Sabrina in Stockings smartass switch sex worker

Sorry boys, no cam tonight - I’m putting together two new photo sets. One is a huge custom set for one of my favorite cam clients, and the other is the abridged version I’ll be making available to all of you on Niteflirt this month.

He’s so addicted to my photo sets he orders a new one after almost every cam show. I wonder what’s going to happen when he figures out I also do custom tease video…

Last night I teased him with my sheer lace bra, upskirt peeks in my office chair, and ground my ass at him until he came - I moved like I was fucking the air, all while my sensual voice was whispering in his ear that he would never be lucky enough to bury his face in my ass and lick it, let alone fuck me… After he savored the privilege of orgasming while looking at my smooth round ass he asked if I’d be open to modeling some of the outfits in my closet.

I’ll be changing off-cam, of course. It’s fun to be wicked. He might get a peek of stockinged foot, or the glimpse of my hips wiggling into a little satin slip… ha!

One poor stroker spent the night on the phone telling me about how his ex-girlfriend expected him to go down on her but never returned the favor, never had sex with him, only teased him in public, got him hard and taunted him into masturbating later with her worn panties.

This went on for a year.

Sometimes when he was lucky she’d stroke him - lightly, just to tease - or use some Astroglide and let him hump her still fist.

She was fucking her previous ex, of course. He knew about it… knew he was pussy whipped, but the frustration, the humiliation, and the sexuality kept just out of reach, only close enough to brush up against him and tease his cock, had him hooked.

Men are so simple.

He humped his fist for me on cam, came in a glass, and drank his cum. The look on his face was priceless.

I should send him a photo of my worn panties… taunt him further with all he could have had, if he wasn’t a cuckold stroker.

…

I’ve got nylons on my mind - it’s time to restock my lingerie drawer, especially after sacrificing so many stockings and panties to a good cause. Maybe you’ve got some suggestions for me? I could tell you about the different lingerie sets and stockings I’m planning on buying, and if you’re very lucky, what I’ll be doing with them.

Lingerie and Stocking Fetish Phone Sex

$1.99/min

Speaking of good causes I just sent the lovely Blue Eyed Vixen my submission for next week’s Tits for Troops. You’ll see my cheesecake contribution this Tuesday.

I’ve been craving an excuse to gag some poor stroker with my worn backseam stockings. Maybe I’ll make some nylon fetish recordings over the weekend. Or write a story to post here.

Think you can handle both?

I’ll be on webcam again tonight, probably from 10pm - 2am EST. You lucky bastard. Til then you can catch me on the phones (new Niteflirt callers get 3 free minutes):

Flirty Cocktease - Sensual Phone Domination

$1.99/min

Some of you have written to ask just what goes on in a TeaseCam session.

We’ll start by throwing your expectations out the window.

This is not about me stripping down as quickly as possible, shoving the largest available toy into my twat, and oohing and aahing as you masturbate furiously to a grainy, discolored cam feed.

This is not about me fake-baking, squeezing into an itty bitty rhinestone thong and a pair of designer jeans, giggling and calling you the “loser loser loser” to my princess.

Kudos to the camgirls who can pull that off. I’m pale and I can’t stand wearing jeans - but I do love clothes, and taking my time getting into - and out of - them.

Also I am neither an 18 year old coed nor a MILF. I know I look ambiguous, and I have fun roleplaying either older or younger, but I’m 24. That out of the way - of course we can pretend otherwise. Because this is all about leaving something to the imagination.

In my world your orgasm is never guaranteed. My fun at your expense always is.

I love fetishes. I have them. A lot of them. This makes it very easy to understand how simple it is to use your fetish against you.

I understand how weak you feel when you see a perfectly wrinkled sole… a thick black satin garter strap snapped tight against a bare thigh… when you feel the faint silken rasp of nylon drawn over your skin. The textures. The smells. The ache of frustration… the sensuality of satin…

I look inward, into what my fetishes do to me, and outward, observing what they do to you. Only in this instance it’s very like a cat watching a mouse. Sometimes you can even imagine the tail twitching.

Fetishes are beautiful irrational turn-ons and that makes them such gratifying buttons to push.

You’d love for me to push your button, wouldn’t you? Over and over…

In a cam session, I tease and frustrate and manipulate you with the tools at my disposal: my face, my voice, my body, my wardrobe, and your weakness for my sweet sensual sadism.

That can mean verbal humiliation. That can mean CFNM, directed masturbation, roleplays. That can mean driving you crazy with my stocking covered legs and feet while I sweet-talk you out of your money (nylon fetish and financial domination). Or we can get into a good old-fashioned slow striptease. Emphasis on the tease. And the begging. (Yours.)

It’s not important how it happens. In the end I am going to make you squirm.

I enjoy hearing your session ideas or working something out on the fly. Don’t expect to see me totally naked. Do expect to see me smiling - and maybe hear me laughing a little at your expense.

I was feeling particularly inspired (or wicked) one morning and decided to make an off-the-cuff humiliation and comparison video (see end of post). Yes, that is my tree in the background and yes it is decorated with blue balls…

When I first got into domination it was on a strictly personal level with a long-term submissive. I didn’t understand small penis humiliation and felt that men with small penises should be encouraged to consider their other strong points in bed, such as giving good oral. I firmly believed men’s obsession with penis size was ridiculous and in no way based on reality.

Three things happened to change this:

1. One of my submissives had a very small penis. I worked around this, I was patient, I was supportive, I was licked from dawn til sunset. But if I ever tried to ride I couldn’t move or it would fall out. Condoms slid off. They were baggy. And he was a premature ejaculator. After a while I just had to find other ways to amuse myself with it. Mmm… Did I mention he was a masochist?

2. I finally started to understand erotic humiliation, and how it could be erotic, for both the giver and the receiver. I could never experience it as erotic to give until I understood what it was like to enjoy it from the other end.* I had to experience it myself a few times - and find it intriguing.

* I say never but there were times when my sadism took hold and I played rough. That said there was always hesitation and remorse until I understood it from both ends.

3. I finally gave it, gave it and enjoyed every minute of it. Over and over. Until the fading shame of cutting another person’s ego down was replaced with the secret thrill of exposing his weaknesses and leaving him raw and vulnerable… of loving to make him squirm. The penis is the center of a man’s ego, after all. I saw it as an intersection of verbal sadism, male exhibitionism, submissive shame, and the kink of being inspected and judged. I’m into CFNM (oh, who wouldn’t be? Who wouldn’t want a harem of sexy naked men on display for their amusement?) and after understanding small penis honesty from that angle it all started to click.

And the good people at LoveHoney sent me this satin smooth Inch Perfect vibrator, and it’s got a ruler on the side, in both inches and millimeters (some of you really need every bit you can coax out of a ruler, it seems). And I took one look at it and knew it would be the perfect tool to break these men. A femdom vibrator - I never thought I’d see that dream come true. Imagine the CFNM party applications… Actually I’m going to write that story now.

After all the hassle of dealing with an actual micropenis (see #1) I’ve moved on to bigger and better things. My man has something even the Inch Perfect lacks - skill, stamina, flexibility and a breathtakingly perfect G-spot hitting curve. (Actually he’s thicker too but I don’t want to swell his ego too much here. He does read this sometimes.)

NEW! Small Penis Honesty video - Ready to hear the truth about your undersized equipment? See how your little q-tip dick measures up against my 8″ vibrator. 14 minutes of crystal clear visual and verbal humiliation. (.WMV format, will convert on request)

I hope you all had a very happy holiday season and rang in the new year with lots of kisses and good alcohol (if you imbibe - and if not, then I assume you lost your inhibitions some other way). I’ve ridden the holiday party circuit until my legs got tired. It’s good to be back home with my charming perverts.

On New Year’s eve, 2007, I did shots of absinthe. Undiluted, unmixed, no sugar, no water. It was interesting… I didn’t need a chaser, but it did make me pause before going for the drops left at the bottom of the shot glass. I felt like I’d finally found my sparring partner.

I’m now terrified of what would happen if I ever let myself drink it, actually drink it instead of just sample. I wonder which would give first, the bottle or my liver.

If you haven’t had it before I’ll warn you: absinthe tastes like licorice, only greener and marinated in strong booze. I tried it prepared in the traditional style first and frankly I’d rather shoot it. Less classy, sure. Less pretentious, perhaps. Less like sucking off an alcoholic Twizzler, certainly…

I woke up with a kiss from the green fairy on my lips. Stained green - she’s an interesting gal.

…

In other, completely unrelated news both of my tease photo sets are on sale until Valentine’s Day (Feb. 14th). These photos are the real deal, shot by yours truly with my digital camcorder in classic amateur style (iffy lighting). This is a limited time sale and my photos are exclusive to Niteflirt. Membership is free and if you’re new, you get three free minutes to use on live calls or phone sex recordings.

See my amateur tease pics - I pose for you in a satin button-front nightshirt and black bra, teasing you by keeping the full view hidden. 25 quality softcore pics of me working the sexy girlfriend angle. (reduced from $25)

Nylon and high heels shoe tease show - I tease you in my black nylons and grey stiletto pumps - arching my feet, sliding my stockinged heel out of my shoe, and running my hand down my smooth legs. 6 nylon and shoe fetish photos, by caller request. (reduced from $18)

Happy New Year.

I was up late last night putting the finishing touches on a custom downblouse/upskirt tease photo set. (Another hard night at work for yours truly.)

Here’s a sneak peek at the results. The rest are for his eyes only. Exclusivity has its benefits…

He requested that I start out in a short skirt and a lowcut or button-front shirt, taking my panties off and leaving the skirt on for a flash of my bare ass and pussy… He loves silky fullback panties as much as I do, and I had a pair of baby pink-and-sheer striped fullback panties that flaunt my round ass nicely.

I wore my black leather high heel mary janes and a soft fuzzy black zip-up sweater (I like to think of it as “easy access”). I let the matching feminine pink bra stay on for a while, unzipping my sweater and leaning forward enough to let the upper edge of my bra peek out beneath my cleavage.

The bra came off before the sweater did. I played it coy, unzipping my sweater nearly to my waist and then covering my bare breasts with my arms before letting him glimpse one hard pink nipple. The soft fabric of the sweater rubbing against my nipples felt delicious and sensual… I had no problem getting in the mood for this shoot.

My tease callers know I like to tease and deny for a long time before I consider granting permission to come—and for those that hold out long enough, that beg desperately enough, that let me hear the ache in their voices that gives me conviction that they’re nearly over the edge with want—I’ll grant that permission, and throw in something else he wasn’t expecting. I always stop short of what they want most of all but sometimes throwing a thoroughly blue-balled guy an extra crumb of what he craves is all it takes to keep him coming back for more cockteasing “abuse.”

For this sweet repeat client, I threw in that crumb, and pushed this set from teasing to “Did I just see—?”

Yes. Yes, he did.

And did it work?

His response contained more all-caps words and exclamation points than I’ve seen since avoiding Myspace. This isn’t his usual way of writing. And he wants to see me on cam—soon.

So: Yes.

Happy Half-Nekkid Thursday!

I’ve got my toes buried in the sand at Cape Cod. The pedicure’s fresh (a recent birthday present from a thoughtful submissive). I’m stretched out absorbing the sun and sky, and taking calls on Niteflirt…

My cell rings, and when the polite femmebot voice on the other line says just the words I want to hear, I smile:

“You’ve received a call for your listing in Women > Fantasy > Other. The rate for this call will be 2.99 per minute.”

It’s my orgasm control line - no, let’s be honest; my orgasm denial line. I’ll make this line available often even when I’m not taking calls because this isn’t work, this is fun. It cuts right to the chase: he needs to come, he’s on the edge, and what happens next is completely in my hands.

“Hel-lo, this is Sabrina…” I can’t keep the smile out of my voice. Sometimes I’ll laugh to myself, and they’ll ask me why I’m laughing.

This is where I get my kicks. Silly boy.

He’s already on edge. It’s in the tension behind his words, the breaths, the pauses. On edge, his voice slips into a different register. His throat’s tighter. His pacing is staccato –

That’s what I love to listen for; that shift when they need it badly. I like to hear the urgency. That’s why I’ll draw them out, wait until they have to come.

I like to hear them beg.

No - I insist it of them. The hesitant ones aren’t ready to come yet. They don’t need it badly enough. The desperate ones, if they beg pretty, sometimes I’ll let earn an orgasm.

If they want me to make them stroke, I let them stroke. Eventually. If they want me to make them earn each stroke I’ll make them stroke til they need me to let them stop. Denial within denial - why not? A pleasure prolonged is a pleasure enhanced. A pleasure forced and twisted is a deviant’s treat I’m serving up on the beach, in semipublic…

And he’s needing to stop soon, or come. And I remind him that he’d better not come without my permission. He won’t? Good… Even though he needs to so badly? That’s right. That’s exactly right.

“So how badly do you need to come? You’d better convince me, if you want me to let you come.” I like to hold out hope. I might let him come - if he earns it, if he’s good, if he’s lucky. Sometimes I do let them come, and they thank me. Sometimes I don’t and they thank me and curse me together, both equally heartfelt.

He’s begging for me, and it’s good - I’m riding that high - but not good enough.

I push my ridiculous glamourpuss sunglasses down over my eyes.

“No.” I’m laughing, and my friends are looking over at me; they’ll figure out what’s going on in a minute. “I just don’t think you want to come that badly.” (And I hear him moaning oh please Mistress I need it so badly, please, can’t I just come for you…)

“You know, I’m getting more out of it this way than if you actually came.” Brutal honesty. “Your begging amuses me… whereas if you come, it’s really just a sticky mess, over in a few seconds. And doesn’t it feel good to stroke? Why would you want to stop just so you can be allowed to come?”

I love the semi-logic. He’s still trying to convince me, he know it’s too late. He just wants to keep stroking a few more seconds. He’s waiting for my final word.

“No. ”

“Take your hands off my cock; you’re not allowed to come today.”

I’m laughing, and he’s saying thank you, Mistress, and fighting his way back from the edge so he doesn’t disobey and come without my permission. I tell him to try his luck again next time. I might be in a more generous mood.

Two very blue balls in ten minutes and I keep telling myself I’m on vacation. From what exactly?

We head out for drinks and seafood. I keep the phone on.

(I’ve been traveling off and on throughout the summer. If you’d like to catch me, add my orgasm permission line to your favorites on your Niteflirt account, or dial 1-800-TO-FLIRT, extension 01781456. Or send me an email - don’t be a stranger. It’s sabrinamorgan at gmail dot com, of course.)

Black stockings, my first pair. Lace band hold-ups with just a hint of a reinforced toe. I got them from Victoria’s Secret when I was seventeen.

These stockings have been wrapped around the waist of a very handsome man recently. But not recently enough - I think I’ll be breaking in a new pair this weekend.

A lipstick-red bra with black lace and embroidered accents on sheer red mesh that doesn’t come off quickly enough for some people… ha.

Matching panties, bikinis, embroidered over my freshly trimmed mound and sheer in the back.

They’re still wet from earlier, mostly on my side. Mostly. I straddled his cock while we kissed, and wet my fingers, and rubbed the head of his cock against my clit through the mesh.

I’ve been pacing my room and listening to the click, click of my new favorite heels on the floor just because I like the sound. There’s a sense of feminine power in that soft echo and it gets me in the mood to take calls. Care to join me?

Spur-of-the-moment shoe and nylon fetish pic, by request.

I went and got a full time - well, it was supposed to be part time - mainstream job so that I’d have something legit to answer when people asked me “So what do you do?”

It’s funny, because I was trying to avoid having the “Yes, I tell strange men how to stroke it over the phone” conversation with some new friends. Instead I’m finding I get very strange looks from my peers when I introduce myself as… a salesperson.

Go figure.

So this girl on Salon.com was asking whether or not she should do fetish videos. And the other vagaries of her letter aside, I found myself thinking (again - you do this constantly as a sex workaholic) about the social ramifications of my sex work. (My bank account is telling me I need to spend less time thinking and more time phone boning. My logic is telling me if I’d written this 24 hours ago I could’ve made the deadline for the next Black Heart Magazine.)

I wrote her a response, and it got me thinking:

This is high-intensity work; don’t be mistaken. If you’d shy away from nursing, counseling, or police work then you might want to think again. Sex work is rewarding, and not only financially, but it is demanding. It’s emotionally draining, financially uncertain, socially unacceptable, and very hard to explain to your friends, family, and significant others. Don’t fall into it if your heart’s not in it. It won’t be worth it for you.

If the money’s the only reward for you then it won’t be enough to compensate. If money’s not the only reward for you then all those hurdles might not be enough to hold you back.

(Read the rest of my response here.)

For me, the rewards outweigh the issues. There are issues; I can’t deny that. It’s hard to deny that if I asked 20 strangers about my job, 15 of them would assume I’d been abused.

My mother was abused. That’s why she’s a consultant.

My sister was abused. That’s why she’s a college student.

My best friend from high school was abused. That’s why she’s an editor.

I’d say a third of the women in my straight workplace have been abused - that I know of. I don’t know what the numbers are for sex work, but the numbers for mainstream are pretty staggering.

Of those 20, two would assume I’m a nympho.

Sex work, for me, is a sexual outlet. I’ll admit it. I’ve had to come to terms with the idea that I can either have my every last little sexual whim sated, or I can date someone I find fascinating in and out of bed rather than merely keep a stable of exhausted human dildos. I’ll take quality over quantity any day.

(Not that my current human dildo doesn’t blow my mind make me come like a fiend sate my sexual whims. I think my archives will attest to that. But he does require food, sunlight, and sleep from time to time. Which works out - if I had free access to his cock I’d never get anything done.)

I have to do something with this excess energy, so I use it against the perverts of this world. This keeps me out of trouble, keeps my sweetie in nice dinners, and keeps the perverts happy. It’s a win-win.

Of the remaining three individuals, two would think I’m going to Hell and one would think I’m awesome.

Three of these 20 would, after knowing me for a while, decide it’s just a job, albeit a weird one, and they don’t really care so long as I’m fine.

Good for them.

I love to show you just what you’re missing.

I straddle you in your chair, throw my bare legs over your thighs and around your hips. The satin slides against the fabric of your pants and I almost slip off - I press my hips down and forward, a quick thrust into your swelling cock, half-innocent and accidental.

My fingers brush the skin at the back of your neck and trace a lazy trail up and down before twisting to rub your scalp right there at the back of your skull. Your head tilts back reflexively; you can’t help yourself.

That’s when I lean forward and kiss along your jawline… slow hungry pressings of soft lips and hot breath with just the barest hint of tongue. Something about wearing satin makes me feel langorous and sensual and I take my time devouring you. One soft suck at your earlobe and I whisper:

“Touch my breasts… squeeze them through the satin. I want to feel your hands on me while I kiss you.”

My little black panties are thin and I’m making sure you feel it, rubbing my slit against the bulge in your pants, pressing your cockhead right into the wettest spot. I grind my hips in a circle, in a dance, and run my hands through my long red hair, and flash you a teasing smile.

“No hands, now. Keep them at your sides.”

I use my right hand to grip the back of the chair and hold myself steady… conveniently pressing my breasts right into your face. My left hand unbuttons the top button of my satin pajama top, then the second, then the third. I let it fall open and my hand slides on down.

I want to write about it, but it all blurs together in my mind. I need to write about it - at least in private - to keep each time separate.

I like to remember.

Right now it’s like this:

Tonight I just went back to the first place he gave me an orgasm.

…Kissing in the kitchen - all over the kitchen, up on the counter, bent against the stove. I was bent over against the table and I don’t know if his hand was down the front of my pink capris or over them but I remember thinking they could all hear me from the next room, even though I bit my lip…

…And he just lay on top of me, and kissed and kissed me until I came…

…That was the first time anyone had ever facefucked me. I mean, grabbed my hair and just used my mouth. And I liked it. The next time he stroked my hair and told me how beautiful I looked like that (on my knees, licking the underside of his shaft) and I believed him.

…When I saw the lightning, I looked over, sure it was a camera flash and we were caught with our pants around our ankles, in the woods, with me bent over presenting my ass to him. Oh my God, I twined my fingers in the grass and clutched at the earth and the thunder sounded, and the lightning crackled overhead, and I know the earth didn’t move but we were shaking and sweating and I fell forward and all I could think was I’m not drunk, I’m not drunk, I’m holding onto a blade of grass and I haven’t fallen off the earth. The rain didn’t start until we were clothed and out of the woods…

…He holds me down and spanks with his whole arm. Mmh. And waits for me to safeword, no matter how I squirm.

I told him I liked leather. I like to smell it, touch it - I just love the way it looks. He put on a leather jacket, leather pants, leather boots, a leather belt, and a skintight spandex shirt. All black. I creamed my panties right there and I was so obviously in his thrall… He looked over his shoulder at me and said, “You can call me Master now, if you want.” So I did.

I wore a little red plaid skirt and fuck-me boots up to there. And he did. Up to there. In the backseat. Pray for us sinners now, indeed.

…”Have you ever done it on your computer before?” Clearly cybersex doesn’t count. Neither does masturbating to internet porn. Neither do naked pictures, or recording orgasms… So, no. And damn.

“We’re running out of places to have sex in this town. Soon, it’ll be like, ‘Oh, look, it’s yet another place we’ve done it in _______.’”

…Can’t keep his hands off me long enough for me to install this damn case fan. Curses! Another screw lost. Can’t… fumble for screw… Hands on clit… clit on fire… Oh holy gods what is he DOING?…

…He bound my wrists together above my head with the pantyhose. Brand new pair. Silky, tan, reinforced toe. The nylon tightened around my wrists, and he gagged me with my own lace panties… He took the gag out of my mouth once. “How many times did you come?” “I… I don’t know?” “Wrong answer.” Then his fingers slammed into me and oh. my. GOD. My panties were filling my mouth and the lace scratching on my tongue kept me here holding on for half a second before I was just gone.

…Exhilirating, that’s what this has been. A fucking mental rollercoaster ride, but not in the moody sense. I love it.

This time he let me, or rather I did, well…

He was in the chair and I was tugging at his hair and kissing him slow and I decided to have some fun, so I did, and he got sort of still and passive and receptive and I think this boy could really dig on a little T&D.

Also being bitten and manhandled makes him twitch down low and YUM.

That’s promising.

Goosebumps on his neck when I kissed it, and held his hair back, tugging his head back, running my teeth along his neck, and he liked the vulnerability, he didn’t have to say a word. My tongue licking right where his pulse was, the goosebumps when I ran a nail down the side of his neck slowly, the little moans when I just straddled his thighs, fully clothed the both of us, and didn’t touch anything below his collarbone except his arms and back, but touched everything above his collarbone with fingers and lips and teeth and tongue.

I swear we went into a trance when we kissed. It was very sensual and still and sacramental…

…Bent over doggystyle on his bed and I can’t walk right for a week after, he’s pounding me so hard, and it’s worth every limping step…

And there are so many times he’s just gone to town on me, and I’ve become nothing more than a bundle of oversensitized nerve endings and jumbled rushing feelings, and I’ll just lie there with my arms bound above my head and twitch, and rise up toward his touch, and whimper, and moan, and scream into the gag because it’s all I can do, just respond, as he overwhelms my body with sensations of warm breath and wet lips and strong hands and thick cock…

There you have it, chronological order be damned. The juiciest parts, of course, I’ll keep to myself. I’m not going to regale you with every saucy detail - he likes his privacy and my face is attached to these posts. I’m just going to start keeping a private journal, so that my private life can inspire my public fiction. And vice versa.