You don’t really think she is looking for candy, do you?
(Thanks Mr. W. for the pic.)

xo, Angela

World-wide $$$: 57.0 billion

U. S. $$$: $12.0 billion

US Adult videos: $20 billion

Escort services: $11 billion

Magazines: $7.5 billion

Sex clubs: $5 billion

Phone sex: $4.5 billion

Cable/Pay per view: $2.5 billion

Internet: $2.5 billion

CD-Rom: $1.5 billion

Novelties: $1.0 billion

Other: $1.5 billion

Porn revenue is larger than all combined revenues of all professional football, baseball and basketball franchises.

US porn revenue exceeds the combined revenues of ABC, CBS, and NBC (6.2 billion).

Child pornography generates $3 billion annually.

~~~

So there you have it. While different stats will vary (depends on who’s commissioned them and for what monetary purpose, don’t ya know?), I think there isn’t such a huge schism that we need to argue the accuracy. Do you? Nah, I didn’t think so. Leave that silliness to the Wendy Whiners and Nancy Naysayers.

I’m just making a point to the sexual snobgoblins out there: Someone is obviously paying money for this stuff. Lotsa money. And at a twelve billion dollar (as I said, give or take a few billion–depending on who’s counting) price tag, you can bet at least more than a few of the spenders are not the misfit miscreants some would like to believe. I’d even gander that more than a few have shared your pew, dining table, golf foursome or even your bed.

Pornography is big business. Someone (somemany?) out there realize(s) that “if you build it they will cum,” and is/are racking in the cash. Like most girly-girls and even a lot of my callers (the advantage of attracting smart boys with perverse thoughts), I’ve never been big on porn.

I actually wrote an article about my kinda-sorta non-relationship with pornography for Sex Kitten a while back, Please Pass the Egg Nog: Pornography or Porn-not-graphy. Don’t get me wrong: I will defend anybody’s right to read/write/publish pornography. And, of course, there is always the pornography VS erotica debate which goes on ad nauseam.

My problem is not with the product, the producer or even the consumer. My problem is with the lack of balance some men are able to maintain when it comes to the stuff.   Which will be left for another discussion.

More interesting statistics can be found here.

And thanks, Lyndee, for pointing this out. You always show me interesting things.

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.

Happy Friday the Thirteenth.

1. Financial Goddess worth giving it up for: Exclusively Devon
2. Scarlett Teese: That would be Johansson and Dita Von (yum yum).
3. My newest pairs of heels: Are these sexy or what? and Would you kneel?
4. Laura Baumach: Sensually Wicked Man Love
5. Phone Sex with Miss Swan (very funny)
6. Maria’s online diary: Cuckolding Martin (very hot, sexy, explicit)
7. Cross-Dressing: From the inside out (honestly thoughtful)
8. Barely Legal PhoneSex Sweetheart (prepare to be amazed)
9. So you want to write erotica? (excellent resource, frequently updated)
10. Dominatrix, Heineken style. Actually, pretty much on the money.
11. A Woman of Conviction. Someone to admire, champion and support.
12. A most interesting artist who’s recently caught my attention.
13. OMG! Look what Mistress Sky’s been up to. I adore this woman!

More fun with the Friday the Thirteenth:

• WiKipeDia says
• Test Your Friday the 13th IQ
• Friday the 13th Strip Tease
• Jason Vorhees Redux

And one more thing:

First 5 callers: 1.13 per minute. Oops! Sale all gone. Sorry. (Thanks, guys!)

Angela 

My main gig is phonesex, phone sex fantasy — pure and simple.

Fantasy being the key word, but I’ll get back to that thought in a minute. Hang tough and I promise to make this short and sweet as I have things to do today and am on the move.

Because what I find curious is that….

Some (not all–don’t get jiggly on me) girls who do “FemDom” or “Spoiled Brat” or “Princess” or “Mistress” (don’t fool yourself–same crayon box, different crayons) calls are quite adamant that they don’t do phone sex, insisting that they are much superior to phonesex gals.

Of course these same self-professed dominatrices oft buy into their own mythology (ie. showing up at chat rooms, blogs and message boards to instruct, badger, and chastise the lowly and un-deified minions and/or collecting deadbeat boyfriends who suddenly evolve into houseboys/slaves). Which, come to think of it, is a pretty good reason to best be moving beyond this particular bit of blather. Don’t you think? Can’t really argue with a Demi-Goddess. Now, can we?

Back to the main thought here:

Anyway, the bottom line –no matter how you want to dress it up– is we fulfill the caller’s fantasy–not our’s, but the callers. Got that? In other words, we are the myth of perfection, not the reality. And, no matter which way you slice it, perfection within the realm of a fantasy call is defined by the caller, not the callee. The liaison between the phone sex caller and phone sex provider is a slippery one at best. He is looking –at least momentarily under the vise-like grip of his most lizardly self– for a fantasy come true, the perfect partner in slime. It our job to provide that experience in triple-decker, double-digits deviance of the highest caliber.

Furthermore, to be successful in this business of smoke and mirrors, requires a suspension of disbelief for both the caller and callee. Because we just ain’t getting him “there” unless we jump on the magic carpet with him. Yet, at the same time, we must maintain very clear professional boundaries….both for the caller and for us. The better we are –the more we care about what we do and who we do– the harder this becomes. But it is nonetheless an imperative of great import. Don’t kid yourself…souls lie in the balance here, karma is waiting right around the corner to kick our asses.

Personally, I block obsessive callers (312 at last count–but this number also includes the rude and the stupid), refusing to be a part of their downward spiral. I am diligent in reminding my callers that fantasy and reality are two different animals. That they must not be blinded by my neon-lit manger. That if I turned up the halogens things would look quite different.

I always remind them that in my everyday doings I am probably not much sexier than their wife/girlfriend/significant other….that just like her, I probably would not want to wear fetish leathers or tie them up or take their rectal temperature or kick them in the balls or force them to suck cock.

Because someday I won’t be young and beautiful and clever and full of myself and sharp and brilliant and adorable and adventurous and uncontainable (mythically speaking, of course).

And the telephone will only yield a busy signal.

And if you are wondering where all this came from…it all started here:

Are Sex Services Bad?

Damn you, Gracie!