Below is a truly delightful poem by an author who must of read a great many of my journals! I write that because the poem absolutely nails my depravities. Those very cruel, pitiless things I adore to do. And so timely coming straight after my previous post on my use of shaming outfits.
When a boy becomes a man, he’ll try any tricks he can
To behave as if he’s master of the house.
So dress him up in frocks; bright pink ribbons, bobbie socks
And you’ll find he’ll be submissive as a mouse.
Oh, at first he’ll make a fuss, but there’s no need to discuss
His objections; for his Mistress, as he’s bloused
Simply laughs at his hot tears; his cries fall on her deaf ears
And his begging merely makes her more aroused.
For Ms Scarlet it’s pure bliss, when her subject bows to kiss
And to lick her boots in hopes that she’ll relent.
For her mercy he implores, while before her on all fours
But she pays no heed to any such lament.
Made to stand up in his dress, he blushes hard in his distress,
As his bonnet is attached, and floppy bows.
Ankle bells for when he dances, ribboned wrists for when he prances
Round the room with arms held out in dainty pose.
But Ms Scarlet’s fiendish plan, for this girlish half a man
Is not based on solitary sissy play.
She’s invited all her friends, to observe him make amends
And to laugh at this ridiculous display.
Some are pleased without surprise, by the sight that greets their eyes
For at home they each have sissies of their own.
Lady Jessica, Christine; Miss Anne – elegant and mean
Rule their households from a strict and regal throne.
But there’s other guests invited: giggling madly, all excited,
Ladies in their twenties, eager all to see…
BB’s deep humiliation, and his total subjugation
And how shameful and degrading it must be.
“Does he like to dress that way”, they inquire and: “is he gay?”
But Ms Scarlet simply laughs and shakes her head.
Then she claps her hands for hush, BB stands with crimson blush
And explains, while sadly wishing he was dead.
“I’m a thilly thithy girl”, he sings out, and does a twirl
“In my frockth and lathe, I know I look a fool.
But if onth I dithobey, then I know that I will pay:
Bent right over for the cane, just like in thchool.”
“Tho I hope that I’ve amuthed, and you’re now quite dithabuthed
That I get the thlightetht thrill from thith dithgrathe.
Thith ith only for your pleathure, ladieth lounging at your leithure,
Tho feel free to kick my ballth or thlap my fathe.”
So the younger guests had fun, while the older ones looked on
Full of pride at these young ladies’ cruel delight.
And with glee anticipated, that cruel fate that surely waited
For their husbands and their boyfriends that same night.
For each such young guest on leaving, had a party bag all heaving:
With pink things for life in frillies and restrained.
Males: the fashion’s spreading, so the future that you’re dreading
Of a petticoated life is fore-ordained.