I am the unattainable woman. That woman you’ve always wanted but you’ve always known was way out of your league. I’m the kind of woman who went to prep school and naturally went on to an Ivy League college with a Hall named after my family. I’m the woman you see crossing the street to the theater or charity ball wearing the five-thousand dollar designer dress. Who sits down to dinner with governors and senators and bankers and CEOs. The one who smiles knowingly at you when you open the door for her or give up your taxi to her. I’m the one whose perfume is subtle and expensive, instead of cloying, and you like it enough to -almost- stop me and ask what I’m wearing so you can buy it for your girl/wife, or even for yourself. I’m the woman who travels to foreign countries with nothing but a carry-on bag because I simply purchase whatever I need when I’m there — and then leave it for the maids when I move on. I’m the kind of woman who is used to getting her way with a few pleasant words and a smile, who visits the spa once a week and the stylist once a month. A pampered, wealthy socialite. You might even dare to call me a rich-bitch because of my air of superiority and your own insecurity in the face of my self-assurance.
And I know you. Yes. I know you get hard at the memory of me, my scent, my voice, the way I walk. I know you want to worship me, worship my feet, my ass, my legs. I know you want to stroke for me, to give up control of your cock to me, to do or be anything in order to get attention from me. I know some of you imagine being dominated by me, imagine surrendering to me, and desire nothing so much as to be cherished by me. Owned by me. You imagine all the things you’d be willing to do, sexually and otherwise, to please your mistress–me. Such is my allure that you can imagine yourself doing the most humiliating things, if only… if only you could somehow be mine. And you find yourself aroused at that thought, the thought of erotic humiliation, of submitting to me and my desires — even to my strap-on — and it both frightens and thrills you. Oh yes. I know you. I know your kind.
And I do so enjoy your kind. I enjoy you so much that I make myself available to you for phone sex sessions. When I feel like it. I love to fuck with your mind. To crawl into it and find your buttons, push them, and listen to your moans. Your cries. Your begging. “Please, please, please may I cum.” Music to my ears, my darlings. Cocktease I am — and more, a conversationalist, a dominatrix, a goddess.
I am beyond your grasp, yes, but not beyond range of your hearing. If you are willing to pay my price. If you are willing to pay my price — which I’ve agreed to keep within your range.
For an erotic phone session with Empress Pamela, call 800-601-6975
Calls are $2.50 per minute, with a 10 minute minimum
Discreetly billed to your credit card
http://www.ratemycall.com
