We will open the book. Its pages are blank.
We are going to put words on them ourselves.
The book is called Opportunity and its first chapter is New Year’s Day.

~ Edith Lovejoy Pierce

Maybe it points to a developing maturity, but this is the first year I really “got” how important celebrating the end of one year and the beginning of another really is.  It’s never been about the partying for me (my first two years as a legal adult taught me the best place to be is home on New Year’s Eve), but I just never felt the deep connection to the past or awe for the future suddenly upon my doorstep.

Things are changing in my life, and Christmas this year — usually my favorite holiday — was somewhat bittersweet.  I looked around at the people I love, this family who with all their foibles and eccentricities have always been the comfort and joy of my holidays, and knew that there is a very real possibility some or even all of them might not be with me next year.

My big brother is taking early retirement to work on an internet business with his wife and plans (when he can sell his loft for a reasonable price) to move across the country.  My mother, who’s been in a wheelchair these past few years after suffering a stroke, seems to be rapidly going downhill.  The familiar patterns of my life could be drastically rearranged come 2013.

Or the Mayans could be right and as of 12/21/2012 we could all be fucked, and not even make it to 2013.  I actually do think — considering the worldwide natural disasters, social discontent and economic upheaval of recent years — the potentiality is there and maybe even is necessary as a mechanism for cleansing the slate in preparation for spiritual and social progression.

So, yeah, I’ve been contemplating, introspecting, considering, imagining and evaluating quite a bit this past week.  I don’t have answers, nor do I want answers.   I just want to be present and accountable.  I want to be always grateful.  To be grateful and resolutely confident that the world’s story unfolds as it should.  As does the adventure of my life and the adventure of the lives of those I love.

……………………………………………………..

So, was that heavy enough for you?  Well, I meant every word.

BUT …

Do not think for a moment I’ve abandoned my title, Kinkstress Princess of the Internet*, nor the inherent responsibilities of holding said title.  I did get around, I do get around … and, apparently, so do you.  “You” being my Phone Sex Clients, FemDomme Bitch Boys, Chronic Masturbators, Cross-Dressing Trollops et al.  Because I did run a New Year’s Eve Discount and you showed up in droves.

If you’re not a client, you are not on my NiteFlirt email list and did not receive the special notice.  That was not my intent, as I planned on announcing it here at Zen so that everybody who wanted to could take advantage of my most-fab KISS KISS BANG BANG discount.  Unfortunately, there were technical issues with my hosting company yesterday and — with the calls coming so fast and hard (not to mention the guys *wink*) I couldn’t out-wait the issues to get a post put up.  So here’s kinda-sorta what you would have seen:

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Ring in the New Year with Angela: $1.00 OFF per minute!

As many of you know, I love spending a cozy New Year’s Eve at home.  As is my tradition, I’m dressing up in my red stockings & heels, popping a bottle (or maybe even two bottles) of champagne and settling in front of my fireplace for a night of indulgence.

I’d love to hear from you. Call to talk dirty, or tell me the New Year resolutions you will be breaking next week, or admit how drunk you are, or whisper your perfect kinky fantasy, or drink a New Year’s toast with me, or even just to shoot the breeze.  If we’ve not spoken before, or if we haven’t spoken for a while … don’t be shy.  While I love being pampered, I do love treating my callers every once in a while, and this is a great night to do it.

You must call this listing to get the discount. 

or call direct:    1-800- 863-5478  ext. 0331122

……………………………………………………………………………………………

But as I said, the boys who did receive the emails did keep me busy, busy, busy.   So busy that I had a line of eight lined up waiting for their turn at 2:30 a.m.  I finally had to call it a night.

But is that fair?  The email went out late, this website wouldn’t cooperate so I could announce it here and then there are the guys who were otherwise engaged and couldn’t have called anyway.

Soooo ….

Here’s the good news:  I am extending the discount throughout tonight and for as much of tomorrow as I can.  At a certain point, I do get tired and the vocal cords do get a little raw and I have to take a break.  But I do promise to be available as much as possible these two days.   So call your Mistress and give her a little sugar.  She just might give you some right back. *wink*

xo

*Term bestowed upon me by a certain gentleman caller.  I kinda-sorta like it and think I’ll keep it.

Yes, me loves & beauties & most-appreciated perverts, I took a little break.  What can I say? How do I defend myself against the surly comments, accusatory emails and self-righteous pouts?  How dare I?  Why would I? Enuff’s ennuf, already!  O Dear Beloved Mistress of mine, with much respect: Get your ass back to this blog — front and center, goddamnit, right where you fucking belong!

Let me be the first to say that there’s absolutley no defense for my abhorrent and rather lengthy neglect of this blog.  On the other hand, there’s also no remorse on my part.   I needed a  break.  I’d go so far as to say this breather, this intermission, this time out, was even very well earned.  Lengthy explanations would be tedious both for you and myself.  Let’s just say that if you know me well … you know why.

So what did I do?  Just where in the hell was I?  Okay, darlings.  Just remember you asked for it.

First of all, I wasn’t really G O N E entirely (at least some of the time) while I wasn’t posting to Zen Fetish.  I was taking calls (which is, after all, my main gig) — even for some seemingly interminable blocks of times here and there, now and again.  You just had to catch me at the right time.  And many of you did.  Just LOOK RIGHT HERE if you simply must have some verifiable, hard evidence.  Although,  by now you should trust enough to know that I only lie to you when I’m talking dirty. *wink*  The point being, silly boy, that if you really wanted to find me, you surely could have.

Anyway ….

I didn’t plan for a FemDom sabbatical.  Wasn’t penciled in on my calendar anywhere.  It just kinda-sorta happened.  And it kinda-sorta felt right.  And — as you surely know by now — I’m pretty much a girl who goes by the seat of her panties,

It all started when Bethany came to visit.  We had a lovely week, lots of girly-sibling time, lots of family time, lots of hugs and laughs and lots of tourist-y adventures.  But a week — when it’s only once or twice a year for sisters — is hardly ever enough dontcha know?  And so, after much pleading and begging and sweet-talking on Bethany’s part, I caved.  I threw doubt and caution into the wind and, before you know it, I was off on a two week adventure — a week in Cincinnati with my sister,  and then another week of traipsing around my home turf.  Bethany accompanied me back home too, so you might say we were a very bad influence on each other.  We were irresponsible adults having the time of our lives.  You should try it sometime because it was FUCKING AWESOME!

I won’t bore you with the details of shopping trips, dinners, spas, etc. etc.  I won’t tell you about the two encounters I had with two very ex-boyfriends who were wishing they weren’t so "ex" and probably thinking, if I’d only behaved better!  I won’t even entertain you with JewBoy’s petulant sputtering and impotent tantrum (when will he ever learn?) upon my return.  How dare I not tell this some-time companion who fancies himself my beau that I was going to be away? Huh? What? Me thinks JewBoy could use a savvy lesson or two from a few of my more obsequious callers in the practice of proper servility and appropriate expectation.

But I will tell you four things I learned while gone:

1. Thomas Wolfe was wrong; you CAN go home again.  You just can’t stay that long.
2.  When you suspect  that the woman effervescently showing off her Thomas Kinkaid collection just might be a few clowns short of a circus?  You’re absolutely correct.
3. Regardless of where you are, Chinese delivery always comes in a brown, paper bag with a menu stapled to it.  I’m serious.  Think about it.
4. A girl can purchase twice as many pairs of shoes when spending her money in close vicinity to an eroded Paleozoic land mass.

So, yeah, I  know.  That three weeks of R & R does not quite account for my protracted spate of none-blogging.   What was it?  Two months?  Maybe more, give or take a few days or a week? *sheepish grin*  But, as I’ve noted above, I WAS around.  I just wasn’t blogging.  So sue me, spank me, tell me I’m a heartless bitch.  But you know you still love me.  Go ahead, admit it. *batting eyelashes*

Truthfully and all kidding aside, I just needed a break.  I needed breathing room.  I needed to unplug and smell the roses. I wanted to read, watch a few documentaries, visit with my mother, connect with some friends.  I wanted and needed some technology-free moments.  I barely tweeted (check it out for yourself) and right now I’m sitting on over 1,500 unopened emails.

Don’t be mad at me, because, honestly, the business of FemDom PhoneSex is a taxing one.  If you are doing it righteously and honestly, it is demanding and draining.  And I’ve been doing it for a while now.  Only FemDom’s bleed, dontcha know?  But the good news, the great news, the wonderful news is that:  what’s good for me will definitely be good for you.

I’m back. I’m plugged in. 

And I’ve missed you.  Really

xo, Angela

Once upon a time, when I was a wee good little Catholic school girl, my mother brought a hooker home for Christmas.  My much older and righteously-proper sister was quite chagrined that the neighbors might see and what would they think?  I, on the other hand, was mesmerized by this most exotic woman in her red high heels, matching crimson lipstick and sparkling ruby-esque chandelier earrings.  I didn’t understand that it was considered "naughty" to have a three-inch slit in your hip-hugging skirt.  Or that this woman provided *gasp* sexual pleasures for cold hard cash in a small town where certainly none of our goodly & faithful men would pay for such things.

And guess what? This harlot, this strumpet, this Jezebel besmirching our Yuletide gathering was one of the kindest people — to this day — that I’ve ever met.  She sat me on her luxurious lap and read to me from the new books Santa had left under the tree.  While the other sister-approved  guests (and family) drank their share of spiked eggnog and pretty much got wasted — isn’t that what Christmas is for? — Miss Tanya helped my mother in the kitchen, cleaned up the continuous mess left by sloppier and sloppier drinkers, gathered the crinkled and discarded gift wrap littering the floor, and eventually was the one to tuck me in to bed because my mother was quite simply exhausted.

I adored Miss Tanya.  I still remember the scent of her perfumed bosom, when she leaned in to kiss me good night, telling me what a sweet little girl I was and brushing the bangs from my forehead.

So today is International Day to End Violence Against Sex Workers

From SWOP-USA: 

This event was created to call attention to hate crimes committed against sex workers all over the globe. Originally thought of by Dr. Annie Sprinkle and started by the Sex Workers Outreach Project USA as a memorial and vigil for the victims of the Green River Killer in Seattle Washington. International Day to End Violence Against Sex Workers has empowered workers from over cities around the world to come together and organize against discrimination and remember victims of violence. During the week of December 17th, sex worker rights organizations will be staging actions and vigils to raise awareness about violence that is commonly committed against sex workers. The assault, battery, rape and murder of sex workers must end. Existing laws prevent sex workers from reporting violence. The stigma and discrimination that is perpetuated by the prohibitionist laws has made violence against us acceptable. Please join with sex workers around the world and stand against criminalization and violence committed against prostitutes.

So why would I care?  I mean, after all, this doesn’t really effect me now, does it?  While I might be called a "sex worker," I certainly have it pretty easy, sitting here on my sweet little tush just whispering dirty little nothings into my phone … at more than arm’s length away from anyone who’d do me harm.

I care because every woman should care.  And let’s get this straight:  I am every woman.  Talking Dirty is just a part of the whole me.  I am a daughter, a sister, a friend.  The same girl who straps you to a chair for a hot nasty tease or instructs you to worship her ass and bark like a dog or presents you naked to a group of her friends IN THE JOYOUS PURSUIT OF YOUR RIGHT TO ENJOY A KINKY FANTASY could be the same girl sitting beside you at a church, could be the same girl who gave your wife a ride when her car broke down, could be the same girl who sat with you in the ICU when your father was dying, could be the same girl taking her wheelchair-bound mother shopping at the mall, could be the same girl who …

And I care because, once upon a time, my mother did bring a hooker home for Christmas dinner.  She brought home Miss Tanya.  Miss Tanya, who — when I was in high school — was found dead in a car which had been set on fire, her body charred and also severely bruised, a wrist broken. 

While there was (what I believe to be) a half-hearted attempt at an investigation, nobody was EVER arrested and charged.   The whore deserved better.  Beautiful Miss Tanya deserved so much better.  Every woman deserves better.

The bad guy got away!  No more Mr. Bad Guys, please?

xo, Angela

______________________________________

XXBN, Progressive Talk Radio Tonight (Dec. 17, 09)

Listen and Participate:  HERE

In honor of International Day to end Violence against Sex Workers Jill and Ren discuss progress and set backs facing Sex Workers Rights Movements all over the world. From laws to social attitudes, allies to enemies, the personal to the political, a lot of change has happened in the last 365 days, so please join us and feel free to call in regarding this topic.

America, you’re a fat, sweaty bastard. For your sake, and for all of our sakes really, you need to embrace pornography.

You’re The Great Satan. You’re a canker sore in the mouths of countless people around the world. For every good thing you do, there are a dozen bad decisions you make, another hairy, beady-eyed war criminal painting his ugly visage on the yellow and orange slums of whatever Third World country you decided to rape this year. There are thoughtful, intelligent, decent people within your borders who embody the true meaning of the American Spirit…most of whom are crudely silenced by their overweight, dimwitted American counterparts.

You’re secretive. You love to lie. When you make a mistake, it takes you years to admit it. Basically, you’re the international equivalent of a terrible, cheating girlfriend. Except when the girlfriend makes mistakes, it results in a drunken argument at 3 am. When you, the USA, makes a mistake, it results in smart bombs blowing the turbans off numerous brown-skinned peoples.

People in the Third World hate you so much that they follow badly dressed psychopaths masquerading as heads of state. They hate you so much that they’ll blame you for anything; if the people of Venezuela are stricken with a nationwide case of hemorrhoids, Venezuelans will no doubt blame their predicament on CIA administered poison toilet paper. My friend, they hate you so much they’re willing to strap pretty much anything flammable to their chests and run screaming into your embassies. Hell man, some crazy bastards hated you so much they even crashed fuckin airplanes into buildings. And it wasn’t even an accident.

Now now, don’t get defensive. Millions of your citizens would jump to your defense, scream that America is an innocent and god-fearing nation, then proceed to slit our throats and burn Liberating Porn to the ground for uttering such unspeakable insults about their country, all in defense of the freedom of speech. You need to stop listening to your yes-men: the piss poor hicks, the capitalists raping the planet, the assbackward, football coach generals, the captains of the booming lapel flag industry. These people are sucking on your huge, glistening, red, white, and blue nipples. You need to listen to the citizens who love you, but don’t hesitate to call you out on your mistakes. These are the dissenters, the true and honest patriots of all stripes, the intellectuals, the generous middle class, the free thinking working class, poor, and disenfranchised. Or, as your most ardent supporters refer to them, ‘terrorists’.

There’s a reason why people hate you. Though you present yourself as a benevolent force for good, more often than not you act like a sniveling corporate douchebag. You’re in it for the money. You broker backdoor deals with thugs and gangsters from countries with unpronounceable names. And you cover it up. You’re a no good stinking liar. You sweep all your dirt under the couch, then kill the maid.

Sure, we could advocate nationwide revolution. Americans certainly have the weaponry to do this; compared to the average citizens of Camden, New Jersey, the resistance in Iraq looks like a squad of poor kids playing with Soviet Nerf guns. Having a handgun in Philadelphia is laughable; even the most peaceful, law abiding civilians are armed to the teeth with automatic weapons. Let’s not forget the bat-shit insane white people in the Midwest, more than a few of whom belong to paramilitary groups who are right now crawling through shrubbery, acting out their favorite scenes from Red Dawn.

No, instigating armed revolution is not our goal. Instead we suggest that you, America, embrace pornography. Millions of your citizens are avid fans, and very few of them harbor sexual perversions. Well perhaps they do, but these are mostly harmless perversions, legal everywhere in the country except in Texas (where half of the criminal population is on death row while the other half is elected for office).

Sexually uninhibited people are among the healthiest in America. They live longer, happier lives. Mental health-wise, they pop less Prozac. They raise better children. Most people who live happy, sexual lives are liberal in thought and action, open-minded, and tolerant of others. Rarely do they harm anyone, as it’s almost impossible to fly into a murderous rage when you’re getting laid on a regular basis.

Compare these liberated people to the flag waving denizens, the ugly, pimple-faced, angry children of America. Their evangelist says they can’t fuck for fun, so their bedrooms are dull places of god-fearing, supposed do-goodery. It’s not just the obvious nut jobs, either. We live in a democracy, and the angry, non-sex-having people vote for other angry, non-sex-having people. Angry, no-sex having people have done their best to ensure that you, America, come across as the same. But angry, no-sex having countries tend to bomb the piss out of a lot of people.

Yes, even with our new President, we at Liberating Porn fear for you, America. You need to put down the anti-abortion sign with that dead baby picture, smoke a doob and take it easy. Because even with B-rock in the Oval Office, you’re still filled with anger, still the jock doofus who shows off the Lexus his rich daddy bought him. For Christ’s sake, look at you. You’re at those stupid evangelical churches all the time then you finger-bang old men in truck stops. You’re a walking contradiction, a Great Satan that decorates brutal, elitist capitalism with Wal-Mart party balloons and Big Macs while your citizens die fat and poor. Please stop defending your actions with failed ideology. You misinterpret Adam Smith, demonize intellectuals, and have yet to hold a press release to inform the masses that Ayn Rand was a giant cunt.

Embracing porn may not fix all of your problems, but it will help you be honest. Naked people cannot hide much. It’s hard to keep a lobbyist in your pocket if you’re not wearing pants. Let us see your warts, so that we can have a doctor remove them.

So let your cock out, America. Put on a skin flick and crank one out. Hell, you can call Canada over to the house. She’s a sweet chick. We hear that she’s down for just about anything, given that she can get all types of crazy drugs from her free clinics. (Let your beard grow in; Miss Canada loves guys who look like lumberjacks or hockey players.) Get your nut off, experience some free love, then see how you feel in the morning.

With love,

Mitch and Chip — LIBERATING PORN

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I don’t know Mitch and Chip, but I sure as hell like what they’ve got to say.  Mostly, it’s what I’ve been saying all along, but they say it more  — um — in-your-face poetically than I ever could. 

In fact, it turns me on so much that I’m masturbating to this essay.

… every.  fucking.  word.  of it.

I could say a lot more.  Oh my darlings, soooo much more.  But I want you to savor THEIR WORDS, not mine.  Maybe later.