The final week of The Pleasure Project is here - and I’m not slowing down. If anything, things are heating up. This week, I’m leaning deeper into desire, surrendering to solitude, sharing with my partner, and exploring what happens when I watch myself. And with the arrival of Le Jardin Enchanté - a dual-ended dream of suction and vibration - my pleasure is reaching new dimensions. Because why end with a whisper… when I can go out with a moan?
I didn’t have time today, but I did have one minute with the house all to myself. One minute to close my eyes, press play on desire, and remember I have a body made for pleasure.
No need for undressing. No fantasy in play. Just me and Le Jardin Secret - - six settings of suction and vibration in my hand - from a soft hum to a pulse that flirts with climax. I kept it low at first. Teasing. Whisper-close. Sixty seconds of permission. Not to finish nor a goal in mind, but just to let myself feel myself. Hear my breath, feel my body tingle, let my inner spot ignite. Sixty seconds of permission.
Because sometimes, one minute is enough to remind myself I deserve more. And that my pleasure is mine to summon - anytime, anywhere, even if it’s only for sixty seconds of pure bliss.
There’s something about a Summer Friday that makes the city exhale. The emails slow, the ice coffees double, and everything starts to feel just a bit more… indulgent.
I wasn’t headed to the Bahamas (at least not this weekend anyway) or even out of town, but I still made a list - a little ritual of intention. Not what I had to do, but what I wanted to do. Pilates. Groceries. A wax. And an orgasm. Yes, I scheduled it. Right there between arugula and a Brazilian.
Because lately, I’ve stopped waiting for pleasure to just happen. I’ve started building it in - like movement, like skincare, like joy. And the truth? I’ve been completely undone (and then redone, again and again) by Le Jardin Secret.
This hand-held external Zigu stimulator is my not-so-secret obsession - six settings of suction and vibration that zero in with the kind of precision that makes me lose track of time… and space. No penetration, no pressure. Just teasing pulses that keep making me cum.
I used to treat orgasms like a bonus. A “maybe.” Now? They’re a baseline. A beginning. A checkmark on my Friday list. Because Summer Friday’s aren’t just for early sign-offs anymore. There for pleasure on purpose, and I’m cumming for it, all summer long.
Saturdays like this are rare. No obligations, no timeline. Just me, a blank schedule, and a new lover waiting quietly in its lavish treasure box.
Today, I introduced myself to Le Jardin Enchanté - a dual-ended Zigu stimulator, smooth as silk and designed like a secret. One end offers vibration, the other suction, both wrapped in body-safe silicone that feels less like a toy and more like a luxurious extension of desire itself.
I’d never used anything like it before. The design alone felt bold - almost intimidating. But curiosity has always been the first spark for me, and I was ready to be surprised.
We started slowly. No rush, no pressure. Just exploration. The first vibrations were steady, grounding - like a slow exhale. Level 2 brought a quiet hum under my skin, a wanting that bloomed before I could name it.
And then Level 3. The ache. The pull. That slow unfolding. I came not in a crescendo, but in a deep, steady wave - delivered, not demanded. Exactly what I needed.
My body softened, opened. But something lingered - curiosity again. Because so far, I’d only played with one side of Le Jardin Enchanté. And if this was the introduction, I can only imagine what the second chapter will hold.
Today was supposed to be poolside. Sun, sweat, a chilled drink in hand - the long weekend in full swing. Instead, I found myself curled under a blanket, blinds drawn, ice packs pressed to my temples with a migraine that made everything feel too loud, too bright, too much.
But pain teaches us to list. And mine whispered: go inward.
I remembered something I’ve shared - how orgasms can be a natural pain reliever. The body’s own pharmacy. And honestly, I was willing to try anything. So I reached for my Zigu sleep mask, slipped it over my eyes, and disappeared into darkness. No sight. No stimulation. Just the cool, weightless hush of fabric against skin.
Then, from my bedside drawer: Le Petite Jardin - my palm-sized Zigu stimulator I almost forgot I had right next to me. Pocket-sized, discreet, and unexpectedly perfect for days like this. I brought it back to bed, nestled in quietly, and began to explore.
Not to perform. Not to impress. Just to soothe.
With my vision gone, my other senses sharpened I could feel everything - every shift in pressure, every pulse, every breath between my legs like a question and an answer all at once.
When I finally came, it wasn’t dramatic. It was grounding. Like a soft “yes” whispered across my body.
I stayed there after, mask still on, wrapped in the shadows, my body warm and quiet. Whether or not the migraine left me, I honestly can’t say. But I drifted into the kind of nap that felt like a lullaby - and for that, I was truly grateful.
There’s no better feeling than a Monday off. No alarm, no meetings, no inbox full of urgency. Just space. So I gave myself the full day off - from being productive, from rushing, from anyone’s expectations but my own. And I decided to make it a day of pure indulgence.
I slept in. Let my partner handle the dog. Skipped the gym and moved at my own pace. I took my time grooming - brushing my hair, running a bath, filling it with oils that made the whole bathroom smell like luxury. I shaved my legs slowly, just for the feeling of soft skin against soft water. And when the mood started to build, I didn’t ignore it. I reached for my weapon of choice: Le Jardin Royale.
That Zigu toy means business. Thick, powerful, and designed to make you melt. In the tub, the vibrations against the water made everything feel better - more intense. My legs widened, my breath quickened. I touched my breast. Let my hips move with it. I went up a level. Then another. I could feel it building fast - throbbing, pulsing - and then I came hard. The kind that leaves you flushed, soaked, and speechless. I stayed in the bath after, hair wet, body spent. No rush. No guilt. Just a woman who gave herself exactly what she needed.
We always talk about self-care like it’s face masks and lemon water. But this? This was real care. Real release. And honestly, who says pleasure needs a holiday. Mondays like this should be mandatory.
Some days I’m indecisive. Do I want suction or vibration? Soft or intense? Quick release or a slow, stretched-out session? Today I didn’t have to choose. I reached for Le Jardin Enchanté - the dual Zigu stimulator that offers you both.
I started the way I like to be touched when I’m warming up: light vibration, just teasing, not asking anything of me yet. Then I flipped it, switched to suction, and let it draw me in until I was practically arching into it. It’s like the Zigu toy knows my rhythms - when to build, when to pull back, when to take me all the way.
By the time I came, it wasn’t rushed. It was layered. One climax melting into the next, like my body was saying thank you.
Because sometimes pleasure isn’t about choosing a side. It’s about having both - and letting yourself want more than one kind of yes.
Wednesdays can feel like the week’s longest tease. Too far from the weekend, too close to burnout. I was tired, cranky, restless - but not in a bad way. The kind of restlessness that had me squirming in my seat, craving something else.
So instead of powering through another hour of scrolling or pretending I had energy for productivity, I gave myself permission to press pause. I slipped out of my clothes, into bed, and reached for Le Jardin Enchanté. It didn’t take much - just a few soft pulses on the suction side to pull me back into my body. My breath deepened. My thighs shifted. The tension I’d been carrying all day started to melt with every vibration, every wave of pressure. I flipped it. More vibration. A little faster. Then, more.
And suddenly, Wednesday didn’t feel so heavy anymore. Sometimes the best way to survive the midweek is to surrender to it. To stop waiting for the weekend to feel good. Because with the right Zigu, pleasure doesn’t wait for Friday.
There’s something sacred about having the whole house to yourself. No one coming home. No one calling your name. No sounds except the ones you make.
It doesn’t happen often at mine - but when it does - I take full advantage. This late afternoon, the silence felt delicious. The kind that invites you to drop the act, take your time, and do the things you only do when you're completely alone.
I smoked a post-work spliff. Led myself to my robe and let my pants fall to the floor. No rush. No lights except the glow from the hallway. I stretched out on the bed, already pulsing with anticipation and reached for Le Jardin Enchanté.
It started slow. A little suction, teasing me just enough to breathe deeper. Then vibration - steady and rhythmic, coaxing me to let go even further. I edged. Paused. Let the pleasure build just below the surface. There was no rush. No need to be quiet or fast or finished by anyone else’s clock. The orgasm came like a wave I was finally ready to ride. Full. Deep. Entirely mine.
One when we’re truly alone do we get to feel the most uninhibited. And in that silence, I didn’t just touch myself - I unraveled, opened, and came back home to me.
By Friday night, i was already in the mood. Not for dinner, not for small talk. Just… this low, simmering heat in my belly. That ache I’ve been nursing all week. And I think he felt it too.
There’s something powerful about letting your partner in - but not giving them the reins. Not tonight. I wanted to stay in control. To show him the way I touched myself. The way I knew my body. The way I came, on my own terms.
So I brought out Le Jardin Enchanté. He watched, wide-eyed, silent. I could feel the hunger in him just from the way he sat - completely still, like touching would break the spell. I teased myself with the suction end first, knowing exactly where to press, how to pulse. Then I added vibration. Switched speeds. Moaned, loud. Because I could.
He didn’t move. I came. Hard. Eventually, I let him touch me. But not until I had everything I needed. After all, pleasure is mine first. And sharing it? Well, that’s just a bonus.
This morning, I stood in front of the mirror - naked, slightly sore, and glowing in that way only a month of orgasms can leave you. And I stared. Not in judgement. Not picking myself apart. But seeing myself. Fully. In the flesh. In my softness. In my fire.
I thought about the woman I was on Day 1 - curious, a little hesitant, still holding back in places I didn’t even realize. And now, 31 days later, I’ve seen every inch of myself… and touched every inch, too.
I’ve used Zigus. My hands. My breath. I’ve come slow. I’ve come hard. Alone. In the bath. In bed. With my partner watching. With no one watching at all. And today, for the final day, I brought the mirror into the bed with me. I propped it at the end of the mattress, positioned Le Jardin Royal between my legs, and watched myself unravel. I wanted to see what pleasure looked like on me. To witness myself not through a lover’s eyes - but through mine.
Because pleasure isn’t just about climax. It’s about presence. Power. Reclamation.
So here I am. Day 31. A woman who made herself come for a month straight… and isn’t done. Because this isn’t the end. It’s just the beginning of never hiding from my pleasure - ever again. 
