If you have not heard or experienced Vampire gloves then you are both lucky, and unlucky. They are ingenious torture: the ultimate mix of pleasure and pain. They are truly the work of a depraved mind that only a hopeless individual would enjoy.
They are soft woollen mitts that are laced with tens, or even hundreds of sharp, metal spikes of unadultered evil.
The dominant, my wife, will stroke my bare flesh with her gloves, digging the spikes into my exposed skin and scraping the barbs into me. They hurt; they drive a sharp stinging sensation across my body as my wife’s hands glide effortlessly. The amount of pressure determines whether the gloves claw and scratch, or if they puncture they skin.
She knows how much pain she’s causing, and may temper her stroking with short, sharp spanks, often over already paddled skin; I squeal in pain; the spikes of the vampire gloves on raw skin is desperately painful.
But her pain-laden touch is agonising in places but so soothing; there is peaceful tranquillity to be found during my vampire massage.
And when she is finished, my skin is red and raw, adorned with little rivulets of blood, that is tender to the touch for hours, if not days afterwards. The last time I had red marks on the backs of my legs for almost a week, testament to the teasing play and punishment I had received.
The Vampire gloves don’t come out every day, or even every week but they add a wonderful dimension to our play where pain and pleasure really do mix for a wonderfully rewarding experience.