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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  ...


On My FemDom Good Side

Thursday, December 2nd, 2010

•••Secrets in Lace•••

How does he get there?

How does the phone sex caller end up on my good side when he hasn’t called in quite a  while?   Obviously, no phone means no do re mi for me me me.  Certainly not an optimal business arrangement as far as I’m concerned.  Time is money, no matter the profession, doncha know?  But he did earn his way to and has stayed steadily on my good side since the very beginning of my Phone Sex Career. 

Obviously history and mutual appreciation count for a lot, but how does one reinforce that connection and stay Angela Approved when only sending email?

Well a little bit of self-deprecation (auto-erotic humiliation?) mixed in with at least a pretense of timorousness goes a long way. 

Not to mention an exuberance for all things kinky (see the PS and click the Secrets in Lace link) and a comfortable, gleeful acceptance on one’s own particular bent.    Why is this important?  Because there is NOTHING WORSE than a phone sex caller who is embarrassed about his perversions. 

DO apologize profusely.  Do grovel … in that puppy dog way that makes me want to pet you and not kick you.  In the nuts.

DO be cute and charming.  Do make silly disarming jokes.  Do purposefully and eruditely mention things we’ve discussed so that I know that you truly do care and really are paying attention.  It matters more than you could possible understand.

DO include a "Daily Healing List."  Or something of that sort, along those lines, in that neighborhood, that shows me your efforts are sincere and from the heart.  Emailing and the ability to Copy & Paste have made for some pretty lazy communicators these days.  It’s tedious and time-wasting.  If that’s the best you can do, just don’t.

DO be sooo enamored with your personal sexual obsessions — in this case, curv-a-licious women in outrageously feminine and sexy as all get-out vintage (and vintage-inspired) lingerie — that with neither compunction nor discomfiture you recommend NOTHING LESS THAN a Nobel prize to the website tickling your fetish fancy.

In other words, make certain that I can do nothing less that adore you right back.


From a very good boy …..

Beloved and Darling Miss Angela:

OK, first things first: I am an asshole.  I really really really apologize for sending you a bunch of crap and kind-of nagging emails. I am so very sorry.  I didn’t mean to and just kind of got caught up in the moment, so I hope you will forgive me.

Now for the more important part of the apology:

I am aware that you have a life other than being the best conversationalist on earth. But temporarily I forgot about it.

So I fully understand that there are things in "real life" that you have to deal with, whereas I was being Mr. Computer Guy and Mr. Horny Goat… Thank you for being so patient and polite. I deserved neither. I’m not being a masochist, I’m just having a burst of unpleasant introspection, where I’m seeing myself in the mirror, and I don’t like what I see. And if there is one thing I want to always do is to treat people I like and appreciate with appreciation and respect and politeness.

I know that you experienced some tragedies in life (a brother that had drug problems I believe) and I know that you have a very good relationship with your mom and that you are (if I’m not mistaken) the one that is geographically closest to her. I know you love and care for your mom, and since you never mentioned a dad, I can assume (forgive me for assuming) that you are in some ways her primary caregiver. Having said all of that I can understand how scary and difficult it is to handle any unpleasant fluctuations in the Mom front. I think (again forgive me for assuming) that you guys are not just mom and daughter but also great friends. That makes things even more difficult: it’s not just filial responsibility, it’s also caring for someone you love.

I hope your Mom is OK. Again I apologize for assuming that there were some medical complications, but that’s what it sounded like from your brief email.

Oh dear… now I’m thinking maybe I’m being a total drama queen. Maybe the whole thing was just about your cat Mitzi breaking a 4800 year-old Ming vase at your mom’s villa in Cabo San Lucas. (Darn it! I knew I shouldn’t have watched 3 seasons of "The Hills". All that drama messed up my brain chemistry forever, not to mention causing me to lose 40 IQ points. And all because of Heidi and Spencer, the vile douchebags.)

Anyhow, I hope all is well, or as well as it can be. I have gone through some tough shit in the last year (Last year? How about the last decade?) so I can tell you that it is important to take care of yourself. Caring for yourself is an act of daily healing.

Daily Healing List:

Eat well. Veggies, fruits, no meat in the evening, olive oil, long grain rice, whole grain breads, etc.
– Don’t smoke. (ABSOLUTELY NO DRUGS!!!)
– Drink wine with food. A bottle a week.
– Have a daily non-exhausting workout regimen. Swim if you can, ride a bicycle if you enjoy it.
– Read good books.
– Drink 2 liters of good liquids a day. That’s 8 cups. "Good" means no Cola, Pepsi, etc. Yes, you will pee a lot, but so what?
– Don’t eat trashy junk food. (Tostitos, Oreos, Doritos, potato chips, etc)
– Sleep well.
– Air out your house every day.
– Make sure your bedroom is clean and organized.
– Floss every day. (The more you floss the less it will hurt.)
– Pamper yourself. Buy an electric toothbrush, drink flavored teas, own a soft bathrobe, eat spinach salad even if it’s more expensive than lettuce, buy a small wooden stool for when you stretch your feet, own a piece of satin lingerie, experiment with different fun lipsticks, read Marcel Proust in bed in satin lingerie, get a professional manicure once a month.
– Have a plant, even if it’s a cactus.
– Read about religion. Christianity, Judaism, Buddhism, whatever. Exclude Islam which is a gang, Mormonism which is a corporation and AlGoreanism which is a scam. Read about history – the French Revolution, the Ming Dynasty, the Greeks, the Persians, etc etc. Both provide calm and perspective.
– Hang paintings and pictures on the walls.
– If you have the space, have a nicely upholstered old-school comfortable couch in your bedroom.

So this is my gift to you. The trick to spoiling yourself with small simple things, on a daily basis, and most are inexpensive. I hope that I’m not going too Deepak Chopra on you. (I think he is a douche. But I’m saying that with love.) (Or as Triumph the insult comic dog would say, "He is a nice guy,… for me to poop on!")

And forget all my stupid and childish nagging about that image. You know, I’m sure I have a backup of it somewhere (or ten), and this will motivate me to put all my dvd’s in order, and to write that utility to catalog and search the dvd’s. Seriously. Sorry for nagging you. Meanwhile what the heck am I going to do with the 45 megabytes of black-and-white porn? Oh wait… yes… what a grand idea! 😉

Meanwhile that image I sent you has given me an idea. The problem with pegging is that for some reason people assume that men who like that are either masochists, or gay, or want to be sissified. I’m going to write a manifesto for men who love women who finger their men’s butt and more. A paean to prostate massaging and draining if you will. Oh yes, I can feel the Homeric juices flowing in me. This will be greater that the Odyssey and the Iliad put together! A portal to a higher level of intimacy between men and women shall be opened! And now the oppressed and unsatisfied (and unwashed) masses will have to thank me. 😉

OK, I just went over a 1000 words, so time to wrap this email.

Again, and seriously so, sorry for nagging you, I hope and pray that all is well with you and your loved ones, and that life lets you rest and sigh with relief once in a while. And as always, I stand by my unshakeable assertion: that you are the best, the very very best.

Thank you for taking the time to read my emails.

Humbly and adoringly, Mr. B

PS.  The amazing site you introduced me to, Secrets in Lace, has a new item and a new model — both of which are driving me to distraction.  Normally, I’m not very big on blondes, but this woman is in a class of her own.  The picture of the blonde and the brunette (here) is just heaven. I won’t indulge in details, but when I landed on this page half my day was shot, and I literally had to take two rests in between. That site is heaven. It’s art and desire and fantasy fulfillment and style and time and and and. They deserve a Nobel prize.)


Dear Mr. B.:

While you didn’t "indulge in details," I know exactly what you did while you were there.  And you did it more than once, didn’t you?  You know I know, don’t you?

And I have to admit, there really is something quite charming, even disarming, about a man who detours the hard stuff for Secrets and Lace … and shoots half a day.  Or maybe more?

If you get my drift.  Because I certainly get yours.  *wink*

xo, Angela

Your Goodly Emails

Tuesday, June 22nd, 2010

What?  Did you think Phone Sex Goddesses don’t get emails?  I’m here to tell you that we not only get emails, we get fuckin’ awesome emails.  Well, at least I know I do. 

Then again, I kinda-sorta have a theory that there’s a direct link between brains and kink.  So why wouldn’t my guys send brilliant, funny, inspiring, insightful, cute and/or sweet emails?  And while I do get plenty of Phone Sex -specific (What’s a FemDom Hand Job  & Do you do Giantess fantasies? & When is the best time to call you? & Will you castrate me? & I will call again soon. etc.) emails, ll Phone Sex Operators get those.  I’m talkin’ smokin smart & fab emails from my cream-of-the-crop Phone Sex Callers.

That said, anybody who sends me email knows that it’s rare you get a response.  Because, although I read each and every one (oh, yes I do!)  —  I’m a very busy girl.  Really, really.  And if I took the time to answer every email with the "proper" attention it deserved, well, I’d never get anything else done.  As in anything else like Erotic Chatting about Dirty Things over the phone.  As in Phone Sex. 

And I do keep them, each and every one. From my SECRET file  ….

It’s always nice to be thought of:

I was out with friends, one of them being a therapist; and I thought to myself,  "I know someone who provides therapeutic value using nothing but her wits and voice." 

And then when walking in the woods, this little bit of poesy came into my head and I thought you would appreciate it:. 
The drops on the leaves 
Slid down the canopies 
I smiled as I heard the trees 
Rain down a round of sylvan applause. 
Love, Mr. H


Morning after (a three hour) Phone Sex Call:

Good morning, good friend and confidante and muse and lover and "one to whom I can say almost anything" and political transformer (of *me*) and fellow book-lover and theatre buff … and more and more and more. Have a great day!

I guess I, ahem, inspired him:

Dear Angela- 
When I was strolling down the street the other day, this is the thought I had: 
It all boiled down to this: 
She wanted my body, 
and I am 
a slut.

Who knows where it came from, or where it’s going, but that rang a bell inside me, so I thought I’d share it with you. 

Your Pal, Mr. D.

After a sing-a-long during a Phone Sex Call:

Do you know about the original  ‘The Lion Sleeps Tonight‘  and the the neat history on how the poor Zulu that wrote the song got peanuts for the hit?


Oh, Mr. B.  You’re such a naughty one:

I’m thinking of auctioning off  my next orgasm since it will be two-plus weeks for me.   I didnt’ even do any edging.  Since climaxes usually give me migraines, this one ought to be a doozy!!!  I’ve got to be able to find SOME sadists around who would like a piece of that, right?  All are welcome to play.  However, contest results are final  (and sticky).

After he’d sent me a pic of his very erect penis:

My recent email to you, which prompted a "no comment" response:

_____A.  tickled you pink ‘cuz you can’t wait to frame it next to your Obama poster.

_____B.  mildly amused you ‘cuz it just confirmed your opinion of all men.

_____C.  mildly irritated you ‘cuz you really don’t want to get this unsolicited crap from me especially.

_____D.  really pissed you off.

Pencil down, Ms. St. Lawrence.  You are, by the way, guaranteed an A+, but we can talk about that later in my office. 

Mr. J sent me this cute Joke:

A little old lady, well into her eighties, slowly enters the front door of a sex shop. Obviously very unstable on her feet, she wobbles we way across the store to the counter.   Finally arriving at the counter and grabbing it for support, she stutters to the sales clerk: "Dddooo youuuu hhhave dddddiilllldosss?"

The clerk, politely trying not to burst out laughing, replies: “Yes we do have dildos. Actually we carry many different models."

The old woman then asks: “Dddddoooo yyyouuuu ccaarrryy aaa pppinkk vvvibbbratttinginging onnee, tttenn inchessss lllong aaandd aabboutt ttwoo inchesss ththiickk…aaand runns by bbaatteries?"

The clerk responds, “Yes we do.”

She asks: ” Ddddooo yyoooouuuu kknnnoooww hhhowww tttooo ttturrrnnn ttthe ssonoooffabbitch offffff?” 

 For my Poetry Jones from PQS


Thought you’d like this one:

by Ron Padgett

It’s not that hard to climb up
on a cross and have nails driven
into your hands and feet.
Of course it would hurt, but
if your mind were strong enough
you wouldn’t notice. You
would notice how much farther
you can see up here, how
there’s even a breeze
that cools your leaking blood.
The hills with olive groves fold in
to other hills with roads and huts,
flocks of sheep on a distant rise.

So what do you think, Angie? How many people will "get it"?

A little bit of devotion is always nice:

Miss Angela:

I hope you remember speaking with me a few nights ago.  Having never experienced anything like that  encounter, I’ve since been reading Zen Fetish and Blistered Lips. I knew you were special as soon as we’d exchanged a few words and wanted to learn more.  In reading all that you’ve written (what I’ve gotten to so far), I’m in total awe.  Now I understand I was truly, for the first time ever, in the hands of a TRUE  Goddess. 

I want you to know that I’ll be calling again soon, very soon.

I can’t get you out of my head.  But I’m sure you’re very well aware of that.

Sincerely, Slave J.Z

Okay, I think that’s quite enough for today.  I hope you enjoyed kicking the email tires with me, because I have a bunch more, which we will get to at a later date.  Of course they are all hidden away nicely in my SECRET Phone Sex Email File, where they will stay and many more will be added before we do this again. 

In the mean time, check out Ron Padgett’s website HERE

And PQS?  Sadly, I don’t think a lot of people will "get it."  But I do, you do, most of my readers do.  And I’m absolutely positive that Vanilla Savant will get it.  He thinks like we do.  What say you, Vanilla Savant?  Anybody else?

To Slave JZ:  Of course I remember you.  Don’t you even think for a moment that I wouldn’t.  You just might be capable of earning highly-coveted title of  "Favored Slave."  We’ll have to see how this all works out, won’t we? 

xo,  Angela

FAN — m a l e

Tuesday, May 18th, 2010


Dearest Miss Angela:

I saw you online today in the early afternoon hours and by the time I grabbed my credit card and other necessary accoutrements, you were busy and then after an hour or some, away.

I kept checking the whole afternoon and into the later hours to no avail.  Craving a connection with you (however fleeting — I was desperate for you, beloved Mistress) I started reading your entries and stories and clicking on the links on your pages, and I ended up in  Secrets in Lace

How did I — pervert, pornography lover, pleasure addict — not know of this site?  I couldn’t help myself, and began to masturbate so furiously and insanely that I came all over my pants and onto the floor.  Even this did not sate my desire for you, but still you were not availabe.  And so I ripped off my pants.  And even being  on the wrong side of 40, I immediately started masturbating again, groaning with absolutely no control over my senses. I came again, raw and wet and sticky, panting, covered in sweat, my arm cramped, my cock shriveled up, blue and pink happy.  And the first thing I thought was: I wish I could speak with Angela; I wish I could go again.

Secrets in Lace is the most amazing site ever, and I would never have found it if not for you.  I think I’m going to buy their stuff just so that I can touch it. For a lingerie and vintage fetishist like me, this is where and when every nerve ending in my body and every sense is enveloped in a feeling of completeness, of perfection, of pure joy. All senses overwhelmed, dazzled by the shine of pantyhose, the tight and soft texture of garter belts, the sound of my fingers sliding on a camisole, the taste of a nipple getting harder and darker behind a demi-cup bra, the smell of a woman’s flower getting wetter and opening itself for me under an open-bottom girdle.  Even now, thinking about these things, I find myself once again aroused.

I am begging you to find time for me tomorrow because I do need you so very much.  The reason?  I want to take one of the fantasies you’ve been gently urging me to explore a step further.  I don’t know where it will take me, and I don’t know if I have the courage to go there.   Only with your guidance and reassurance do I dare breach that door.  Strange – every woman I’ve ever had sex with has told me at one time or another that I’m the most uninhibited guy they ever met.  Would they appreciate the irony of my needing you to force my boundaries?

I’ve often told you that even I am amazed that I’ve shared so much with you.  I’ve expressed desires and hungers with you that I’ve never shared with with any woman, be she someone I have a real-time sexual relationship with or a Phone Sex Operator/Fantasy Girl.  The truth is that any other phone-fantasy girl pales and wilts in comparison to you.  Yet I have been frozen for weeks in this place, facing the door I dare not open.

But here I am and I understand that I will have to make a major leap of faith in myself, and go forward just trusting you.  I want to open that door, and see what that room is like.  There is absolutely no one whose instincts I trust as much as I trust yours. Although my heart is palpitating with fear, I know that with both your decisive skill and superior intellect I will be in the best of hands.  And so I am reaching out to you, waiting for you to take my hand.  Waiting for you to let loose your transcendent imagination and walk me into that room.  That room that holds both my desires and fears.  Desires you’ve patiently nurtured until now they loom across my sexual psyche and can no longer be ignored. 

Desires you’ve created in a room you’ve created for this man you’ve created.  And I adore you for it.

Telling you that you are the finest and the best is just proof of the limitations of language. There aren’t words for you.  Perfect? Not enough. Deliciously and wickedly delightful?  Not even close.  A spinning Dervish of sexual imagination and willingness to explore?  Close, but still not quite there.

You are YOU.  There is no other.

Thank you, Mr. N

More than Talking Dirty

Saturday, October 10th, 2009

Dearest Angela:

Having a nice day here in [ANONYMOUS CITY]. Got a haircut, ate lunch downtown (which means leftovers for supper, but good’uns), and did Yoga and a quick walk to the supermarket for milk.   yoga class was crowded. There was even a girl in like middle school (who was incredibly flexible). The teacher is always so nice, and says I’m coming along well. I’m honored to hear the complement.

[ANONYMOUS DOG] went by the vet school again today. It looks like one of his blood levels reflecting kideny function is a little higher than we’d like. He may be getting a little dehydrated, so at the market I bought him some watermelon. When I was waiting for him at the vet school yesterday I wrote the following, which I hope you’ll enjoy:


Just as real to me as the memory of your kiss
The feel of your fingertips on my lower lip.
Quieting my desperation by quenching my desire.

My heart rests by falling through the floor.
The roaring in my ears presupposes the day you say good-bye.
Now I draw this pen across these pages
instead of my hands along your sides.
And I moan into the moonlight
instead of looking into your eyes.



p.s. I also bought little two dollar pencil sharpener. Look out journal, here comes the color pencils!


I’d saved this email forever and a day (sent 5/20/09) … it was so special to me.  So, yes.  There’s a whole lot more going on behind the Phone Sex Curtain than most would imagine.  Most of my clients are witty, smart, creative and continually surprise me.  They’re doctors, lawyers and — for all I know — even Indian chiefs.  They read/write poetry, volunteer at soup kitchens, play Santa at hospitals, publish books (one in particular that I’m sure you’ve read or at least heard of),  fly planes, climb mountains, teach school, live the good life post retirement, and every other thing you could imagine.

They are the guy next to you on the light rail, the doctor who took save your mother’s life, the minister who taught last summer’s bible study, the psychologist who sits next to you at your NA meeting …

… the football player, the opera singer, the grocery clerk, the personal trainer, the television star, the hot shot lawyer, the multi-level marketing guru, the bus driver.

… they are Jewish, Catholic, Agnostic, Muslim, Unitarian, Methodist, Presbyterian, Buddhist.

… they are Italian, American, Greek, French.

… they are white, black, yellow, red.

They are everyman.  And you better believe it … there’s a lot more to this Phone Sex thing than Talking Dirty.

xo, Angela

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