There are many visually symbolic and ritualistic acts encountered in my dungeon, but the slipping on, into (or off) of a delectable pair of gloves is amongst the most powerful – for those who appreciate such fine details of course. There’s no doubt about it, gloves mean business. You’ve definitely declared, ‘I DEMAND satisfaction,’ as you defiantly throw down the proverbial gauntlet.

My dutiful slave, collared at my heel must simply look on and mentally prepare for the unravelling scene as my digits disappear within their confines. Tight leather fingers slowly taking form, the warmth beneath fusing with the soft material as they are dutifully worshipped on command. An iron fist in a velvet glove indeed.

From soft, sensual strokes to an unforgiving grip coupled with Malicious intent…every touch rewires the nerves, overloads the senses, drowns the taste-buds in a submissive euphoria and shakes the slave to his submissive core.

Whether it’s the smack of black latex, leading to well-lubricated fingers and an intrusive examination; the slow spectacle of encasement in long leather opera gloves, before the wielding of a whip; or the shiny, sleek satin of a Hollywood starlet simply sipping champagne – gloves enhance and add a certain something to a scene. They are an integral element of any identity. Yes, to be a connoisseur of the glove is to truly care about aesthetics and sensual pleasures.

There is a little glove shop in the heart of Lisbon’s refined Chiado district (Luvaria Ulisses) where your elbow is rested upon a velvet pillow. Your fingers are measured down to the last millimetre. And with these vital statistics, the owner fits you with the finest gloves in a rainbow of colours and embellished according to your wishes. What other apparel might have quite such a delectable origin?

In this digital age they hint back to analogue indulgences. And of course a true Mistress requires a glove for every occasion – one can hardly drive, and dance in the same pair…as much as one can hardly whip, or probe. Or punish.

Personally I have always loved the hint of espionage which accompanies my favourite lambs-leather driving-gloves….depriving the scene of DNA or identifying finger-prints. Now what kind of sinister seductress would wish to omit such incriminating details?

On this note, I shall leave you with a final intoxicating and erotic gloved thought:

A single leather (or latex)-clad finger held to the lips and accompanied by a sinister, ‘Shhh!’