I have a stunning new pair of light pink fingerless leather gloves, and I can’t think of a better way to break them in than on my slave’s face. Leather always looks its best when wrapped tightly around trembling flesh, and these gloves will be no exception. They’re soft, buttery, and oh-so-delicate—but in my hands, they become weapons of control. I’ll test both the gloves and him, using my leather-clad hands to cover his nose and mouth, cutting off every breath. No sneaking in air, no mercy. His only oxygen comes when I decide he’s earned it. The gloves may feel luxurious to me, but for him...

I have a stunning new pair of light pink fingerless leather gloves, and I can’t think of a better way to break them in than on my slave’s face. Leather always looks its best when wrapped tightly around trembling flesh, and these gloves will be no exception. They’re soft, buttery, and oh-so-delicate—but in my hands, they become weapons of control. I’ll test both the gloves and him, using my leather-clad hands to cover his nose and mouth, cutting off every breath. No sneaking in air, no mercy. His only oxygen comes when I decide he’s earned it. The gloves may feel luxurious to me, but for him, they’re anything but. He’s not worthy of softness or delicacy—only roughness, dominance, and denial. I love watching him squirm under my control, his vision hazing, his breaths shortening. I love the fear in his eyes, his body on the edge, right where I want him—right where he belongs. It’s as if he could simply slip away, weightless, like a feather in the wind. That raw, tangible fear? That’s what it means to break in my new leather gloves.