blistered lips

Just turned into that kinda day. How was I to know?

Cocksucker is such a great word, huh?

And so many boys wanna do it. They just aren’t telling the girlfriends and wives. Take it from me. Take it from any girl who takes phone sex calls: Lots of boys want to job the knob, lick the stick, eat the meat. Not to mention swallow the load.

Today was a day of many new callers.

Some of which have already been permanently blocked because I will never judge a fantasy but refuse to tolerate assholes. And unfortunately a few slipped through the cracks. It always happens and I always deal with it accordingly: Get lost. Don’t let the dial tone bite your in the ass on you way out. Goodbye.

And then there were the five (something in the water, perhaps?) wannabe cocksuckers. Yum yum yum. So nice for them to stop by. Sparkling pure new victims for me to corrupt. Delicious to talk with and oh so dirty. Dirty little cocksuckers for Mistress Angela. At least on the phone in our world of erotic mind fucks. Where they are safe to be dirty and I am the woman to make it happen.

And I so like making it happen:

Dwayne thought he would like to be forced to suck one cock. I made him suck that one cock while forcing my fingers into his rump. He liked it. He liked it and was embarrassed that he liked it so much. Nonetheless, he did. He knows that I know that he did. I hope he blushes tomorrow every time he thinks about what he did with me/for me today.

Stephen was one of three Stephens who called me today. “Perhaps a little bit of humiliation,” he shyly asked. I tied his weenie in a pink bow and made him show it to my girlfriends and apologize for its smallness. Then he had to suck all of their boyfriends cocks. Except Madison’s boyfriend. Samuel decided he wanted to deflower the little fruit loop and fucked him. Fucked him hard. Stephen emailed me the sweetest thank you note.

Craig started out requesting a cuckolding fantasy — one of my favorites, as you should know. And he did, indeed, witness his little wifey taking her pleasure with more than a few well-hung studs. But I just couldn’t fuck the last guy. I was sore, dontcha know? So I made my little cocksucker-neonate cucky-hubby drop to his knees and suck the thick shaft I was holding in my hand while I watched up close and personal. And wouldn’t you know it? Craig got an amazing erection sucking that cock. So I made him masturbate and cum simultaneously with the guy pumping his mouth. Naughty husband! Very naughty.
Simon said (well-meant pun) he wanted total enslavement. So I took him to Femtopia, an idyllic world which exists in my mind and to which I occasionally invite the very lucky. The dominant Goddess-Women there demanded that Simon and the other man-slaves perform man-sex acts for them. Simon got quite the cum bath. And was only permitted his own orgasm when drinking man-spunk from his own rectum.

And beloved David. A regular caller with irregular fantasies and the heart of an Angel. And probably the only caller out of the five to have actually sucked a cock in his VERY REAL life. I treated him like a dawg and he loved every minute of it. And so did I.

Just another day at the office.

The Angela St. Lawrence Office of Smut.

Stop by anytime.

xo, Angela

A sub-fetish of Erotic Humiliation, Penis Humiliation is the hottest thing in Phone Sex these days. And while some readers might think this an odd fantasy/fetish/kink, most Phone Sex Operators are quite used to it and actually have a lot of fun with it.

Think of it as a form of VERBAL BDSM. I mean, after all, the Phone Domme can’t really use whips and chains and Ben Gay (ouch, indeed, very much). But she can use words. It is arguably more erotically powerful to dominate with real words — real bad, mean words — rather than “and now I am going to beat you.” And what matters most to a man? His dick. It may seem a trite observation, but it is nonetheless true.

I often say that our poor men — they just can’t help it. After all, it’s like God created them with the supreme disadvantage of having a gear shift sticking out right there, right there in front for the world to see … even with the cover of trousers! How can the NOT think about it all the time? And it makes them very vulnerable, doesn’t it?

So why not go for the girth? Make every word count and hit him with those words where it hurts the most? Only, in this case, with pain — there’s no gain. Little Willie leaves the encounter none the worse for the wear … but none the better. His sad puny prick is still sad and still puny.

It makes sense. Penis size is very much on the male mind (don’t ask — he won’t admit it) at least some of the time. Horns-waggling, doolally spammers bank on it. In my personal email recently:

Female Orgasms: Bigger means Better for your Woman
Your tool is so small she hardly finds it in bed?
Penetrate Deeper
Enhance your masculine tool
Fill out your erectile tissue
Enlarging your male weapon means winning a competition
From now on you will be able to satisfy each size-queen
Your male power will return like a boomerang

Now, admittedly, this Mystery Meat (pun intended) was more than likely sent from the one and only internet cafe in some backward jungle — the spammer believing the hype of myriad porn sites. But he is on to something and it must make money, because everybody finds this stuff in their in-boxes. Even me, and I have a very feminine personal email address. It’s the marketing method of Quantity over Quality … just like a Size Queen Fantasy! The irony is delicious.

Besides being a subcategory of Erotic Humiliation, Small Penis Humiliation is a major theme in Cuckolding Fantasies. Particularly when the Cuckoldress’s lovers are studly black bulls. It’s the stark differences that give these fantasies their edge: Black vs. White, Woman vs. Male, Wife vs. Husband, Large vs. Small. So, even if it’s not quite your thing, perhaps you can understand that, for others, it’s sizzling hot.

Forced Bi Fantasies will often contain at least a portion of Small Penis Humiliation, with size functioning to underline one’s role in the fantasy: large equals dominant, small equals submissive. The feeling of tractability can be deeply enhanced when the physicality of size is used as emphasis.

So Big Cock, Small Cock, Average Cock … what’s it all about, Angela?

Well, you might recall that I actually wrote an about this in an essay, Erotic Humiliation is Not an Oxymoron, for the book, Sex Kitten Presents the BDSM Issue. While I don’t discuss Small Penis Humiliation per se, I do talk about the “fantasy” of being verbally humiliated, taunted and abused by a beautiful and powerful FemDom.

As far as me, personally: Is bigger better? Do I or don’t I? Well, you’ll just have to READ ALL ABOUT IT.

xo, Angela

I have a very clear and fond memory of the circumstances surrounding my very first pair of stockings. I’d just turned fifteen and my father had given me his credit card with permission to specifically purchase a pair of pantyhose and a few other girlie things. I didn’t want pantyhose. I wanted nylons and a garter belt. And I was bound and determined to have my way.

Never underestimate a teenage girl’s ingenuity, particularly when she has her babysitting money stashed away for a rainy day…or lingerie.

When I returned from the mall, I hastily scooted past my father, who was working a crossword puzzle at the kitchen table, and up to my bedroom, before he could ask to see what was in my packages. Once I’d hidden the Victoria’s Secret swag, I returned with his credit card and a receipt which clearly listed pantyhose as one of my purchases. He was happy and I was happy.

The first time I wore those stockings was for an interview for a summer job. I’d bought a new dress and my first pair of really high heels that day at the mall, too, so I was feeling pretty grown-up when I went out the front door and hurried to the bus stop, resume in hand.

Now I’d already pretty much figured out how to get and keep a boy’s attention by then. (When you’re Catholic, such talents are part of your DNA.) In fact, I thought I was pretty good at this boy-girl thing. But until that day, I had no idea that –just by slipping into a sexy pair of nylons– I could increase my sex appeal (translation: power) ten fold.

Teenagers, grandfathers, adolescents, middle-aged men–it didn’t matter–were ogling me, opening doors, smiling, melting, practically drooling. Perhaps some heavenly alignment had brought all the stocking fetishists out to play on that particular day. Or could it be that I looked so damn hot I was actually creating them in my wake? Nah! I really think each and every man has at least a little bit of a stocking fetish. Pretty legs are…well…they’re pretty!

At one point a man stopped me. “Miss,” he said, “I hope you don’t take offense, but I just want to tell you that you have beautiful gams.” Of course, being fifteen, I’d never heard the word “gams” before. And while I might have been a vixen in training, I was (and still am) a polite young lady. So I smiled brightly and said, “Thank you very much,” and continued down the street.

Later I asked an adult and found out that gams referred to legs … a word The Chairman of the Board might have used to describe Shirley MacClaine’s lanky appendages. So my own little mini lingerie fetish was born. Because if it was good enough for Shirley and the Rat Pack, it was good enough for me.

Besides, stockings are so damn sexy, aren’t they?

“I’m sending you away for a while. I don’t know what else to do.”

You’d heard Miss Margaret’s car pulling into the driveway, even as your mother started to cry. Sitting here now in the spare bedroom of her summer house, you’re waiting for Miss Margaret, wondering what she is going to do. She won’t break me, you think to yourself.

When the door finally opens, Miss Margaret is not alone. Two teenage girls, beautiful teenage girls, and some bulked-up guy–probably one of those weightlifters, you think– enter the room behind her.

“So this is the naughty boy,” the blonde says, “He doesn’t exactly look tough to me. What do you think, Barry?” She looks at the guy expectantly. He doesn’t answer her, but looks at you grinning. You don’t like that grin; there’s something menacing about it. And for the first time, you start getting a little nervous. Miss Margaret sits beside you on the bed. Miss Margaret’s voice hisses at your ear as she suddenly grabs your balls through your jeans.

“Do you know what Miss Margaret does with smart-ass college boys who don’t know how to behave?”

Before you can react, the redhead in the purple dress has pulled out a cord of rope from somewhere and you’re feeling a sharp pinch in your right shoulder muscle. You try to say something, but your words come out thick and slurred. Then everything goes dark.

***

You are swimming. No, it only feels like you are swimming, lead weight against your waking slumber, pushing you back. Forcing your eyelids against the heaviness you try to think, try to remember. Blurry shapes, movement. Something in front of your face.

“Open your mouth.”

The voice is deep, a man’s voice. Somebody is giggling. Something fleshy, bulbous is pushing against your dry lips. You want to lick them, moisten them, but don’t dare, because somewhere deep inside of you, you know what that something is.

“Rachael, why don’t you tell this young man exactly what is expected of him.”

Miss Margaret’s throaty voice. The giggling again. One, no–two girls. You remember them, the blonde and the redhead. I need to get the hell out of here, you think. You try to move, feel the tight restraints across your chest and arms, your hips, your spread legs. Something cold, cold metal between your legs. The blonde is looming above you, sneering wickedly. “You feel this,” she asks, reaching between your legs, and you feel the the smooth, cool band of metal tightening around your testicles. She smiles as you moan in pain.

“Now here’s the deal, college boy,” Rachael purrs, pushing your bangs back with her free hand, then cupping your face. The redhead is there now, reaching for your cock and beginning to stroke it as Rachael wraps her free hand around the dick bobbing against your cheek. “You are going to suck my boyfriend’s big, fat dick and you are going to swallow his load.” She moves the head of the cock, a slick bubble of precum teetering from its slit, down the bridge of your nose, across your upper lip. You try to turn your head, but her fingers tighten around your chin as she smears the precum across your tightly pressed lips.

“Either you open up and take it like a good boy, or I’ll tighten this so quick you just might lose these balls.”

She gives the metal device a quick turn. “I’m not kidding.”

Your mouth opens in a groan as Rachael slides the head of Barry’s cock onto your tongue.

“Does our college boy dick-eater have a stiffie, Marla?”

As Rachael forces the prick into the back of your mouth, you hear the blonde and Miss Margaret laughing.

“He’s as hard as a fucking rock.”

And you know she’s right, because despite the shame, despite everything, you are hotter than you’ve ever been.

“That’s a good boy,” you hear Miss Margaret say as you start sucking the dick in earnest.” Now swallow that big load. And when you do, Marla will let you cum. Won’t you dear?”

And you do.