Sabrina in Stockings smartass switch sex worker

I’m back from my trip out of town. Did you miss me last weekend?

Sorry… I was busy getting my tease on. You guys make it too easy sometimes and I just can’t resist taking full advantage. A little flirting and men become physically, mentally, and financially weak.

Nowhere was this more evident than at the strip club. The South is known for ladies with big smiles and long tanned legs… women who know how to work a man. The real show wasn’t the gyration on the couches but in the subtleties: the blonde with the knee-high black boots who moved like a snake, the vixen who dragged her chestnut hair over Mr. Aging Jock’s torso, knelt, and smiled up at him so sweetly before taking his money. Hands at his sides - no touching. These men were paying for nothing but a well-executed tease, knowing they wouldn’t be allowed to place their hands on one inch of tanned skin, knowing the only satisfaction they’d get would be at their own hands, hours later, thinking back on the way she’d moved as she straddled his thighs.

It was inspiring.

I’ve talked about strip clubs before with one of my favorite callers and he was quick to admit that the highlight of his experience was the dynamic of the tease, that undercurrent of control. She had it; he didn’t. Money did not equal power, except in that he was surrendering both. He knew he wasn’t supposed to come; if he came it would probably be prematurely. And she would know, and laugh.

I’ll be back on the phones tonight. Lap dance anyone?

“Do you like to deny different people for different reasons?”

“Yes. I like denying you because you’re a Mac person.”

-from a conversation with a very special caller on my philosophy of tease and denial

I got this message on my Yahoo! 360° page from an older man with a nice chest:

Hmmmm if it is all about the tease….tease me

Now if I were devious, I’d have written back a one-liner; maybe:

Consider yourself teased.

Or if I was in the mood for subtlety,

Okay

followed by… nothing.

I am devious but I took it a step farther.

Private response? No. Too intimate - and I’d miss the opportunity to make all the other guys jealous. After all I am there to promote myself as well as chat. I’m a flirt, but I’m also a capitalist.

Tease you? Ha - I would, but I was about to log off and take a long shower. After that I’ve got a new pink satin slip to try on… too bad you can’t see it.

It’s short and sweet and oh-so-silky and I’m taking new slip pictures this week. I’d have done it sooner but I was having corset sex, and that’s pretty high on my list of priorities.

So you’ll get to see it. And so will Shirtless Guy, if he finds my blog link.

Earlier this week fellow Masturbatrix Ally of CockControl and I sat down to discuss the different flavors of tease and denial, why we love the wankers, and the big question: as a sensual phone domme rather than a vanilla phone sex operator, do I masturbate on calls?

You can read my interview, and the others, here.

Ally’s previously interviewed several lights in the masturbation community on topics ranging from guided masturbation to stroking techniques. She’s a gem and you’d be remiss not to check out her newest (and recently Fleshbotted!) site.

If you’re just finding me from the interview, welcome to my blog. You might be especially interested in my tease and denial erotica, personal masturbation experiences, or phone sex blog posts.

Interested in something more than words? Listen to my stocking tease mp3, view my topless nylon tease video clip, or call me live on Niteflirt for something more personal. If you tell me where you found me when you call, you’ll get a surprise.

Most of you know one of my favorite kinks is tease and denial/orgasm control/directed masturbation. There’s nothing more fun than hearing a man - or woman - pleading to come.

I’ve got a new Niteflirt line set up now just for quickie tease and denial calls: it’s an orgasm permission line. You call up, I decide whether or not you get to come and maybe tell you how to finish off… Sound fun?

Write the extension down (1-800-TO-FLIRT, extension 01781456) and keep it with you. I’ve got extended availability on this line for all you guys that just can’t help but start without me.

Girls, you can play too if you wanna. It’s fun.

New Niteflirt callers get 3 free minutes. New callers to me get to find out why my previous callers said all these kind things.

For even more shameless self-promotion, visit my MySpace page (myspace.com/sabrinamorgan). There is no music, there are no glitter graphics, and I’ve shown excellent restraint in keeping my harem of younger men jailbait-free. (It’s harder than it looks. Give a gal some credit…)

Remember how I kept mentioning that relaunch of Full Frontal Politics?

Well, it’s starting off slow, but it’s happening. My first full-length sexual commentary over there in too many months is now up, and it’s on tease and denial:

Chicks don’t get a monopoly on the either foreplay or the oh-so-willing victim role. Sensual touch just plain feels good and there’s something incredible in giving another person complete control over your orgasm. It makes the eventual - okay, possible - release that much more potent.

To a smartass tease, the game of stroke-and-release has a lot of potential for mindfucking. Modern culture assumes the male orgasm. It’s almost a right in any given sexual encounter: the man will come.

In tease and denial that assumption is blown out the window. He gets what she chooses to dish out…

“The Politics of Tease and Denial,” Full Frontal Politics

That’s also where my pro-erotic activism and sex news will be going. Subscribe to the feed now and stay posted on the next updates.

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.

Tease and Denial on the Rocks

I think it would be fun to pick a guy up, toy with him, tie him up, and leave him wanting. It’s a little crazy, a little risky, but it would be so decadently wicked…

I’d pick him up someplace where he’d be expecting a quick and easy lay; a bar or a club maybe, maybe a pool hall. Sure it’s a cliche, but that’s the whole point. He’s got to want it, he’s got to be looking for it and he’s got to know he’s going to get it.

I’ll let him buy me a drink - or maybe I’ll buy him one. Maybe more than one. We’ll be taking a cab to my place. If he tries anything funny, there’s a witness. After that we’re on my turf.

Before we leave the club I’m going to grind and dance him into submission. Twist my fingers in his hair, push my ass against his cock and look back over my shoulder to see his face: sweat and lowered eyelids and openmouthed lust under blue strobe lighting. Perfect. I’ll drop down low, slide down his tense body like it’s a pole. He’ll feel the back of my head brush his prick - I’ll make him think about what would happen if I turned around.

And then I will… hot pink lipstick outlining my lips as they make an O right in front of his cockhead. My tongue will flick out, wet my bottom lip, and I’ll slink up his body and do that thing where you quietly shout in his ear, “Let’s get another drink…”

Sure I look Irish, but he’s going to be looking at my height, and the unsteady way I’m walking in these knee-high black vinyl high heel boots, and think I started before I arrived. He’s going to think I’m a little bitty two-drink drunk. And when I play up the buzz, he’s going to believe it.

I’m going to take him home and have my way with him.

My way is vinyl locking cuffs and my lace thong panties for a gag. My way is letting him taste me in the only way I’ll allow him. Teasing him with my hands and legs and lips. My way is yanking out the gag, pushing his head down to my crotch and making him lick my pussy til I’ve had enough, then forcing the whiskey down his throat to kill the aftertaste. My way is fucking him up the ass when he’s drunk, making him suck my clit purple, and calling the cab to pick him up again… No, no head for you, darling; sorry, what did you think this was?

I just wanted to pick you up, get you drunk, and fuck your pretty little mouth.

Sorry.

He’s going to slump into the back of that cab with a hickey to explain, a stiff dick, and nothing to show for it - and he’s going to sit very carefully on Monday. What’s he going to do, say I slipped him a Mickey?

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned… and I’m just getting warmed up.

My lingerie and stockings Niteflirt line got broken in last night by a charmingly horny Englishman who’d just arrived at work. He had three of my favorite kinks: a love of stockings, a fascination with tease and denial, and a desire to be ordered to masturbate. He wasn’t into directed stroking as much as the idea of being forced to masturbate and told where and when to come, having to beg for it…

Sound familiar?

Right.

We chatted for a few minutes about when we’d each gotten interested in stockings and in T&D… His was a lifelong obsession, and in turn I told him about my experimental teenage goth years and how fishnets and lacy black panties led to corsets and silky sheer hold-ups. (My thing about slit skirts dates back to the Black Eyeliner Days when I’d show flashes of fishnets or black pantyhose underneath an ankle-length skirt slit to mid-thigh.)

So he found me in the office, in a crisp white blouse and a knee-length black pencil skirt with a back slit (you might have seen it around here), with nude stockings held up by black garters underneath. My stockinged feet were tucked into black leather pumps. He was sitting in front of my desk and I knew he wanted me.

I ordered him not to touch his cock yet. First rule of phone domination: The one thing they need the most, the thing they crave to be forced to do, first deny them, then make them beg for it.

I just love hearing guys beg.

Instead, I told him to stroke the inside of his thigh, stopping right before he reached his balls. He was to keep stroking while I teased him with glimpses of my stocking tops stretched by my black satiny garter straps. I stroked the nylon, telling him how smooth it felt against my fingers. I ran my hands over the stockings stretched out over my soft bare legs… snapped my garter strap… asked him if he wanted to touch his cock yet.

“No, you don’t get to touch your cock yet. Keep stroking.” Yeah… keep stopping short.

I made him tell me how much he wished it was my stockinged thigh he was stroking. I could hear the need in his voice. (I fucking love that.) I lifted the hem of my skirt to tease him more. Oh, and then I made him beg. He begged to touch my garter strap. Not me - not my bare skin - not my nylon-encased leg. My garter strap, smooth and shiny, black satin stretched flat against my thigh.

I let him. He was practically trembling.

I kicked off my black leather high heeled shoes and wiggled my toes inside my stockings. He could just make out the color of my pedicure through the nylon. (Red, of course. Matches my hair.)

And did he want to lick them? I didn’t care; I wanted them licked, dammit. And sucked. Through the nylon.

I’m sure he knew they’d be salty with sweat. My feet had been inside my shoes all day.

He was so, so good.

Good enough to be rewarded.

I ran my foot along his thigh and held it poised right above his cock. He told me it was starting to leak.

I could hear it in his voice.

“Please, please, may I stroke my cock?”

I thought he wanted to be ordered? Hah!

I made him beg. I had to hear it, wanted him to make me believe how much he wanted to feel my stockinged foot on his cock. No footjob for this guy… why should I make an effort? He was perfectly capable of jacking himself. I rested my foot against his shaft and wiggled my nylon-covered toes against the head of his cock. I pressed the arch of my foot against the side of his cock and rubbed just enough for him to feel a hint of nylon-on-skin friction.

I ordered him to jerk his cock for me. It’s always fun to watch a guy wank - especially when he’s doing it not because he wants to, not because it amuses him, but because it amuses me, because he’s giving me a show. And oh, how he begged to be allowed to come all over my pretty stockinged feet.

(Aww… But he’d just cleaned them!)

I almost said no… almost. But the idea of my toes sticky with warm cum starting to soak through worn nylon appealed to me.

I gave the order for his release - for him to come all over my feet, then, then and no other time; right then, or be denied for the night.

Oh, he came all right.

I heard it.

When you think about it, teasing is really a very detail-oriented approach to sexuality. From the position of the teasee, you’re a victim of imagery and sensation; you become fixated on a voice, a gesture, a touch, on the way her skirt rides up when she bends like that so you can almost see the gusset of her panties between her thighs.

There’s a sort of decadent helplessness to it - but you’re not helpless, you’re being lured. It’s silky lingerie over domination. It’s a dance, with steps forward and back, in a pattern… You might run, you can back away, but you are always, always drawn back. It’s a dance, definitely a tango. It’s about power and the art of the chase (as performed backwards and in high heels).

Everyone loves a tease.

Not everyone loves the uncertainty of the outcome, but oh, we all love the process, the suggestion and flirtation and even the slow eventual torture. Being drawn (or pushed) so close to the edge and then pulled back, hard - and again, and again, until we shiver and can’t form words - we all love that.

Control over another’s ability to lose control.

It’s intoxicating.

This is why the ends of my pens are frequently wet (as am I). They keep finding their way to my mouth, drawn over my lips, popped inside to wet the end and then rubbed against my parted lower lip in that way that might be vacant and might be very sexual, with a silk-thin strand of saliva that could easily be cum connecting my pen and my lip as I pull it away.

Teasing is about imagination, and being intimately aware of the filthy minds of others. It’s about activating them.

Sucking on the end of a pen is easy to do absentmindedly, and easy for the casual eye see as lewd. Tracing your lips with a pen is hard to do by accident, much more sensual, and much easier to brush off as innocent - unless you’re a dirty-minded pervert.

The way I’m stroking this railing pole? Rubbing it? Innocent. It’s just a touch. There’s nothing in my body language or facial expression to suggest I know how obscene this is, how easily my jacking and rubbing and stroking… and… and squeezing… could translate to the shaft of a cock. And rubbing my palm over the “head” of the railing? Just wiping some rust off my hand.

It’s only when my hand grips the bannister cleanly that I dare to look up at you, and smile, and put a hint of mischief and temptation into my eyes.

I know what you were thinking.

Pervert.

(Oh, and the pool cue? Do I even need to say it?)

___

If you’re into visual teasing and stockings or pantyhose, check out the sexy pic of the day from OnlyTease:

You’ll find their pic of the day thumbnails permanently featured at the bottom of my right sidebar. Every picture tells a story… Consider it inspiration. (I did.)