Have you ever had one of those ‘monkey see, monkey do’ moments that, while they seemed to go well for someone else, tend to go spectacularly wrong for you? You’re human, so I’m guessing you probably have, and God knows I have.
When I spied the latest Kink of the Week, I cringed so hard I got cramp but I knew I had to write this piece for it. What’s the topic, I hear you ask? Figging. The topic is Figging, which is the art of inserting fresh ginger root into one or more of your intimate entrances.
Now, it probably makes sense to tell you that the first time I read about figging it wasn’t in a BDSM setting. It was a book about ye olde punishments, and I learnt that slipping ginger into a woman’s frilly bits was once a penalty for indulging in lascivious behaviour. I’ve had fresh ginger invade cuts and get up my nose while cooking so my reaction at the time of reading was, how very fucking cruel. Cos it hurts a canny bit, you know? Almost as much as getting fresh chilli in your eye does.
A few years later, I read about figging in an encyclopedia of unusual sex practices (which is called exactly that if you wanna check it out) and discovered that, as with a lot of old tortures, it had been adopted by the BDSM community. Though I stand firmly by the whole ‘your kink is not my kink’ thing, I wondered how nuts you’d have to be to actually want to spice-burn your arse or genitals. This thing was not for me, no way not ever.
And then I saw figging in action online. After balking at the actual insertion part, I wondered at the face of the figgee. Their expressions unsurprisingly leant towards ‘ouch, ya fucker!’ but I also spied a few of those little helpless smiles that some folks do when a pleasurable sensation gets so intense it becomes delightfully intolerable.
The scene that followed was super-hot, with plenty of nipple clamps, caning, crying, and a bit of squirting brought on by a magic wand. I still didn’t want to try figging, not even a little bit, but I did have the ‘what does it really feel like’ question in my head. And it lingered until the day came when I could finally answer it.
Why yes, yes I am saying that I got drunk and decided it was a stellar idea to put fresh cut ginger up my arse end.
Well, I didn’t do it personally, the Fella put it in me, but at my request. I even peeled the fucking thing, inanely chattering away in the kitchen like I was peeling a potato and not a spicy root that was destined to go up my bum.
That done, we got hot and heavy then headed upstairs, yanked out some restraints and a spanking paddle, and I flopped face down on the bed. My hands were bound to the headboard but he left my legs free so I could put my arse in the air to give him access. He gave me a few paddle whacks to get me wriggling, applied a bit of lube, and then rubbed the thinner end of the ginger on my butthole.
At first nothing much happened. There was just a tingle that wasn’t at all unpleasant, so I said go for your life. It was a four-inch piece, if I remember rightly, and he pushed about an inch and a half in. A few minutes passed and then the tingles became a sting, which swiftly became a full on burn as my arse became a doorway to Hades.
I’m not even joking when I say I expected to find myself blistering. It was such an awful sensation, especially when the Fella stopped spreading my cheeks. Everything compressed around the ginger and made it feel like more of me was touching it. Even worse, the lube started to trickle and took ginger juice right to my vaginal opening and urethra. Fucking marvellous, that was.
I don’t think I’ve ever sobered up so fast, I swear to God. I squealed for the ginger to be taken out and, after he stopped laughing himself into a coma, the Fella removed it. Even after it was gone the burn persisted. I was ready to get out of there and aim the shower – as cold as it would go – at my mistreated bottom.
But then the Fella started fiddling. Fingers stroking here, quick penetration there, and I started to wriggle again. It was hurting and I disliked it, but I didn’t want him to stop. So he didn’t, he fingered and spanked me until I came. I can’t deny that there was something powerful about the orgasm, something that I only usually feel when I use a dildo that’s altogether too big for me. It was hard, intense, and for a few blissful moments the pain felt right. Necessary, almost. Once the orgasm ebbed the unpleasantness returned, though.
It was when the Fella decided to fuck me that things rapidly went south. He went for my cunt, but as I said before, ginger tainted lube had trickled down and into my opening. A couple of dozen strokes in and he started making the weirdest fucking noise. Then he stopped and I peered over my shoulder and it was my turn to laugh.
Lingering ginger was stinging the shit out of his bellend and he wasn’t happy about it. Once I started laughing, I couldn’t stop. I was still lying on the bed, spasming with giggles, when he came back from the bathroom with a freshly washed cock. Reader, he was not impressed with me at all.
It took probably somewhere near three quarters of an hour for the sensation to fade altogether for him, slightly longer for me. Once we were both comfy again, he saw the funny side of it, but we both decided that it was a one-time only thing. It was never gonna be worth it for him cos he doesn’t dig any sexual pain whatsoever, and the orgasm I had can be obtained by other means.
I totally get why some folks enjoy figging, or maybe endure it might be the better word. There was something really hot about the helplessness of it, of knowing that once the burn started, I couldn’t stop it, and that sexual stimulation would be so magnified. If he’d been punishing me rather than playing there would have been a different edge to it, too. Adding control, full immobility, his displeasure with my behaviour, his arousal from knowing that I was suffering because of him…that would have been menacingly hot.
While I don’t recommend trying new stuff when drunk, I’m kinda glad I was pissed when we did this, cos we would never have done it otherwise. But it’s done now, and I thank the Lord I don’t have to do it again.
