web hit counter

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  ...

CLICK HERE.

Archive for the 'Smut by Proxy' Category

Fuck Bucks from my Cuck-Sucker

Monday, June 16th, 2014

golden cuckold

I call you on NiteFlirt and you immediately say, “I was expecting your call, Gary.  I see you tributed me 25 dollars this morning. I am assuming you lost the bet. You broke down, cut the lock off, and fucked the wife last night, didn’t you?”

“Yes, Ma’am. I was so horny,” I reply.

“You know what that means, Gary. Don’t you?” .

“Yes, Ma’am.  I hand over ownership of my wife’s pussy to you.”

“Not so fast,” you say and I immediately notice that your voice is firm.  It is not the bouncy, free conversation we have had in the past.

“I told you before how this was going to happen.  Get down on your knees.  Right now.  On you knees.  We have business to attend to.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Try Again.”

“Yes, Ms. Angela?”

“That’s better.  Now I want to hear you say it; repeat after me:  Dear Ms. Angela, I freely hand over ownership of my wife’s pussy to you.”

“Dear Ms. Angela, I freely hand over ownership of my wife’s pussy to you.”

“Don’t you fucking mumble like a little wimp.  Am I supposed to turn up the volume on this phone just to hear your whimpering? Now say it again. Say it like you mean it.”

“Dear Ms. Angela, I freely hand over ownership of my wife’s pussy to you.”

*Bang*

*Bang*

*Bang*

It takes me a moment to realize you are pounding your phone on your desk.  “Again, louder.  Scream it, you Little-Dick Cuck.  I want your goddam neighbors to hear it.”  And so I do what I am commanded to do.

“DEAR MS. ANGELA, I FREELY HAND OVER OWNERSHIP OF MY WIFE’S PUSSY TO YOU.”

“Mmmm.  Music to my ears.  Of course, technically-speaking, you can’t hand over ownership. You don’t own your wife’s pussy.  She does. But what you did just do was hand over YOUR CLAIM to it.  From now on I own it as far as you are concerned.  That is MY pussy!  Do you have a calendar there?”

“Yes, Ms Angela.”

“Great, Circle today’s date.  That is to remind you today was the day you lost any claim on your wife’s pussy and gave it to me.”

“Yes, Ms. Angela.,”

“You know, Gary, usually the Cuckold  hands over their claim on their wife’s pussy to the wife’s new lover.  You just handed it to a NiteFlirt FemDomme.”  I hear you laughing and I close my eyes, hanging my head in shame.

“Write this down, Cuck-Sucker.  ‘Today I handed any claim of my wife’s pussy to Ms. Angela.  From now on, I can not fuck my wife without Ms Angela’s permission.  Miss Angela owns my wife’s pussy.’  Got it?”

“Yes, Ms. Angela.”

“That is the feedback you will leave me today.  You are going to tell the whole world, or at least everyone that reads my feedback, what you just did today.  Everyone will be laughing at you, Gary, my little Cuck-Sucker. Can’t even fuck his own wife without my permission.  Who owns that pussy?”

“Ms. Angela owns my wife’s pussy,” I reply.

You laugh hysterically and go on, “Now, because I am a benevolent owner of your wife’s pussy, during the next 30 days I will allow you to fuck MY pussy once. You will pay me 25 dollars — 25 Fuck Bucks — for the privilege of fucking your own wife.  It is the going rate for the typical street whore?  You will pay the price of a street whore and turn your loving wife into my prostitute for the evening.  Now tell me again, who owns that pussy?”

Ms. Angela owns my wife’s pussy,” I answer robustly, because this time I know better.

“That’s right, Cuck-Sucker.  I own it.  You even brush up against it, you hug her and absentmindedly rub her pussy — I mean, MY pussy — it will cost you 5 bucks.  No touching MY pussy without paying me.  You are not even allowed to look at it.  If you even catch a glimpse of that wifey snatch by accident?  That’s 5 dollars.  No peeking at MY pussy, Gary.  That’s right, 5 Fuck Bucks for even a teeny-weeny peek. Now again, who owns that pussy?”

“Ms Angela owns my wife’s pussy,” I answer, again robustly.

“Now I would certainly never deny a woman sex if she wants it.  After all, I own that pussy now and I want it to be a happy pussy.   So if your wife wants sex — not you, but her, because I don’t  care what you want — you will give it to her.  Of course you will.  But guess what, Cuck-Sucker?  It will cost you 50 dollars–that’s  50 Fuck Bucks for me.  And you WILL NOT deny your wife just because you want to save a few bucks.  Do you understand? You will fuck her, but you will pay me 50 bucks.

And, of course, you will also lick it clean.   Because, Gary, you never — never, ever, ever — leave MY pussy messy.  Are we on the same page? Do you get what I’m saying?”

“Yes, Ms. Angela.”

“Now if you get horny and want to fuck MY pussy a second time this the month — or any other month, for that matter — you are perfectly free to do that.  Pretty nice of me, eh?  But there’s a catch, Gary.  Do you want to know what that catch is?  Do you?

“Yes, Ms. Angela.”

“Well,  ‘lil Cuck-Sucker the catch is that it will cost you $100.  Yep! $100 Fuck Bucks.  And why do you think that is? Come on, you’re smart enough.  You should be figuring it out by now. Tell me. Come on.”

“Ms. Angela owns my wife’s pussy.”

“Mmm.  Music to my ears.  Now don’t get too worried, Gary.  If I am ever getting strapped for cash, I might run a sale. You know … a blue light special.  For example, a 12 hour special something like:  I am selling your wife’s pussy for $59.95. Come and get it.”  You break out laughing.

“I might run special sales throughout the month.  Then again, there will be days when I absolutely, I forbid you to fuck MY pussy. Why? Just because I fucking can. That’s why. Now sing to me, Gary, sing to me my favorite song.”

“Ms Angela owns my wife’s pussy,” I iterate, feeling less and less like the man my wife believes me to be, and more and more like your besmirched little choir boy.  I’m even still on my knees, as you’d ordered me at the beginning of this call.

“Maybe I’ll even run little mini-specials now and again.  Maybe 10 strokes for 20 bucks.  Now, you have to admit that’s pretty damn generous of me. You would be allowed to slide your little dick in and out 10 times.  That is all. You cum within 10 strokes, you win.  You don’t cum, too bad and you pull out.  10 strokes is all you paid me for, 10 strokes is all you get.

But here’s the fun part.  If it just feels so damn good that you want to keep it in for 11 or 12 strokes and let that little guy squirt?  Cum in MY pussy?  Well then, you just did your second fucking for the month, didn’t you?  And you know what that means, don’t you?  More Fuck Bucks for me.  $100 more Fuck Bucks to be exact.

Devious of me, but so delicious, don’t you think?”

I start to answer you with your assigned mantra, because I know who is in charge here.  I know I’m whipped.  But as soon as “yes” is out of my mouth you tell me to shut up.  You continue talking.  I can hear the eagerness, the glee in your voice.

“Oh yeah, I expect to make a quite a few extra bucks selling that wifey pussy back to you.  She’ll be a great little money maker for me. Keep an eye out for my email specials.  I’ll send them every so often.

“Now are you locked up, Cuck-Sucker? Hmmm?

‘No, Ms Angela,” I answer.

“Lock that fucking little dick up.  For Chrizts sake, I have a pussy to protect now.  I don’t want your little dick running free anywhere near MY pussy.  Basically, Gary, you don’t get to fuck anymore, unless you’re paying me for the privilege. gary without me. Send me proof that your little dick is locked up.

Now one more time, who owns that pussy?”

“Ms Angela owns my wife’s pussy.”

You laugh,  or perhaps it’s a snicker.

“And don’t you ever forget it.”

*click*

….

You are gone. I get up from my knees and go to my computer.  I watch my fingers shake as I type.

Today I handed any claim of my wife’s pussy to Ms Angela.  From now on, I cannot fuck my wife without Ms Angela’s permission.  Miss Angela now owns my wife’s pussy.

I hit the enter button.

——————————————-

This was a true collaboration between me and a special caller.  He wrote it up with his horny little fingers,  and I shined it up a bit.  We hope you like it.

——————————————-

Photo Credit:  The Lingham Phallic Penis Amulet for Money & Love which is found here.  Who’s going to buy me one?  ‘Cuz isn’t it the cutest thing ever?

xo, Angela

from socks to fedora …

Wednesday, May 7th, 2014

This just in from Jerotic:

Jeremy_200I am amazed and ecstatic! The Pleasure Dial: An Erotocomedic Novel of Old-Time Radio has been awarded a bronze medal in the 2014 Independent Publisher Book Awards! The gold and silver for erotica went to the illustrious Alison Tyler and D. L. King–and needless to say I’m honored to be in their company.

Meanwhile, catching up, since it’s been a while… recent(ish) short-story publications include “Unsnubbed,” in Xoxo: Sweet and Sexy Romance (ed. Kristina Wright); and “Whom,” in Book Lovers: Sexy Stories from Under the Covers (ed. Shawna Kenney).

Short-story publications coming later this year include “Tickle Day,” in Hungry for More (ed. Rachel Kramer Bussel); and “The Nude, Stripped Naked,” in The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica 13 (ed. Maxim Jakubowski). And a few more anthology appearances are in the pipeline for 2015.

There are also some older anthologies now being reissued with new titles and new covers. I definitely encourage you to check them out if the themes appeal to you—just make sure, before buying, that you don’t already own the original versions (unless you’re a real collector!). Lust in Latex (which includes my story “Tire Stud”) was formerly Rubber Sex; Flying High (which includes my story “Get On, Get Off”) was formerly The Mile High Club; and the forthcoming Nine-to-Five Fantasies is, I think, a reissue of Open for Business (which includes my story “One Cubicle Over,” aka “Mindy’s Pheromones”).

from socks to fedora,
Jeremy

www.jeremyedwardserotica.com

_______________________________________

You really should buy his stuff. He writes erotica very well.  I mean, it is AWARD WINNING!

Plus, he’s a genuinely sweet guy.  Which goes a long way with me.

xo, Angela

This happens every single day …

Monday, November 19th, 2012

… at my house.

The Tray Holder

November 2012

by Slave N for Miss Angela

 

When the doorbell rang I waited for a signal from Mistress Angela. She slowly finished polishing her last two toenails in fiery burgundy, closed the fingernail polish bottle carefully, and folded her iPad shut putting it on the coffee table in front of her. She leaned back on the cream colored sofa pillows and pulled on the long leather strap that was tied to the collar around my neck. I looked at her dutifully and waited. She tousled her hair, looked at her toenails, and waved in the direction of the door.

I walked to the door making sure I was following Mistress Angela’s training. I was not allowed to wobble on my five inch heels (ten lashes if I did), my seamed stockings had to be perfectly straight (ten lashes for each unruly seam) and I had to make very crisp sounds on the wooden floor as I walked around (twenty lashes if my steps were not clearly audible).

“Who is this?” I asked.

“Ken and Javier.” answered two voices.

I paused for two beats and then opened the door.

“Mistress Angela has been expecting you, please come in.” I said opening the door wider and standing aside.

Two tall men entered. Both were about six feet, in excellent physical shape. The man with the copper skin was clearly Javier. Jet black hair, green eyes and a square jaw, clearly Mistress Angela’s type. Ken, with a hint of Japanese or Korean features and sporting tortoise shell eyeglasses was more of a hippie type, with his brown hair in a ponytail.

“May I take your jackets, gentlemen?” I asked.

They looked at each other, then at Mistress Angela and then burst laughing.

“Angela, c’mon! How do you have the heart to do this?”

Mistress Angela pulled on the long leather strap enough to get it waving, enough to get my attention. I turned to her. She leaned her petite face pensively on her hand.

“Well, this is Nicolette. She used to be Nick once. He was always attracted to strong women. When we met, he gradually realized that deep down he had always craved for a mistress, and that I was who he wanted to serve. Now he wants nothing other than to be my slave.”

Mistress Angela fanned the folds of her flowery dress slowly, deliberately feigning a casual girlishness. The two men looked at her like hungry wolves. I could see their cocks bulging in their tight pants. These fools were oblivious of what they were in for and how demanding my mistress could be.

“Turn around Nicolette,” Mistress Angela commanded, “slowly so that they can appreciate your dedication.”

I carefully made sure that my ponytail buttplug was firmly in place and then I slowly turned around.

“Every day Nicolette wears a wig that I choose for her. I do her makeup myself. She loves extra-long eyelashes and very dramatic lip gloss because she is an utter and complete slut. Then she gets into her French maid corset. She is not allowed to wear a bottom, because at all times, all times, I want to see her horsehair ponytail waving around and I want her cute butt-cheeks to be exposed to my wrath. Besides, I want to enjoy the sight of her cock in the male chastity cage I bought for her. She must wear seamed silk stockings and five inch heels at all times. And she knows the price of unruly seams.”

Mistress Angela paused.

“Isn’t that right, Nicolette?”

“Yes Mistress,” I answered.

“Why is his cock so purple?” asked Javier.

“Because my dear boy, Nicolette knows what is about to transpire here, and she is getting aroused, and that is causing her cock to strain against the chastity cage. In fact Nicolette has not been allowed to pleasure herself for the last five weeks, so pretty much anything will arouse her by now.”

“So this dude is not allowed to jerk off?”

“Of course not, Ken, you silly goose. And by the way, Nicolette is not a ‘dude’ she is a pussy and cock-craving sissy slut. Now, Nicolette has learned the hard way that she can orgasm only when I let her. If she comes without my permission, it’s thirty five lashes.”

“What’s the worst this poor sissy ever got?”

“Ah,” Mistress Angela smiled, slowly taking off her light lavender shirt as she spoke, and letting her perfect breasts come out in their perky fullness, “Nicolette made the mistake of stealing the key to her chastity device and jerk off while I was masturbating in my bed. I caught her peeking through my door, and fifty lashes it was right there and then. She could not sit down for two weeks.”

Mistress Angela cupped her breasts in her hands.

“So do you boys insist on talking about my sissy slave, or are you going to complement me on the bronze glitter I painted my nipples with?”

The two men were waiting for this ever since they had come in. They turned away from me and started crossing the living room to where my mistress was seated, when she stopped them cold.

“Wait!” she said to both, raising a perfectly manicured finger in warning. Both men froze, confused.

“Nicolette!” and she clapped her hands.

“Yes Mistress?”

“Please start the fireplace, and bring us some wine.”

I walked to the fireplace and started it with a flick of a switch.

“Nicolette?”

“Yes Mistress?”

“Are you checking the cocks of my two men?”

“No Mistress… Yes Mistress.”

“Do you like cock Nicolette?”

“Yes Mistress.”

“I see you have learned the value of telling the truth. I like big cocks too. Nothing wrong with that. As long as you remember that these two cocks and all cocks in this house belong to me. Now, fetch us our wine.”

My mistress kept her bottles of wine in a controlled temperature cabinet in the kitchen. I took several bottles of red wine out, put them carefully on an oblong silver tray, added three goblets and several carefully folded napkins to the tray and walked back to the living room making sure that my back was straight and my heels clicked. By now both men had stripped naked. It was amazing how quickly men disrobed for my mistress.

What was even more impressive was the cocks of these two men. Mistress Angela was known for her appetite for well-endowed men, and these two were no exception. Javier’s cock was the color of butter pecan and thick and about nine to ten inches long, but it was Ken who was sporting a massive cock, a creamy bruiser easily eleven inches or longer with a cock-head the size of a peach.

“Wine, gentlemen?” asked Mistress Angela playfully.

As I carefully poured the wine in the elegant goblets Mistress Angela took off her skirt in one smooth motion, revealing her carefully trimmed bush.

“Drink your wine, boys,” she said playfully, “as I prepare myself for you.” And with that she slid one long finger into the folds of her sweetness, gently rubbing herself for all to see.

With her eyes closed Mistress Angela kept masturbating until she started moaning softly. The two men looked at her petite body with its exquisitely feminine lines, her perfect breasts softly shaking as she pushed her fingers deeper and deeper. How could they hold back at the sight of such perfection? Mistress Angela’s alabaster skin reflected the warm flames of the fireplace, her smooth legs and toned arms teasing and inviting, her black hair shimmering in glory. I almost felt bad for these two men, for having to wait this long. But I knew the drill, it was my mistress who was in charge.

“Nicolette!”

“Yes Mistress?”

“The candle tray!”

“Yes Mistress.”

I walked to Mistress Angela’s bedroom, noticing with immense pride that Javier was sneaking quick looks at my ponytail buttplug. I felt my heart rush, and my cock ache even stronger as it tried to struggle against the fiberglass restraints. Here was Javier with his immense meat, looking at my butt. He was finding me desirable. In a flash I imagined holding all that meat in my hand, stuffing it in my mouth, getting it wet and inserting it into my arsehole. And then the sharp pain of my cock straining against its cage brought me back to reality. It was time for the candle tray.

Mistress Angela’s bedroom, more beautiful and sumptuous than a Sultan’s quarters was where the ceremonial tray sat, the tray I had grown to both love and hate. It was a round copper tray, about forty inches in diameter, which I cleaned and polished every day. On this tray, every day without fail, I placed Mistress Angela’s favorite candles.

My mistress loved her candles, while masturbating, while taking a bath, while reading and while having sex. Mistress Angela believed that the mystical light of fifty or so different candles bathed everything in an erotic chiaroscuro that allowed her deepest desires to float upward and out, and helped her reach sexual peaks known to few women on earth.

I was allowed to carry this tray in one way and one way only: I had to put my arms under it and carry it everywhere like a precious and delicate baby. And so I did. By the time I had entered the living room I could see that Mistress Angela’s thighs were shimmering with her sacred vaginal juices.

“Nicolette!”

“Yes Mistress?”

“Light the candles!”

“Yes Mistress.”

To light the candles I had to use a long box of matches that was by the fireplace. Walking there and back I could be sure beyond doubt that Javier was looking at me.

My back was to the room while lighting to candles when I heard my mistress speak in a bemused tone.

“Javier”

“Yes Angela?”

“Are you checking out my slave? I did not know you liked sissies.”

“Well, er-, you know,” he stuttered.

“Please spit it out Javier! You know I have no time or patience for people who cannot articulate their sexual desires!”

“Well, he, she, whatever, is so hell-bent on looking like a woman that he is far more attractively and sexually dressed than most women. And the way he carries himself, walking like a woman and all, and that nice ass!”

“Yeah,” Ken joined, “I mean a hole is a hole. How about we spit roast her Javier? You fuck her mouth and I fuck her ass? Did you notice how expertly she is making that ponytail wave around suggestively? She is really pissing me off. We need to fuck this sissy dry, to teach this fuckhole a lesson, sashaying those hips around like a dirty slut. If she wants to be a slut then we need to treat her like one.”

“Boys, boys! Enough! You are so horny you are being dumb enough to think that I will let you have my sissy! He is mine! He belongs to me!”

She paused. I knew what was coming now.

“However, you are going to really enjoy what comes next.”

Mistress went quiet and both men, I could tell, tensed with anticipation.

“Nicolette!”

“Yes Mistress?”

“First, turn the lights off. Then, make sure these gentlemen are hard enough for me. But remember that if you get greedy and make either of them come, you will get one hundred lashes.”

“Yes Mistress.”

I used the remote to turn off the lights. The room was immediately bathed in the light of the candles and the flickering of the fireplace. Mistress Angela could not look any more divine or inviting even if she wanted to.

This was my moment, always, and I relished it. It was up to me, the sissy slut, to start the festivities. I took a few seconds to compose myself. Then I walked towards Javier slowly and deliberately, looking at his eyes. Javier was my first choice because my mouth would not contain Ken without stretching it first. Maintaining eye contact with him at all times I carefully got down on my knees in front of him.

“May I service you Sir?”

“Yeah bitch!” yelled Javier as he grabbed my hair.

“Javier!” yelled Mistress Angela.

“Yeah?” he answered sheepishly.

“If you touch my sissy again, you will never get to taste or fuck my mouth or my pussy or my ass ever!”

“OK. OK. Sorry.”

“Now my sissy is going to ask your permission to serve you, and you are going to say, ‘Yes, you may service me sissy!'”.

“OK. OK.”

“Nicolette!”

“Yes Mistress?”

“Start again!”

I waited two beats as I was trained to do.

“May I service you Sir?”

“Yes, you may service me, sissy!”

“Mistress Angela, may I service this man?”

My mistress paused as Javier’s heavy cock was pointing straight at my face. Oh how devious she is, and how well she knows my heart!

“I did not hear you Nicolette.”

“Mistress Angela, may I service this man?”

“Do you promise to do a good job, but not for long enough to make him come?”

“Yes Mistress.”

“Hands behind your back.”

“Yes Mistress.”

“You have my permission to service Javier’s cock.”

I clasped my hands behind my back and brought my head under Javier’s cock, using my face like a tray, to rest the full length of his cock on my mouth, nose and eyes. His testicles smelled of sandalwood, a delightful smell. I opened my mouth wide to accommodate both testicles and suck on them. His balls were taught and well trimmed, a joy to lick. But I had to control myself, otherwise Javier would come and woe unto me if that happened.

So I let go of his balls but not before giving them a few girly kisses. It was time for more. I started exploring his cock slowly with my lips and tongue, making sure I was maintaining eye contact with him throughout the ritual. Keeping my eyes fixed on his I took his cock-head in my mouth, gave it one or two quick sucks, and let it fall out. His cock was divinely heavy, a piece of meat that spoke of substance and strength. My life, I thought is so good, and with that I stuck my tongue in between Javier’s cock lips, digging it in as deep as possible, making wet sucking sounds.

“Oh oh!” he moaned and when he started thrusting his pelvis forward I immediately stopped. I have serviced enough cocks for Mistress Angela to recognize the signs of a man getting ready to lose himself in an orgasm.

“Nicolette!”

“Yes Mistress?”

“You little cock-sucking bitch! I think you are enjoying this too much. Meanwhile I’m waiting here for my two cocks.”

“Yes Mistress.”

“Now take care of the horse-cock over there, before he spooges all over himself.”

“Yes Mistress.”

I turned around, still on my knees, and before I could slide over Ken came over to me. Oh Ken, you beautiful divine Ken. His cock was like a small baby’s arm, cream-colored and fleshy. He too was circumcised, something I preferred for reasons of cleanliness. And clearly he did not share a shower with Javier because his cock smelled of aloe and lime. I locked my eyes into his and waited.

“Nicolette!”

“Yes Mistress?”

“What are you waiting for?”

“For your permission Mistress Angela.”

“How smart you have become! I see those welts on your butt are adding IQ points to your brain.”

She paused and I waited.

“Nicolette, you have my permission.”

I waited a single beat, but not a second more.

“May I service you Sir?”

“Yes, you may service me sissy!” said Ken looking at me, his eyes flooding with desire, despite himself.

“Mistress Angela, may I service this man?”

“Well yeah, you silly sissy! Just suck him off a bit, so that I can get these two cocks in me already!”

“Yes Mistress.”

I looked at Ken and then at his almost purple cock-head. He already had drops of precum dripping from his cock. If I would touch his cock-head he would burst and then I would be punished dearly. So, as much as I wanted Ken in my mouth, as much as I wanted to stretch my mouth wide enough to contain him, to prove to myself that I was a good sissy, an excellent sissy in fact, one that could handle any size of cock in his mouth, I opted for licking the top of part of his shaft.

“Oh yes,” he groaned as I licked all along his shaft, trying not to get cross-eyed while looking at it. No one likes a cross-eyed sissy.

“Suck me sissy bitch!” Ken yelled, “Open your fucking mouth and suck me! Now!”

I gave his cock-head a quick kiss and immediately pulled back.

“Good timing Nicolette!”

“Yes Mistress.”

“And now Nicolette, you will assume your position as the tray holder.”

“Yes Mistress.”

“You may stand up and assume your true duty.”

“Yes Mistress.”

I stood up, straightened my seams, and walked over to the coffee table where the copper tray with the lit candles was resting. I lifted it carefully and then holding my palms up I slid both my arms under it. Then I assumed my position by the right hand of the sofa, my back straight and my legs tightly together.

“Behold boys,” said Mistress Angela, “the tray holder. She will light the room for us while we enjoy ourselves. A true sissy slave, obedient and selfless.”

Mistress Angela paused, then she let out a warm, throaty giggle.

“Boys, it is time for you to fuck me.”

The two men, grunting like animals, leaped on the naked body of my beautiful mistress, my mistress whom I desire more than anything, and mercilessly plunged their huge cocks into her pussy and mouth. It was beyond doubt that these two men would invade every available orifice in Mistress Angela’s body multiple times before the night would be over.

Young men in their mid-twenties are capable of summoning erections as if by magic. The night went on and on and my mistress demanded to be fucked in every opening. I stood straight the whole night, never being allowed to rest, holding the tray of candles as my mistress surrendered herself to a Bacchanal of pleasure.

It was painful and exhilarating to watch Mistress Angela’s petite body handle so much sex, with both giant cocks stretching her pussy and arsehole as far as they would go. I watched her get penetrated deeply and with force in ways that only such magnificently large cocks could. My mistress was tireless, sucking one cock while jerking off another, taking one cock in her arsehole while another pounded her pussy.

At one point Javier was holding her upside down and eating her pussy while she was servicing Ken’s enormous cock. Bathed in the light of the fireplace and the sensuous flickering of the candles, the three beautiful bodies writhed with passion as they sweated, they came and came again and even peed on each other as they let nothing hold them back. And I the tray holder watched them as they freed themselves of all inhibitions and madly celebrated all their desires.

The long night eventually came to a close after both men plundered Mistress Angela’s pussy at the same time and then stretching her anus beyond credulity they shoved both their huge cocks in her tiny arsehole. That was when my mistress surrendered herself completely and her passionate grunts turned into savage growls and screams of passion. Insatiable as she was, her two lovers were equally resilient and kept thrusting their cocks into her like crazed jackhammers.

I had stood fast throughout the night, but the site of two cocks going in and out of my mistress’ arsehole proved to be too much for me and my poor caged cock just erupted, shooting out thick rivulets of five weeks worth of semen. I was lucky that my mistress was surrounded by a sea of animalistic grunts, and busy with these two very fit men who now were slapping her face with their giant cocks. She never heard my quiet whimpering of intense pleasure and relief as my lower body twitched with twisted passion and desire and emptied itself thoroughly and blissfully.

It was almost dawn when the strains on the agility and prowess of both men took its toll and they fell back on the living room carpet, exhausted and covered in sweat, no longer able to sustain their erections any further. In moments they were asleep. My mistress, looking at her two exhausted lovers with part bemusement and part contempt, tried to reach her goblet of wine, but the goblet fell, and all she could do was fall back on the sofa and laugh. Her face, mouth, breasts, stomach and hands and her two warm holes were dripping with semen.

“Nicolette!” she commanded in a hoarse voice, drunk with many bottles of wine and magnificent, exhausting sex.

“Yes Mistress?”

“Go get a sponge and a towel for me.”

“Yes Mistress.”

I dutifully brought what my mistress had asked for, and a small wash basin with warm water mixed with peppermint Castile soap. From what I have heard this is a favorite of mistresses around the world.

“Nicolette!”

“Yes Mistress?”

“Here is your prize for not screwing up during tonight – you may lick all the semen that these two virile men left all over my body. And then you may wash me gently.”

“Thank you Mistress, you are kind beyond words.”

“Is that all?”

“I will relish every drop of semen as if it is the tastiest chocolate syrup ever created.”

“Is that all?”

“You deserved every inch of cock these two men provided and every drop of semen they shot. No other woman could ever be worthy of such large, hard and magnificent cocks. I could never please you in this way, and I’m honored to have been in their presence while they pleasured you in such an extreme, beautiful and moving way.”

“Ah, a slutty slave who craves cock but knows her place. Very good. I have trained you well. You know what? You can suck their cocks clean too.”

And with that magnificent permission coming out of her trembling swollen lips, she fell into an exhausted sleep. I gathered the exhausted body of my beloved mistress in my arms, cradling her head and lifting her up carefully, and I laid her on the sofa in a more comfortable position.

This was my moment, my hour, my turn to serve the beautiful body of my precious and powerful mistress. I licked every drop of semen off her body, her pussy and her arsehole and then patted her gently with the wet sponge, making sure not to awaken her in the process.

A mistress awakened against her wishes will be invariably angry and recant the generous offerings she has made before falling asleep. I did not want my mistress to change her mind about the grandest and surprisingly benevolent permission she had given me in weeks, so I worked as if walking on eggshells. When my mistress was clean and semen free I covered her with a large soft white towel and left her to sleep on the couch.

As dawn’s very first rays of gray light peeked through the drapes, I was touched by the exhaustion of those who slept. Aware of the quiet room and the softness of early morning I felt a wave of tranquil contentment flow through me, bathing me clean down to my core. My caged cock spent and my soul at ease I relaxed and let go. I took my heels off, got on my knees and feasted on the giant cocks of Javier and Ken. They were hard no more, but they were covered in an intoxicating combination of the sweat and semen of both men and my mistress’ delicious juices.

First I rubbed their cocks all over my face, relishing their weight and strength, smelling their smells and enjoying the very texture and sweet detail of each cock. Then swallowing hard I took turns to deep throat both men. Javier, now soft, was relatively easier to gobble, but Ken was a tough sell despite the flaccid state of his enormous cock. He proved to be a challenge but ultimately not an insurmountable one.

There is no greater sense of achievement and no sweeter taste than feeling the tip of a big cock at the back of your throat early in the morning. It was while swallowing Ken’s soft monster and stroking Javier’s limp yet heavy cock, that I came again in big, thick, creamy spurts. Even though my mistress was asleep I scooped up my own semen and swallowed it greedily as she had trained me to do. If you are a good sissy, and you serve your mistress, you will have good nights such as these I thought to myself, better and more passionate nights than what most men can ever experience.

I got up, went to my bathroom, brushed my teeth, reapplied my lipstick, and straightened my seamed stockings. Then I pulled my ponytail buttplug out, cleaned it carefully, covered it with a fresh coating of Vaseline and reinserted it firmly into my snug hole.

Like any good sissy slave, once you get used to it you don’t want to let go of that bugger. Not to mention that it always reminds me to stand up straight and swing my hips like a woman, and that’s how I walked back into the living room. There, exhausted and as satisfied as I was allowed to be, I went to sleep at the safest, warmest place in the world, on the small Karastan carpet by the sofa, at Mistress Angela’s feet.

——————-

✤✤✤✤✤

11/21/12 Breaking News:  Slave N makes the paper!

Read about it in The Sissy News.

✤✤✤✤✤

——————-

Exclusive Erotic Quickie

Saturday, February 20th, 2010

Co-Education
by Jeremy Edwards

The supplementary co-ed bathroom at the far end of Janice’s dorm floor was the next best thing to a private hotel room. Phil loved slipping in there with Janice for late-night sex in the stall nearest the door–the stall that featured a bathtub instead of a toilet. They’d yet to be disturbed here.

"Mmm, your fingers feel so good," Janice said at 1 a.m. on a Thursday night, as Phil teased the slick lips of her pussy with his warm, soapy digits.

Suddenly, the bathroom door creaked open. And through the gap between the stall door’s hinges, Phil and Janice were able to see who had entered, catching a fleeting glimpse of her as she walked by: chestnut hair, a yummy midriff, and tight, round jeans.

"Oh, wow," said Phil in his lover’s ear. "It’s that hot chick from our French lit class." He and Janice had talked about her before. Janice liked hearing Phil talk about the women he found attractive.

As he spoke, they heard a stall door slam. Feet appeared in the cubicle next to them.

"Whoa–her jeans are down," Phil whispered. A moment later, as a pretty splashing noise reverberated off the tile walls, he continued: "Oh my god, she’s peeing."

"Duh, Phil," hissed Janice, her voice evidently holding back laughter.
"What did you think went on in here?"

"I know, I know . . . but, wow, without any pomp or circumstance . . ."

"You thought girls made a speech first?"

The lovely tinkling sound continued.

"It just seems too good to be true. That women come in here and they actually pull their pants down and piss, just like that. They really do it." Somehow a part of him had expected the world around him to fade to black rather than really showing him this.

"Phil, you goofball–it’s what she came in here to do."

"Oh, fuck, yeah. I know, I know," he repeated blissfully.

The peeing music finally abated, and the woman in the next stall sighed sexily. Then she giggled. "It sounds from the whispers like there are two of you in that tub," she called out. "I hope I didn’t disturb you."

"Not at all," groaned Phil, as Janice pulled firmly on his hard, hard cock.

________________________________________________________

If you’re a regular reader, you will remember my dear writer-friend Jeremy Edwards AKA Jerotic.  It’s been a while, but if you liked this charming bit of erotica … well, plug Jerotic or Jeremy Edwards into the search box and you’ll find him here and there along with THIS STORY.   Because I’ve been a fan since day one … and you should be too.  Sweetness and naughtingess and sexiness and kink and playfulness and seduction and — me oh my — how does somebody get it so right?  Every single time?

Like any self-respecting smut-provocateur Jeremy gets around, gleefully spreading the very good news that  "it’s good to be bad."  I don’t have to tell you that this is a philosophy I wholeheartedly embrace, now do I? And, apparently, so do lotsa goodly and smartly erotica writers and fans, ‘cuz their all jumping for joy wherever and whenever Jerotic shows up.  Just read what they have to say, why dontcha?

Best news of all?  Our dear and most appreciated Jerotic has published his first erotic novel, ROCK MY SOCKS OFF.  You can read more about this book and purchase it  HERE.  Go ahead, click that link; don’t be shy.

For up-to-the-minute news (announcements, links, & trivia re. All Things Jerotic), visit and bookmark From Socks To Fedora.  And stay tuned to this blog, because I intend to sweet-talk my most-cherished Jeremy out of many more hot stories for this blog.

xo, Angela

Doctor, Doctor, Give Me the Juice

Wednesday, October 28th, 2009

Doctor, Doctor, Give Me the Juice:  A Queerly Medical Fantasy

Doctor’s Visit

by Porno Person

My wife and I had been trying to get pregnant to no avail. I had grown up in a really toxic area and had the sinking feeling that my swimmers weren’t treading water.

I had been putting off this appointment for months. It’s not that I detest doctors or office visits; I simply can’t stand the whole "referral process" that requires me to see my regular doctor, knowing that he needs to send me to a specialist but has to set up on official referral. Such a crock. It’s a waste of my time, the doctor’s time, and everyone’s money.

I had expected a simple "jerk into a cup" kind of appointment with the specialist, Dr. Lan. What I got was something quite different.

We started with a series of questions. He wasn’t shy asking about how often I masturbate, the frequency of sex with my wife, and when both things had last occurred.

You would think that I would be fine admitting how frequently I jerk off but it still caught in my throat; the Catholic guilt runs deep. "Three times a week," I croaked and mentally added, "More, if I can." As for sex, after sixteen months of trying my wife seemed to put sex on indefinite hiatus. It had been two months since we’d last "engaged in copulation" (as the doctor put it).

He nodded to each of my responses and marked my chart.

His questions exhausted, I thought that now was the time for the cup and squirt. Far from it. He rolled his chair over next to the padded, paper-covered table on which I sat and cuffed my arm to take my blood pressure. I could smell his cologne, it was a nice counterpoint to the typical medical office odor.

He tore off the cuff when he was done and, like every doctor or nurse I’ve ever had, didn’t tell me the results.

And then began the part of the exam that I had never before experienced at a doctor’s office. He had me stand up and take off my shirt. While I did that he retrieved a tape measurer. He unspooled it and wrapped it around my chest with my arms down. Getting the number of inches he marked these on a chart next to a line drawing of a figure. He repeated the process around my stomach, around my shoulders, along one arm and then the other.

Initially I felt like I was being measured for a suit but quickly I found that Dr. Lan was being far more thorough in his assessment. Up and down my arm, even noting the length of my fingers.

He requested that I remove my pants as well and, once I was finished, he began unspooling the tape measurer down my legs, his fingers brushing under my buttocks.

He told me to turn around so he could do the same for the front. I was hesitant to do so as I found myself with the beginnings of a hard-on. I hoped that he wouldn’t notice, that he’d be too involved with my legs to not look at the bulge in my underpants.

All the way up and down my legs he worked, the warmth of his hands a welcome presence in the cool of the examination room. He knelt down as he took his myriad measurements, his head even with my crotch. Though I tried not to, it was then that I started thinking about Dr. Lan in sexual terms.

When standing he was a half a head taller than me. Handsome, with an strikingly handsome face. Far thinner than me, he was still muscular and, noting that his white coat was opened, I wondered what he might look like naked. I tried to shake these thoughts from my head as they continued to make my erection more prevalent.

Dr. Lan had me turn around again and walk across the room to watch the way my hips worked, checking for any kind of dysplasia. I caught my reflection in one of the many mirrored surfaces of the room, feeling ridiculous stripped down to my whity-tighties tented out with a hard-on. Worse, after walking away from him I had to walk back, I could feel my dick bobbing in my underpants and hoped that he didn’t notice it.

If he did, there was no reaction. Instead, he asked me to repeat my walk a few times before he had me walk in place. While I did so, he put his hands on my hips, pushing his fingers along my joints. Finally he let me stop and marked more notations on my chart. I tried to spy what all he was writing but couldn’t make heads or tails of it. He got back up and, putting down his pen, donned a pair of rubber gloves.

"I need you to remove your underwear," he said. I felt my heart jump. As I lowered my underpants I half-expected to hear a cartoon sound effect, "Sproing!"

My "one-eyed snake" stared Dr. Lan in the face. Ignoring it, he reached underneath and grabbed onto my testicles. "Turn to the right and cough," he instructed. His hand felt wonderful on my balls. I wanted him to tug on them. I coughed for him and he had me repeat this a few times.

"I’m going to take your temperature," he said, getting up and going to his cabinet. I sat on the exam table, the paper crinkling under my ass. As he returned with a thermometer he said, "I prefer to do it rectally."

I shrugged and got off of the table to turn around for him. "Reach back and spread your cheeks for me," he said. As I did I felt the cool of lubrication being applied to my sphincter. This gentle rubbing was all too quickly interrupted by the intrusion of the thermometer sliding inside of me. I stood there in this awkward position, my erection pressed between my body and the exam table and my hand spreading my ass cheeks for what seemed like an eternity, all the while one of his hands rested on my lower back.

His watch beeped and he took out the thermometer. He read it and put it aside before he began sliding his fingers gently inside of me. He slid them in deep until he began gently prodding my prostate gland. My cock jumped at his touch.

His fingers seemed to linger longer than maybe they should have as they continued to press against my prostate. I felt a tingle in my loins, the kind that comes with urination or orgasm, that "loss of control" sensation. I tried my best to resist it.

"Very good," he said, removing his gloves with a snap behind me.

"Please get up on the table," he instructed as he disposed of his gloves and donned a new pair.

I lay back on the table, my legs hanging off the edge and my cock waving.

Standing next to me, Dr. Lan looked down, a small white plastic cup in his hand, and said, "I need a sample of your sperm so I can test the motility. There are a few ways we can do this; you can manipulate yourself, I can give you a prostate massage, or I can give a prostate massage and manipulate you at the same time."

I gulped and wondered if he could be serious about his offer. Rather than repeating what he said I merely indicated, "The last one, please."

"In that case, I’d prefer if you kept your eyes closed." He reached into a drawer underneath the exam table and brought out some gauze. He unrolled a bit and placed it over my eyes. I lifted my head and he began wrapping the gauze around it until he was satisfied that I couldn’t see. I could still make out shapes and shadows but only through a white curtain.

After adding some more lubrication to his gloves, Dr. Lan reached down between my legs and to insert a finger inside of me again. This time he found my prostate immediately and began rubbing it softly. Meanwhile, he wrapped the fingers of his other hand around my cock and began stroking me. His firm, sure grasp made me moan before I could even realize what I was doing.

I could hear the sound of lubrication squelching in my bottom as he began moving his finger in and out of me in time with his hand pumping my cock. It felt so good as he expertly jerked my cock.

"What do you usually think about when you masturbate?" he asked me. The question startled and embarrassed me. Moreover, it perplexed me. Did he want the truth or did he want to hear something that would please him? What would make him happiest to hear? Why was he asking? Was this turning him on too? Did he want to know so that he could fulfill my turn-on?

These questions flew through my mind while my mouth quietly uttered, "Sucking cock."

Again, I couldn’t believe that I had admitted this to anyone, much less this stoic physician. My body seemed to be in revolt. I wasn’t saying or doing what I thought was right, only what, apparently, was necessary. This became completely evident as I reached my hand out to where I thought the front of his slacks should be.

I found his cock tenting his pants and gently rubbed my palm against it. He felt huge and rock hard. I hoped that I wasn’t stroking his otoscope. His reaction made it clear that I wasn’t. He pushed himself against my hand and I felt the wonderful upward curve of his cock filling my fingers.

"Would it make it easier to ejaculate if you were holding that?" he asked.

"Yes, Doctor."

He stopped stroking me and I heard the sound of his belt and zipper being undone, his pants falling to the floor with a jangle of keys and change. He put his hand back on me and I reached again for his cock, fumbling in the dark until my fingers found him and wrapped around him.

His cock felt wonderful, so hot and hard. I could feel the tendrils of pubic hair as my fist went down his length and the dribble of precum as I moved back up him again. I licked my lips and began jerking his cock in time with the way he stroked mine. "Tighter," he said. I obliged, tightening my grip on his manhood. He groaned in appreciation and I squeezed even more, so tight that it was difficult to stroke him completely. He helped by pumping his cock into my fist.

His cock was like a living relief map. I could feel the veins throbbing in my hand. He groaned again, I looked up at his face, trying to gauge his reaction but was unable to see anything but a blurry shadow through the gauze.

He plunged his fingers in deeper inside of me and I knew that I was going to cum soon. I felt him pushing me farther along, taking me to that place I love to go. Needing him there with me, I pumped him harder, faster.

His manipulation put me over the edge. I felt hot drops of spunk landing on my stomach. They were quickly joined by more on my chest as Dr. Lan began cumming. My hand was wrapped around him so tightly that I could feel the cum moving under my thumb as he drained himself onto me.

I didn’t want to take my hand off of him. I wanted more of him. I could feel his pulse pounding in my hand. He slowly removed his fingers from inside of me and took his hand off my cock. I did the same for him. He ran the plastic cup along my belly, collecting some of my ejaculate.

"That should be enough for testing," he said, the zip of his pants loud in my ear. "Though, we may need to take another sample if the lab can’t process this."

I felt him wiping me off with a wet towel, cleaning himself off of me, before he cut away the gauze over my eyes. I felt like proclaiming, "I can see!" but ruled that a little melodramatic. By the time I sat up on the table he looked as if nothing had happened.

He made one more mark on my chart before off-handedly saying that I’d have my results back in two weeks and to make a follow-up appointment at the front desk before leaving me to re-dress alone in the exam room. I made my appointment and knew I wouldn’t mind spending the money on my co-pay the next time I came around.

__________________________________

Ah, Porno Person.  He’s such a kinky guy and I simply adore him for it.  The man’s mind is a wicked, wicked place and perpetually in hyper-drive. 

Lucky for us.

Visit Porno Person’s blog, Prurient Interests, to be inspired, shocked, amazed and feel the overwhelming urge to masturbate furiously.