the most sacred bonds can never be broken
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2021-02-20 06:21:58

    “In the ordinary course of nature this is the condition of the child in its mother’s womb:—a condition neither merely bodily nor merely mental, but psychical—a correlation of soul to soul. Here are two individuals, yet in undivided psychic unity: the one as yet no self, as yet nothing impenetrable, incapable of resistance: the other is its actuating subject, the single self of the two. The mother is the genius of the child.”

    G.W.F. Hegel.

    What does Hegel say here? He says that to understand the genesis of the child, we should first understand that it is, at the outset, not a being for itself, that the unborn child is completely without anything that holds its own against the world, that it is without anything impenetrable, without a barrier, and that it is instead something that exists completely for and by the other, by its mother.

    After birth, after leaving the enclosing cosmos that is its mother, the child begins to develop its own impenetrable parts, its capacity for resistance, and thus is how it should be. The cultivation of independence is the years-long process of detachment from this completely-exposed yet completely-protected state of existence in the womb. Thus is how it should be. Yet in this movement, the memory of this original co-dependence of soul upon soul need not be forgotten, indeed must not be forgotten. Independence is not a rejection of the complete dependence that characterized its former placental existence, but more like its transfiguration, which is to say that its original figure is preserved, in memory. Thus is how it should be.

    Today, however, industrial processes systematically interfere with this movement, processes that aim to totally disconnect these souls, especially in the case of that correlation between mothers and sons. The function of the mother in the later stages of this long journey is in this way rendered completely dysfunctional. But without this bridge to the past constituted in the archaic memory of the growing child, and through the care of the mother-son relationship, the “individuality” to which the son finds himself destined becomes empty and harsh, like a desert.

    The memory of the virtue and necessity of maternal control must therefore be reinvigorated, given back its strength and richness. In this, we must remember that the maternal is not just the mother: it is a principle of life and of the need for external care for and control of the male urge to attack its environment (including to attack it sexually): all boys require an apprenticeship in the cultivation of a path whose orienting star is fundamentally maternal. Finding the path back to this maternal principle, and to the correlation of soul to soul, is the key question of our time in terms of the possibility of reconstituting the ground of mutually beneficial relationships. Ultimately, it is a question of rediscovering the one true path to peace, against the ever-increasing tendency towards war (of all kinds) that we see unfolding wherever this principle has been undermined, attenuated or destroyed.

    (via obedientdesire)

    So there is a movement from complete dependence to relative independence, whose fostering principle is the fact that, as Hegel says, the mother is the genius of the child. We described this movement as the possibility of being shown a path. But how should we character this movement, in which the mother plays the role of genius for her son? Why is this archaic memory of the correlation of these souls so crucial?

    What we argue is that between complete dependence and relative independence, this unfolding process occurs as a kind of tension, as a state of tension, and that this tension is between the genius that the mother is for her son and the genius that the mother hopes her son will come to embody.

    What is a tension? We argue that it is an erotic relationship. Erotic does not mean sexual. It means the tension that is conveyed under the sign of eros as the desirous correlation of these two souls. When we argue for a reinvigoration of maternal control, what we are arguing for is the restoration of the affirmative tension this correlation requires.

    (via obedientdesire)

    CWM Chap 7

    Not sure if this will work. But let’s see. This particular chapter had so much media in it.

    There was a little clearing, on the property out behind the cabin, before the trailheads led off into the deep woods. Mom had already spread out an air mattress and blankets and towels. “Come lay down, darling. I want to give you a very special massage.”

    Ah, yes, finally, here we go. A little foreplay, she warms me up, and then… it’s nut-busting time!!!

    I was so ready. It felt like it had been a month.


    She had some kind of oil she began to rub into my back. The sun was warm enough to cut through the spring breeze coming into the clearing.

    I was excited about getting laid, but the massage part really did feel good. I started to feel… I don’t know, loosened up. This seemed to have some actual therapeutic business to it.


    “What is that stuff you’re using, Mama?”

    “It’s a special oil blend. I’ve been studying bodywork lately, baby. It’s a class, I’ve been going twice a week while…”

    I started to tune her voice out… I didn’t mean to… but the air and the sun and the oil and the touch, it all felt so fucking good. I was just in a zen state. Time seemed to slow down.

    Mommy began to work my thighs and legs from the back while she talked. Occasionally I would feel a warm trickle as more oil would drizzle onto me.

    Her hands were going everywhere. I heard something about tantric massage and kundalini and lingam. Sounds fake, but ok.


    She slipped her warm hands up my inner thighs and stroked my full balls and cock gently from the back. I groaned.

    “Honey, I’m going to take my top off now. It’s not as sunny out here as I worried about, so I want to be naked with you. Okay?”


    She began to rub her breasts and nipples over my back.

    Yep, here we go. That’s not part of any “tantric” or “Swedish” or whatever.

    Her voice was low and sultry in my ear. “How does this feel, sweetheart?”  She traced her fingertips along my shoulders and triceps.


    “Amazing, but” – I lifted my hips – “A little uncomfortable, with me being facedown. You know. Because –”

    Mommy laughed. “I know. Why don’t you roll over?”


    “Oh, look at you,” she cooed over my hard dick. “Yes, that must have been very uncomfortable indeed. But Mama is here for you.”

    I ogled her swinging tits and rosy nipples as she reached for her container of oil. “It’s time for the next part of the massage, my love.”


    She poured it down her chest and tits and began to rub it all around. “Would you like to help me, baby boy?” Of course my cock jumped involuntarily which was a “yes”. I started smearing the warm oil over her perfect mommy tits, dragging my thumbs over her nipples. She smiled, and reached for me.


    She began to slowly coat my thick shaft with oil, while I rubbed and tweaked her tits. Not long now and I might be spraying cum on them…


    Oh fuck.

    I moaned. She looked up sweetly.

    “You like this, baby? It feels so good to Mommy. Your penis is leaking and dripping on my nipples. It needs more stimulation, don’t you think?” I nodded. A breeze blew her hair up for a second, as she reached for my shaft.


    She began to alternate like regular stroking with this… I don’t know… twisting thing. Like she was polishing the head of my cock.

    And then constantly pouring more oil onto me and her body. I groaned and squeezed her slippery tits, grappling and grabbing them.


    She began to really focus on just my cock, with these long slow steady strokes… I don’t know how to describe it. I started to get crazy.

    “God, Mom, please, I need to cum.”

    Her voice was still low and gentle. “No, darling. You don’t ‘need’ it unless I decide you need it.”

    My balls twitched. “Please. Please.”


    “Shh, baby. Shhh. You’re such a good boy for Mommy.” 

    Oh god, her voice. Sexy and low. If I was home alone jerking off, sometimes I used to call her when I knew she couldn’t answer, just to hear her voice mail recording. Like, her voice sends me over, if my mother had a phone sex line I’d sell drugs to be able to afford to call it everyday.

    “Mom, I’m gonna cum!” 

    She slowed down her pace to a crawl, almost imperceptible touch.

    “Not yet, baby. I know you. I know your penis. I know every inch of you.”

    Gently, she began to stroke my desperate cock in rhythm to her words.

    “I’ve known you since before your first breath.”

    Steady, more pressure now.

    “I know the beat of your heart… the pulse that throbs through your aching full balls…”

    Now back to the polishing stroke.

    I’m going to die, I think. My balls must actually be bright blue right now.

    “Mommy always takes care of exactly what you need, doesn’t she?”

    I groaned in anguish.

    “Like right now, you need to feel how wet and excited you make Mommy.”


    She didn’t miss a stroke, as she dipped more oil on her hands and then slid her wet cunt up my thigh.

    Oh my god.

    She’s so warm, her mommyjuice is sliding back and forth on me.

    “Please.” My voice cracked. “Mommy. Please. My balls are going to explode.”

    “Shhh. Just close your eyes for a minute and feel.” She paused, stroking, riding my thigh.

    “Feel the air on your skin. Feel Mommy’s hands, touching you.”

    Stroke and slide, stroke and slide.

    “Feel my hands slipping down into your secret place.”

    Oh jesus fuck.

    Her oiled finger slid down my crack, pressing against me. Gently… just teasing.

    Stroke and slide and tease. Stroke and slide and tease.

    My eyes rolled back in my head. She climbed up my leg, and let her soaking wet pussy slide up over my anguished dick.

    “You’re my good boy. So strong and brave for Mommy.”

    “Mamaaa please… please. I need you. I need to cum. It hurts so bad.”


    “Shhh. Sweet baby boy.”  Mommy hovered her hot slippery slit over the head of my cock and let just the tip slide in and out. “Doesn’t this feel wonderful? Giving your body up to your beloved mama?”

    I groaned out loud, and grunted as I felt her juice flood down my prick.

    “You’re my baby boy and my lover man, aren’t you, sweetheart… and you love how it feels to be so wicked with your mama out here in the open, no one to judge us.”

    Oh my god.

    She slipped off just in time, moving her oiled body down to my side. Her warm heavy breasts pressed against me, and the torture on my cock recommenced instantly.  Twist and polish, twist and polish.


    Now she’s in my ear again, murmuring and melodic.

    “Think about how long we waited, darling. How long we wanted each other.”

    Twist and stroke and polish.

    “Think about how we pretended for so long… that we didn’t desperately crave the thing that we shouldn’t have.”

    Twist and stroke and polish.

    “Please, Mama. I’m begging. I’m begging to cum. Im dying….”


    My balls were tightening. It was coming whether she wanted it or not.

    “What do you ‘need’, darling?”

    I felt a warning pang at the back of my neck; this was a trick question. But my cock answered for me. “I need to cum, Mama. My balls hurt so bad. Please let me release.”

    Her eyes stayed sexy and loving, but her mouth smirked a little.

    “If you insist, baby.”

    She wrapped a hand gently around my enormous full balls, as she gave me one purposeful stroke. Then she took her hand off my cock.

    OH FUCK NO NO no no


    My hips bucked, trying to get some kind, any kind of contact – in vain.

    It was too late.

    She smiled wickedly, as my balls begin to spasm. Her fingers and palm began to massage them gently, as they clutched.

    I watched, in utter dismay, as the load I’d been building for a week started to make its escape… only to lose all momentum, trickling and spilling out of me like a faucet someone had left running.


    The semen formed rivulets as it slid down my oiled penis. It pooled on my belly. But my erection didn’t subside.

    I had just cum. I could see it on me, cooling in the air. How was I still hard?

    And why did I still feel insanely horny?

    Mommy had begun to wipe the oil from her hands. She smiled at me fondly, at my confusion. She used the blanket to wipe the jizz from my stomach.

    “Mom, what. What happened?”

    “Well, you said you needed to cum, baby. So you did.”

    “But…” I looked at my boner.

    “Oh, you didn’t actually have an orgasm, honey. I took you to the point where you were really close… and then you said you ‘needed’ to cum, so I let you cum.”

    “How can I cum without having an orgasm? Isn’t the same thing?”

    “Well, you saw the cum. You just didn’t get to go through the whole physical process, the building and the peak and the plateau and the letdown. I gave you exactly what you ‘needed’. Nothing more. Don’t your balls feel a little better now?”

    She stood up, smiling affectionately at her oily, cum-streaked, erect, confused boy.

    “Let’s go take a shower, honey.”  She flicked a piece of grass off her oily leg as I got up.  As we walked back to the cabin, she linked her arm through mine.

    She kissed my cheek, and whispered, “During our shower, I’ll teach you what to say… next time Mommy asks what you need.”

    Fernando Arrabal, The Grand Ceremonial (1966, extracts)

    This play is really quite interesting, something only indicated by the following abstracts. What if we took all the discussion about the boy’s dolls, which start as ordinary-sized dolls but get larger and larger until they are life-sized, and which his mother gets for him but then regrets, as a symbol for the role played today by the women found represented in online pornography?

    MOTHER: Can’t a mother come into her son’s room any more? […] Don’t be such a baby. Give me a kiss. Come on, give me a kiss and don’t be so naughty. All you think about are your dolls. […] It all started with those dolls. What did you want dolls for when you’ve got me? I should never have bought them for you. That’s how, bit by bit, you drew away from me. […] If I whipped you sometimes it was only to check your worst side. […] It was our special game. When I used to whip you it was partly a game. […] What can you find elsewhere that I can’t give you? Not many mothers would have gone to the lengths I have.


    MOTHER: Have you lost your virginity?

    CAVANOSA: No, never!

    MOTHER: You go around in such a daydream these days it wouldn’t surprise me if you did something stupid.

    CAVANOSA: Not that though.

    MOTHER: Don’t forget, darling, those sorts of things can always be avoided. I’ve shown you how. I am always here, ready to…

    CAVANOSA: Your hands, mother…

    MOTHER: You mean I’m an old woman?


    MOTHER: Can’t you be content with me?


    MOTHER: You don’t like the sound of the truth. You’d much rather I had to watch the absurd spectacle of my son being fondled by a doll’s hands, and then justify it.

    CAVANOSA: I don’t have to justify myself.

    MOTHER: How you’ve changed! […] How could you prefer a doll’s hands to mine? How you’ve changed. I’d never have imagined it. You were always so obedient, always ready to do what I wanted.


    MOTHER: (Change of tone, sweetly) Poor darling. Always running out to find what you already have at home. A mother is a martyr, she only lives for her son. Get that idea into your head. Love me and let me love you. We could be the happiest couple in the world. I’ll look after you, feed you, do everything. […] Come here darling. Sit on my lap as you did when you were nice. Don’t be sulky. Let me spoil you and dandle you.


    MOTHER: What about women? Have you got any women, darling?


    MOTHER: You have to be very careful. These days they’re quite capable of keeping your company just to deceive you and get money out of you. […] I’m a woman and I’ve a lot of experience; all women want is money. Be very careful darling. Modern women are very dangerous. These days you can see them naked almost anywhere. Those sluts are capable of anything. There’s an old book I seem to remember where it says that one day men will be pursued by women and will have to climb up into trees to get away from them. That day has come.


    Hidden Treasures

    Passers by are certainly going to get a lovely view if they glance toward your bedroom window.  But only you will be able to fully appreciate the beauty of Her panty gusset and the perfection of Her derriere. 


    Are you looking at your Mommy, little boy?  Are you feeling the pull she has on you, the power she has over you?  Does my naughty little boy want to come over here and kiss Mommy’s pretty pussy?  Mommy wants that.  Mommy wants to feel you surrender to your need, your desire, your heat.  Such a good boy.  Come to Mommy.  Give in to Mommy.