Understanding

“I will take what I own.”

Words the select handful of women I have progressed to physical intimacy with have heard me speak. And have understood. Understood both because of what had flowed between us from that first instant. And too, for the time we had taken from that first moment to build the requisite intimacy necessary for a full understanding of what was conveyed within.

An understanding in which, each woman has come to know, not only that primal animal within me – the one that craves to take her, to own her, its hunger ravening, firing the desire of the physical and spiritual to searing – but too, my warmth. My laughter. And my dreams. And in so knowing all of this, know that I could never hurt her.

And know too, that I see that animal within her. The one that hungers to be taken. To be owned. And yet it will rage in its struggle against me. Fighting helplessly with its all. The battle moving far beyond that of straining muscles. The somatic, only the final expression of that intimacy which has brought us here. An intimacy in whose safety that bestial core within her has been set free. Setting loose an animal which will fight until that last moment, when she is engulfed by the reassurance that my strength – something which has nothing to do with the power of my flesh – cannot be surmounted. A denouement foretold from the beginning. The promise of this knowledge, and the safety it gives, allowing all that which is within her to roar in its freedom. A freedom complete in that exquisite release of submission as she falls to her knees before the one whose strength surrounds her, has become a part of her. Owning her. And there, all responsibility ripped away, a burning red need that encompasses all.

In that rape which is consensual, we both know what is happening. We both know what is unlocked in that descent into raw, untamed primalness. And at that moment, neither of us would want anything less. And afterwards? A man and a woman who have seen and wanted all in the other, and in this want, given all of themselves. The knowledge now born, that all of each is known, is felt, and is hungered for by the other. A knowledge which gives depth beyond measure to a relationship.

Yet why do I rape? And why does the woman I am with want me to rape her? The answer to both these questions is found in the paragraph above. I hunger to rape her, for all that I see within her. All that makes her glow before my eyes. All that makes me crave to know all of her. Take all of her. And in so doing, give all of myself to her. A hunger which, is mirrored within her, where, as a woman, she sees all that which is within me. All that which makes me burn so brightly before her eyes, and makes her hunger to have my strength, my warmth, all that I am, take all that she is. Claiming her in ownership.

But is it rape? Yes. To say that it is consensual changes the manifestation of the beast, but traces can still be seen in its family lineage marking it as of the same species as that other act of rape. The one which occurs in terror and reviling weakness. An act where inadequacy, and the consequent fear and hatred it inspires, culminates in the brutalisation of a woman.

Something which noble masculinity, which seeks to dominate, and in this way nurture, abhors. Yet, for all this, physical similarities do exist between the two acts, which are so different in every other respect. But then, this is not the only place that such stretched taxonomy links two diametrically opposed acts in the shadows of physicality.

For, as a man, I will stand and fight for the intimacy I share with a woman. And in the course of this, sometimes, I will take her across my knees. Both in discipline, in those rare times where her behaviour is warranting of such. And too, in those far more numerous times of reassurance. Where no transgression on her behalf has occasioned the spanking she receives. The strength that enables me to do this, the strength that promises that I will fight for all I hold with her and that I will never lose it, is not of the physical. It comes from all that I feel for her. And it is this that differentiates the abuse and terror of domestic violence, with shared knowledge that, if I wish her over my knees whether for discipline, or reassurance, then that is where she will be. However much she wishes to struggle against it.

The parallels between the two acts – consensual rape, and discipline/reassurance spankings – are obvious. In both, a woman knows a bond of intimacy with her man so great that she knows that she could never be hurt. A knowledge which allows her to surrender.

Surrender to her need for submission.
Surrender to her need to sometimes fight against this.
Surrender to her need for her man's strength. A strength that promises it will always hold her to him.
Surrender.

And at the end. After I have spoken those words. There are always others. Carried on her voice. A cry of completion from her heart of one meaning, whatever the words that flow forth.
“You own me. I am yours.”

Surrender.

Aiden

Take the Taken In Hand tour


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Reply to "Are these just words"

Someone wrote:

On the yahoo profile it says you are 31... how much life experiance have you had? You may say that your knowlegde comes from within but we are not born with experience.
I don't believe it is life experience that counts, but how much you have learnt from the experiences you have had. I know plenty of 50-somthings that are still making the same mistakes they always have made, and they have not, and will never learn. Thus, I don't believe that their "life experience" is any greater, or worth more, than someone of 30 who has not perhaps experienced as many things chronologically speaking, but has learnt and grown as a person by recognising the behavior/thought patterns that led them to the mistakes or successes that they have made. I liken it to reading. You can read vast amounts - you can read thousands of books on any and every subject imaginable and walk away not knowing any more than you did aside from a few keywords and impressions. OR you can read and understand a few books on various subjects, and be more learned. It's understanding what you have read, not what you have read in and of itself.

I will open myself up to major criticism here by revealing that I am 23, and I'm sure more than a few of you will see this post as arrogant and/or ignorant. I hope that I don't come across in my writings as arrogant. (My ignorance is for you to decide though! :) ) In my 23 years here, I feel I have experienced a fair amount. And I thank my parents and mentors all through my life for cultivating my intellect and my individuality, and teaching me that I WILL screw up royally, and I WILL change my mind about many, many things, but what matters is that no matter what, I recognise what I have thought, said and/or done to lead me to that point.

I think your post is beautiful, and strikes many chords within me as a person and as a woman.

I guess what I am trying to say, is that I don't think that it matters what number of things you have experienced, how many trials and tribulations you have faced or how many years you've been facing and experiencing it all. I don't discount the wisdom of years either - my grandmother is possibly the wisest, funniest and most understanding friend that I have - but I am debating what I read in your comment, and that is that Aiden couldn't possibly know all he does simply because he is 31 years old.

Thanks
bella

PS - and I'm not just standing up for him because he's a fellow Sydneysider and Aussie, either! :)

life experience

Years of living do give one a perspective on life that I don't think can be acquired any other way. But what you do with your experience, how much you learn from what happens to you, is equally important. I've been surprised many, many times at the obtuseness of older people who I thought would be wiser. Some young people are extremely insightful. But it seems to me (no offence intended) that arrogance is usually part of the package when you're about 20. It was for me, anyway.

Melanie (an old lady of 40-something)

Understanding, "Understanding".

My own experience is not of issue. Indeed it is meaningless in light of the fact that I can offer no proof of it. Whether it be about what I describe in “Understanding”, or even about the details that are provided on my profile. How could I prove that I am thirty-one? Or that that man in the photograph is me? I can’t. So let us set aside the question of “life experience” that you ask. One which I could never substantiate over the net to a determined critics satisfaction. And instead ask another.
What if another who read what I wrote, while never having experienced it for themselves, saw within my words a truth of possibility that resonated with perfect faith in their heart. Would the mere fact that they had not experienced the emotional/spiritual connection I describe, and what this can then grow to in the flesh, render their faith as nothing more than fantasy?
The history of Man, more than anything else, is a story of a faith in what is known within, even though sometimes, all of what has been experienced in the outer world of the flesh screams counter to this. What else could inspire a man born into slavery to rise to his feet and stand, and possibly die, in the name of a faith that burns within him. A faith described in one word. Freedom. Something which, though he has never experienced it himself, is as real to him, as true, as if for everyday of his life, he has breathed it?
What I am saying Another, is that my physical experience should be an irrelevance to anyone else. For it does not grant validity to what I have presented. Faith doesn’t work that way. Instead it relies upon the individual to find the courage to no longer run from what they know in their heart. Had I not experienced what I have, or had I never even wrote of it, but yet, another somewhere, who had never for themselves experienced in the flesh what I described, but yet nevertheless knew in their heart that it was possible. Knew, because they knew what they could give. And that, if they could give this, then it was possible that there was another too, who could give the same. Would that render their faith as nothing more than an unattainable fantasy? And if they chose to write about this faith they held, without having known its consummation in the physical, would what they gave be reduced to “just words”?
Another, that you did not simply dismiss what I wrote outright, suggests that in what I wrote, you saw a truth. And that truth is not made real because of my experience. It is made real because you see it.
The topic of each individuals ability to learn from what they do experience is another one entirely. But it is one which Bella captured thoroughly in her response to you. This is something I have always likened to the allegory of the blacksmith and the steel. The blacksmith’s hammer falls, again and again, striking at the steel, shaping it. Just as life’s experiences strike against the soul of an individual. Giving it shape. But in both cases, whatever is to emerge in the end, is always dependent on the quality of the steel that is there at the beginning. Whether it be the purity of the raw metal the blacksmith shapes. Or the quality of the steel in a individuals soul.

Aiden

understanding

Thank you for your insight into the heart and soul of women, like me, who long to be themselves.

The issue of age, when we are delving so deep into our understanding of ourselves and each other, pales in significance.

You struck a chord with me at least...thankyou

For Anra and "about time"

Anra, when I do write, I try to capture in words that which is felt, and so known, most deeply within me. Something which is always doomed to failure. For, for those things which hold the deepest meaning to us. There are no words. But though this failure is inevitable, the undertaking is still worthwhile, for what can emerge, can plant the seeds of something that will grow into something so much greater still within someone else. Such was the case with you. For you saw perfectly what I wrote of. And that was how a woman may emerge as all that she truly is, in safety and in freedom. When a man’s strength makes her his. Owning her. And that how, a step in this journey, is the rape I describe. One that for its power, is returned to again and again. And how this act is an inescapable part of that same strength, that same power, that will see her spanked at the discretion of the man who owns her. Whether she wants it or not. For there, even in that fight, just as in the fight that occurs when she is raped. What is wanted, and what is needed, are two entirely different things. And in both what is needed before that need for submission can be met. Is the need to fight against it. And in doing so, know the total reassurance, the total freedom, that comes with the knowledge that the strength of her man’s embrace is unbreakable. That he will always hold her to him. And never let her fall.

Aiden

Aiden's writing

Here's one man's comment on your posts, Aiden. I found little in the original article to appeal to me - at least in the part about rape. I simply haven't met any woman whom I would like to rape. I've met plenty with whom I would like to have sex, but only if she co-operates. The more she co-operates the more I want her! I wouldn't want to tangle with a woman who was going to resist strongly - not worth the trouble. For one thing, I have never been physically strong, so the woman whom I could overpower would have to be pretty feeble. (The story that Groucho Marx said he would not want to join any club which would take him as a member seems to apply here - I wouldn't want to overpower any woman weak enough to let me overpower her!).

But I recognise the existence of a world in which what you write about is true. I know without having to be told that there are men and women who live in the way you describe. I applaud those women in whose hearts what you write resonates strongly, but it is a struggle to feel my own worth when confronted with the lifestyle you put forward. Reading your writing can easily make me feel small, not worthy: it's overpowering. Though far from being the alpha male type often extolled on this site (and in the Wide World, too), I know I have my own value and it's different from yours in quality, not just in quantity. You are a hammer: I am a drill - both tools have their uses and are indispensible.

With your further comments, Aiden, I was much in agreement. Your writing is poetic and economical and I like that very much. I, too, know things within that have not been picked up in this life time. The knowledge I have within enables me to be calm in the face of the terrible facts of this world, to act according to my own dictates, and in marriage to give my wife what I believe she needs rather than what she says she wants. Although I am a lot older than you in years I certainly don't assume that I have more "experience" than you. And I am not one whose writing appeals much to women - at any rate, the women who like to read this site.

About "the steel that was there in the beginning". My belief is that the quality of that steel, not just the shape, is affected by the play of circumstances. The metaphor is strained here. There's more than the blacksmith's hammer at work on the soul, there's fire and water as well. One who starts out with poor quality steel for a soul can end with something far better, and others who have good quality to start can let it rust, not use it or use it for purposes which will destroy its temper. To take this analogy further, other metals besides steel are essential to the craftsman.

I very much agree that however frustrating the attempt to put into words that which we feel most deeply, it is worth the attempt. We don't know what seeds that attempt will plant. Indeed, that is a major consideration which makes me want to post comments on sites like this!

Malcolm

Keep writing

And I am not one whose writing appeals much to women - at any rate, the women who like to read this site.

Never think that, Malcolm. I, for one, enjoy your writing, as well as Aiden's. It is both interesting as well as informative to read articles posted by men. It gives us women a 'peek' into their views on different things that this type of relationship brings out.

So to Malcolm, and the other men out there, keep posting. It is fascinating.

"rape" isn't the only way

the feelings that you say come about during these "rapes" for the man and woman are the same feelings that exsit for my boyfriend and i when we are making love. i know his strength very well in those moments. and the intimacy is almost unbelievable.

I just wanted to point out that you can have that intimacy and those feelings exchanged without it being a staged rape kind of thing. it can simply be making love.

For Malcolm

Malcolm, yours is a comment which could really only inspire one of two responses. The first you have already received.
The second, is the one I give now. And it is one which holds a far greater potential for arising true strength.
Malcolm, no words of mine can make you feel small and unworthy. Not if you stand as a man.
If you do feel these feelings, something which is open to question. Then the responsibility for them resides solely within you.
Yet, whether you truly do feel small by what I wrote is open to question. As also in your response you go to pains to state your own strength. One which in your view, is equal to the one you perceive I hold.
As for you statements regarding co-operation.
After having read what I have written, I am sure that you have the intelligence to perceive that what was described was a state where an all consuming primal desire, is given full expression through a resistance that, in its savagery, allows a woman to tear free from the shackles of restraint, and so fully explore her animal core. Something which, allows her intimately, and completely, to explore her own femininity. And inherent within that, her need for submission.
Something which merges naturally, with a craving for masculine dominance. A dominance which overpowers – consumes.
This heated descent into primalness, is something which speaks directly to that savage, male animal at my core. Something which, while certainly not comprising all that I am. Is nevertheless an undeniable part of me. And so something which, in a healthy relationship, needs to find expression in physical intimacy.
Yet, that is myself as a man. And that really, in essence, is what “Understanding” is. The man that I am. And so those women who responded mostly deeply to what I wrote, were those as highly attuned to that feminine beast within them. As I as a man, am, to the hungry, masculine beast, within me.
That you don’t feel this Malcolm. Is something which, while not comprehending, I am ultimately apathetic about. For I can only be true to myself. Like any man if he is to truly live.
As for your stretching of my initial analogy. Well, without pulling upon it further lol, I will simply say that I agree with you. I think the words of Andrew Carnegie sum it up best – “No amount of ability is of the slightest avail without honour.”

Aiden

Only way?

Only way,

Clearly what you identify in what I have given description of. And what I have experienced. Are two very different things. Yet that is natural. I certainly do expect every woman who reads “Understanding” to have an instinctual understanding of what I have written – as some have.
Discounting the word “staged” which not only denigrates what was presented, but also wholly fails to understand it. I agree that the making of love, when actually in love - and not the euphemism used by so many to describe sex - can be a powerful experience. One which itself can know many manifestations. Each opening onto a whole different range of emotions. From that which is most tender and nurturing, to that which captures shared abandonment.
If you read what I wrote to Malcolm above, you will see that what I describe in “Understanding” is something which is wholly of the man that I am. And recognises those elements within me that need expression with a woman who feels identically, if a healthy, intimate relationship is to exist.
That you might be repelled by that which I describe, I do not condemn. Anymore than I condemn Malcolm for not feeling what I do as a man. That is not to say I understand it. But in the end I am wholly apathetic of it. An apathy which, I am sure, if you are well adjusted, you share. Given your statement of what you hold with your boyfriend.
Only way, I never stated that what I described in “Understanding” is the only way. But it is certainly my way. And clearly from the responses. The way of some women too.

Aiden

Swoon

Limp wrist to fevered brow. Swoon. Keep writing, Aussie man!

Amerbritwife

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