Friday, July 10, 2009

Figging

I have been reading recently about the deliciously Victorian torture of figging. The Victorians knew their kink! While food and sensation play are certainly things with which I am accustomed, figging is a delight with which I have had fewer experiences.

What is figging? you wonder, perhaps. You could perform an internet search quite easily, but allow me to explain in Valentine style. You, bound, perhaps face down on the table, or bent over the sling, so that you can squirm just enough for my amusement. The ginger, skillfully carved into plug shape by my hand for insertion. Then, I watch in delight as the ginger tingles, burns, torments, and works its aphrodiasic magic. After twenty, maybe thirty minutes, any touch I deign to give you will be absolutely electric.

I think of this whenever I am at the grocery and see hands of ginger.