Category: humour(?)

Time for another corrupted song. No, wait – don’t go away, not Gilbert and Sullivan this time!  More Andrews Sisters sort of thing.  It is technically based on this (Bongo bongo bongo!), but readers with a low tolerance for old-fashioned racism might want to stay clear. Consider that a trigger warning.

The rest of today’s post contains no old-fashioned racism or anything upsetting – just good, healthy torture, non-consensual castration and enslavement.  Enjoy.

Castration (clippy clippy clippy)

Every morning, my husband wakes up from his slumbers and sighs
He remembers how it used to be, all stiff with morning wood and he tries
To conjure up the feelings and the urgent sex desires once more
But he’s staying soft forever, cos his testicles are kept in my drawer.

So: clippy, clippy, clippy, time for Hubby’s little snippie, la da la da da-lack.
Looping, looping, looping with the cheese-wire round his drooping little tight ball-sack.
Don’t want no macho, hetero, man’s man hanging out with the boys.
Just a chastened little sissy, in a state of shock and mourning for his toys.

My nurse friends helped me trick him with an X-ray that they faked up one night
(They sound nice!)
So he lay down on the gurney, where they strapped him down and gagged him quite tight.
(Oh, is that so he can’t hurt himself?)
When they raised his legs apart and shaved the hair around his crotch, he caught on
(What did he do, darling?)
And he writhed in pain and terror as his scrotal sac then gonads were gone.

So: clippy, clippy, clippy, time for Hubby’s little snippie, la da la da la-lack.
Looping, looping, looping with the cheese-wire round his drooping little tight ball-sack.
Don’t want no hard-ons, stiffies, boners, gunk squirting out in a mess.
Just a sexless little gelding, in his panties and a cute little dress. 

He brings me up my breakfast and he curtsies without spilling the tray
(How does he do that?)
Then he runs my bath and gets the clothes I’ve told him I’ll be wearing that day
‘Cos he’s meek and well-behaving now he’s not a man, he does as I say
And the hairbrush by my bedside is awaiting if he doesn’t obey.

So: clippy, clippy, clippy, time for Hubby’s little snippie, la da la da la-lack
Looping, looping, looping with the cheese-wire round his drooping little tight ball-sack
Don’t want no half-sized husband, thinking he has rights over me
I get fucked by guys with bigger cocks – and sometimes so does he.

Now, my hubbie’s little dickie’s still attached but it’s as soft as a worm
I can grab and pinch and twist it and I love to watch him whimper and squirm.
But one day I’ll get the scalpel out and slice it off in multiple cuts.
Then the bedside jar awaits and I’ll be adding his sliced pickle to his nuts.

Girls, they say that the world is man’s. But our future’s right in our hands.
Castration? Just come right here.

The beautiful and talented ladies illustrating this little ditty were the Beverly Belles.  Goodness those polkadot dresses… don’t they just make you want to drape yourself across each of their laps in turn and confess your sins?

But what about that Christina Aguilera song, you ask?  You know?  That one?  Oh, it’ll feature here too, don’t worry.  Just need to think me up a few more rubbish lyrics.

But to tide you over until then… people who enjoy looking at modern-day lovely ladies wearing navy uniform and boogying to the accompaniment of the Andrews Sisters might enjoy this. Let’s face it, the Yiddish-language femdom scene is a bit short of content these days.