pain

Figging

I’ve mentioned before that I love anal sex and anal play. Clearly I have a spanking fetish, too. It doesn’t take long perusing my blog to figure these things out.

I’m a fairly experimental person and am willing to try new things that appeal to me or my partners within reason. Needle play? No thanks. Cutting? Hell no. But I’m open to trying other kinky acts that are closer to my interests. One of the things that falls into that category is figging. I’ve always been intrigued by the idea. Figging seemed like it might be a new and interesting sensation that provided both pain and pleasure. Most of my partners were very unwilling to try. They were afraid it was going to be too extreme based on things they’d read online.

Finally I found a partner who was willing to experiment with figging with me. The tl;dr of it all is that I was really disappointed by the experience. So was my partner.

We began with me peeling the ginger under his supervision. I accidentally broke off the end of the first attempt that was going to serve as the protective flange to keep the ginger from getting pulled into my ass, but luckily I had bought a big cluster of ginger that let me make a second ginger fig successfully.

Armed with the freshly peeled ginger, we headed to the bedroom where my partner bound my hands together to keep me from trying to remove the ginger. He also put a blindfold over my eyes to help increase the suspense for me. After a bit of spanking foreplay, my partner then inserted the ginger into my ass. He waited for the screaming and thrashing to start.

There was none.

The ginger did cause a burning sensation, and it slowly built up to something more powerful. After many minutes, I did eventually request for him to take it out because it was uncomfortable though not intolerable. The whole experience was just disappointing.

My partner was of the mindset that he wasn’t going to be doing anything to me that he hadn’t experienced himself, so he asked that I return the favor by inserting the ginger into his ass. We both knew that he had a much lower pain threshold than I do, so he was still concerned about what he was getting himself into. But as with my experience, my lover was disappointed. He also found the pain from the burning to be far less than he expected.

Both my lover and I have experienced some major health issues which included pain (not to mention my experiences of childbirth), and we agreed that those who think ginger is the worst pain in the universe must not have been through other intense pain. Maybe we got a bum piece of ginger (ba-dum-dum), but it was fresh and highly fragrant. We don’t think that was the issue. We think that figging is just not all that it is (butt-) cracked up to be.

After the experience, I removed “figging” from my Fetlife list of “curious about.” I was no longer curious. However, I didn’t move figging to my list of fetishes. It just didn’t do enough for me. If a future partner wants to try it again, I’d be happy to do so, but it’s not something I’ll go out of my way to do.

©2018 WoodLeatherLace.com

Wax On, Wax Off

Almost all of the men I have had sex with have preferred a shaved pussy. I’ve heard the theory that it’s due to influence of porn on men’s minds as to what vulvas “should” look like. I can also buy the argument that they prefer not to have hair in their mouths when performing oral, though that argument loses a lot of steam if they subsequently refuse to go down on women (as too many do).

Since I’m not attached to my pubic hair style, I’m happy to style it however my current partner prefers within reason. However, as an obese woman, I find it very difficult to shave myself. I end up cutting myself most of the time even with an electric razor. It’s physically difficult to reach many spots. I can’t see what I’m doing even when using a mirror to help.

Thus, I tell the guys that I’m happy to shave myself for the first time or two, but after that I either need them to shave me or wax me. I love being shaved by my partner. It’s an act of dominance that totally turns me on. It’s also an act of caring and devotion. Some have been willing to do it (and I’ve returned the favor for them if they’ve asked though I prefer my men to be somewhat hairy in the genital region and otherwise).

However, not one single partner has been willing to wax me. They cringe at the thought. They want me to wax myself (how, I don’t know) or have someone else do it. They won’t do it. They turn into scared wimps. One of them, the most disciplinary Dom I have had, started whining at me about how he was afraid he’d hurt me. Really? You love to beat my ass red. You want me to choke on your cock when you ram it down my throat. Yet you are afraid of hurting me by waxing me?

I have never understood this bit of male logic. They want us as women to go through the pain of being waxed for their sexual gratification, but they’re too scared of the pain of waxing to help do it to us or even being around when it’s done. What a bunch of wimps. Also, see: hypocrites.

There was only one guy whom I was messaging with who I believe would have actually waxed me, though I found out he was married and that was the end of that since I don’t do married men unless I am married to them. He was the most sadistic man I’ve ever messaged with. He identified as primal, but his sexual desire for pain was more than that. He was a true sadist. He honestly scared me quite a bit with the level of his sadism, so when I found out he was married, part of me was relieved that I wasn’t going to be playing with him despite all his other appealing qualities.

So what does that say that only a true sadist is willing to help a woman wax her vulva yet all the other men want a silky smooth pussy as long as they don’t have to do the work? What is it about men and their unrealistic beauty requests of women? Why is this still the way the things are? What are other women doing to help change this?

©2018 WoodLeatherLace.com

Playing Too Hard, Part 2

(continued from Part 1)

(content warning: childhood abuse)

After a playful spanking session with my newbie partner, I ended up with unintentional bruises and welts which hurt and lasted for several days. I was pretty upset by the whole situation even though I knew my partner hadn’t intentionally caused physical damage. However, my emotional state told me something was wrong. Very wrong.

It took several days of thinking about it, but I finally let myself go there, into the dark recesses of my mind where my worst memories are stored. I thought about how familiar this pain was. That was a frontier I hadn’t wanted to cross into. I really didn’t want to know what I was remembering, and yet I was going there even though I didn’t want to.

I finally admitted to myself that I knew this pain from a too vigorous spanking because I’d endured it many times before in my childhood. The abusive spankings from my father left me feeling this sore for hours and days afterward. As far as I remember, they were given with his hand only, but clearly on my small childhood frame, they were long enough and hard enough to be physically damaging.

As I child, I had never looked to see if I had marks. I was afraid of being caught looking at my own body. I’d been taught that my body was shameful and whatever behavior I’d done (or my parents thought I had done) to “earn” the abusive spankings was equally shameful. As a result, if I had been physically marked as a child from the abuse, I had never seen it on my own body. However, my body remembered. It knew this feeling. It recognized the pain.

For most of my adult life, I was unwilling to admit I was abused as a child. In more recent years, I’ve always consoled myself that part of the reason that I couldn’t say I was abused was because my parents never used implements on me and never left me bruised or welted. It turns out that at least part of my rationalization was not true, and I have been forced to quit denying the truth. There was no chance my body was lying to me about the pain I was feeling. I was bruised during many spankings in my childhood. I was abused.

Unfortunately, I didn’t feel I could talk to my sexual partner about what had happened to me mentally and emotionally after we played too hard. I just didn’t have the kind of trust in him and our relationship wasn’t deep enough. I talked to my therapist a bit, but not a lot. I am not out to her as kinky, so I only talked in terms of saying that I realized finally that the abuse was more violent than I previously had been willing to admit to myself.

I am still not sure what to do with the knowledge I gained from this session where my partner and I played too hard. I have had sex since then, but not kinky sex, and I’m not sure how I will be able to approach sexual spanking with my next kinky lover having this new yet old knowledge fully in my consciousness now.

I also don’t know if I’ll ever know the full truth of the abuse I endured as a child. My mind has repressed a lot of the worst of it. I also don’t think I really want to know any more details about what I endured. There’s a reason my mind has hidden it from me. What I know is hard enough to cope with. The more I learn, the harder it is for me to handle.

However, I now know why I don’t want to be marked or bruised, and I can let partners definitively know it brings up too much trauma from my abusive childhood. Most of my partners have been understanding about not wanting to retraumatize me and have been good about working to make our sex lives as positive as possible for both of us. I wish we didn’t have that obstacle to work around because the actual spanking session with my previous partner was a lot of fun while we were playing. The aftermath was just too triggering. Unfortunately, though, this is part of my reality that I now must face and so must my future partners.

©2018 WoodLeatherLace.com