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

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

Now isn’t this just perfect for my office?

And it’s all Slip of a Girl’s fault. I am telling you: She is d-a-n-g-e-r-o-u-s.

But as I told Sliperetta (and Michelle):

How could I not? Won’t it be fab -matted and framed- hanging above the Frog-Prince figurine (a little tip-o-the-hat to my callers) gracing my desk?

xo, Angela

My beloved Pervert Savant sends the following poem, “with apologies to Betty Krainis, whose poem “Keep it Low“, I blatantly plagiarized from.” (But, hey, he’s at least trying, so give the little deviate a break…why don’t ya?):

Angie St. Lawrence is her name
And oral fantasy is her game

If your sex life’s a bleak November
She’s human Viagra for your member

Like to dress in women’s clothes?
Be abused? Suck a nose?

Mince about? Like a sissy?
Better call this sexy Missy!

Is your pleasure cunnilingus?
Or a dildo in your dingus?

Care to suck a zoo gorilla?
Or just do it straight vanilla?

Ever try it hot and dental?
Angie’ll do you; she’s non-judgmental

Got a thing for women’s toes?
Whips and chains? Or pantyhose?

It doesn’t matter. What’s your pleasure?
Just call Angie at your leisure

Some PSOs aren’t real smart
They’ll take your money, then depart

Angie’s different. She’s a honey
You’ll get a GOOD ride for your money!

So don’t just sit there in your panties
Dial up Angie. She’ll wear scanties!

(And Mr. PQS: You really didn’t do much plagiarizing. You just did what most poets do all the time. Which was to admire a rhyme or conceit or metric or pattern or whatever…and run with it. That is how it all gets written, don’t you know?)

And for something completely different, check out my first-ever erotic/dirty sonnet, I Love You with all of my Hard-On, published at Sex Kitten recently.

And did you notice, there is no title for Pervert Savant’s poem? Any ideas out there?

xo, Angela

‘Cuz it sure isn’t me.

I think this has to do with the Case of the Missing Maid.  At least that’s all I can put my finger on.

In case you hadn’t heard, I’ve been in the process of hiring a maid for quite a while now; literally, months.  Well I finally did it.  I came down off of my picky-prickly high horse and finally picked someone.  The deed was done and we were ready to go!

She requested particular cleaning products.  I made a special trek to the store to purchase every item on her list.  Was even paying her more than she’d asked for (I just thought she was under-valuing herself. Guess it’s the FemDom in me.)  She tells me she wants to start at 7:00am.  Not in my game plan.  But, hey, nobody (just you hush yo’ mouth, hdb) ever said I was inflexible.

That was yesterday. The day of the lovely surprise snowstorm.

So I found myself glad to be up so early.  Up in the still-black morning to see our first snowfall clinging to recently glabrous trees: hopeful harbinger of a glorious winter of white vistas observed and made pristine through the glass of the French doors off my living area as I sat – wool sockies and hot chocolate – snug and safe in front of my blazing fireplace.

But the bitch didn’t show up.

Because the morning was so fine, so perfect…I could have forgiven her this. The weather was bad, also unexpected, which could have shaken her up.  And I tend to be the forgiving type.  So when she did call, long after the scheduled time to offer up just such excuses, I did forgive her.  And we rescheduled for today.

Today, 7:00am, telephone rings: “Hello, Angela. This is Maria. I’m on my way.”

Guess what?  She didn’t show up again.  And the snow melted.

So while I mope and crank and feel sorry for myself, lets see who is feeling sexy:

• Looks like Michelle is all dressed up and feeling pretty scrumptious.
• Richard is humming along to the Nutcracker Suite.
• Mistress Edenn is ready to make you “blush and squirm as I probe for all your secret vulnerabilities and make you confess your most embarrassing fantasies.”
• Looking for some girl on girl action?
• Maybe a bit of maternal direction is what you need?
• Barely legal nymphos are always fun. Go ahead. Don’t be shy.
• And Sabrina is always smolderingly hot.
• Not to mention the ever-enticing and intriguing Kat.

So there you go. There’s a lot of sexy people out there. Including myself. Just not tonight.