, in fact, I do periodically run across the caller who cannot separate the fantasy from the reality, the story teller from business woman/girl next door. It can be as hard on me as it is on them.

Because — while they are hopelessly yearning in their real-time/everyday lives to be banished forever to a cage of my making or lick my ass in the middle of Times Square or lose their masculinity to the sure and evil slice of my antique scimitar — I do sincerely care about the people I do business with. I want them to have fun, be taken on the roller coaster ride of their lives. I want them live out their dirtiest, filthiest fantasies to the nth degree.

BUT, I want them to walk away from the call feeling good about themselves. How I try to explain it clients is this way: You should feel dirty when you are doing a phonesex call. That is the point of it. But, if you walk away from that call still feeling dirty, then something is wrong. This is not healthy phone sex. Not healthy fantasy. Another way I try to get this is across is (at least most of the time): DON’T TRY THIS AT HOME.

So fantasy and reality, with all the grey areas in-between and around all the prickly edges, are always finely delineated matters. And I am always squinting my eyes, looking for that ever-illusive and always-changing doodle that keeps the boundaries clear.

Because it’s my job to do that. Particularly when the caller can’t.

***

And…

• Look what I’ve been up to. (This is just a hub site to which I can redirect the email from my other sites.)
• I have an ad at Fleshbot this week (10/18 thru 10/24), thanks to a very special person (soon to be added to my Savant Collection).
• I’ve become a semi-official editor at Tit-Elation.
• I’ve been promoted to moderator at Sex Kitten.