In the 1950's, a research project by Robert Kinsey found that 11% of people are interested in some form of BDSM.
In 1997 a survey on the sexual behavior of American students found:
- 11% of heterosexual male and 9% of female heterosexual students admitted to BDSM related fantasies
-12% of all students questioned showed an interest in spanking
- 30% of men and 24% of the women had tried out or experienced a form of BDSM
In 1999 a study in Germany (amongst adults not students) found that:
- 66% of the interviewed women stated a desire to be at the mercy of their sexual partners from time to time
- 69% of the interviewed women admitted to fantasies dealing with sexual submissiveness
- 42% of the interviewed women stated interest in explicit BDSM techniques
- 25% of the interviewed women stated interest in bondage
Lastly, in two separate research surveys (one in 2004 and one in 2005),
- 19% of people mentioned spanking as one of their practices
- 22% confirmed the use of blindfolds and/or handcuffs and other bondage utilities
- 5% explicitly connected themselves with sadomasochism
Naughty Excerpt:
When I spin around, Nick is standing in front of me with two challenging brows raised, dressed neatly in tan trousers and blue cotton shirt, looking so…formidable. My heart skips a beat. I like him this way – a little unpredictable.
I shake my whipped cream covered spoon at him. “If you’re not going to help then leave me alone so I can finish.”
He firms his mouth then slowly shakes his head. Though I’m nearly as tall as he is, Nick has a broad and muscled male physique. When he’s set on doing something, he can be pretty imposing. I back away from the island with him following me, and the counter bumps at my back.
The recipes occupying my thoughts are swept away. I focus instead on eluding my husband, who is stalking me in my kitchen.
“Honey.” I go for a stern tone. “I have to finish this. I promised your family.”
He takes another step forward, determination in his eyes. This isn’t going to end well. Late to dinner and maybe a half-finished pie. In an act of desperation, I grab the spoon out of my mixing bowl, hold it up, and fling a big glob of cream at him. It lands on his neck, to the right of his Adam’s apple.
I watch his reaction, biting my lip to keep from laughing. His lips purse as he studies me. I gulp. Oh crap.
Two hands slam down on the counter on either side of me. His nose is within inches of mine.
“Lick it off,” he commands slowly.
“Uh-uh.” I look left then right, see that I’m trapped and contemplate another dollop of cream. Something in his manner warns me not to.
The mixing bowl is jammed between us. As deliberately as a man disarming a bomb, he takes the bowl from me and sets it aside, then does the same for the spoon.
Slowly he leans in, until his mouth is above my ear.
“Lick it off and I’ll have mercy on you.” His warm breath sifts over my skin. His cheek rests on mine and the scent of soap, Nick, and freshly applied cologne tantalizes me.
“Mercy?” The squeak in my voice betrays my nerves. The world lurches downward. “Just what are you planning to…”
I trail off when his hand shoves down my pants and nestles between my legs. “I’m planning to show you why crotchless panties are so appealing.”
There’s nothing between us there – skin on skin.
Old reflexes hit and I stiffen with anxiety then his fingers sweep sideways brushing over my lower lips at the same time as he closes his teeth on my ear lobe. The tiny pain shoots from ear to groin. Arousal flashes through me and my clit stirs, until he releases my ear. Gone. The warmth drains to a flat dreary nothing.
“Um.” I wriggle and feel his fingers poke around down there again. Nerve-plucking tension is rapidly eclipsing Nick’s seductive ways.
“What?” He nibbles my neck then draws away to watch me like I’m some scientific project while he fiddles about in my crotch. Not squirming is difficult to do but I manage to stay still.
“Nothing.” I grope at the sink behind me, searching for the bowl. “This is nice, but…”
“I have another Christmas present for you.” He turns me around to face the sink then grabs a paper towel from the counter, I assume, to wipe his neck. “Grab the tap and don’t let go.”
My hesitation earns me a swat on one butt cheek. I hold the faucet, wrapping my fingers over one another.
This time the tension stirring is the good kind. Nick undoes the tie at my waist. As my pajama pants slide down my legs, the soft cloth feels like a lover’s caress. He holds each ankle to strip the pants from me then rises to his feet.
I’m naked, or almost, with him behind me. What is he doing? I crane my neck to see.
Though he steps back, he keeps one hand on my butt and traces the edge of the panties where they dive between my legs. “Whoa. That’s more like it.”
Another two smacks vibrate my ass. I gasp then shudder when he rubs his palms in heavy hot circles. The way I rise up to his touch is inevitable. I want more and put the tip of my tongue to my lip, ready to plead. The elastic of the panties snaps into my cleft.
“Ow!”
“Nice. They make me want to bite you down here. Makes you look sexy and available.”
Oh. Yes. Damn. I don’t care what the panties do so long as he smacks me again. Or bites me. I hold the tap even tighter, hoping for, at the very least, a nip. But Nick smoothes a hand up my side and beneath my top, skimming the undercurve of my breast. The length of his body presses into me. He pinches and tweaks one nipple to hardness.
“Makes me want to fuck you. Don’t let go of the faucet.” Again, the low tremor of his voice reaches into me like a minor earthquake.
To my surprise he produces my pajama pants, wraps one leg of the pants about my wrist, winds the cloth about the tap, then around the other wrist, before knotting everything firmly into place.
My heart does an up-tempo cha-cha-cha. I try out the knots with a twisting motion of my wrists, but no matter how I pull, I can’t get loose. Heat surges – my lower body seems plugged into a power socket. Half the fun happens when I realize I’m caught, controlled in an inescapable way – one of those things I’m learning about myself. When Nick molds himself into the contours of my back, slides a hand over each of my breasts, and thumbs my nipples, I let out a long sigh that melts into a moan.
He chuckles, then quickly unbuttons my matching sugar-plum flannel top and drags it down my shoulders as far as he can. Cool air teases my exposed flesh. “Got you going now, huh? Let’s see if you like the rest of this present.”
When he pulls out the kitchen utensil drawer and stands there, peering and poking and rattling the contents, I figure this is all impromptu.
Anticipation sings high inside me and I’m so needy. My body hums for more of whatever he decides to do.
But I can’t stop a smart ass remark. “Lost your way, sir? Need some ideas?” I wiggle my near-naked butt in the air like a red cape before a bull.
His gaze zeroes in on my second best feature then on my boobs, so I try wiggling them too. With my hands fastened to the tap, it’s a pretty poor effort.
A strangled laugh erupts from Nick. Triumphantly, he holds up a spatula and whips the end back and forth. “How red would you like your ass, honey? Medium rare?”
I clear the tightness from my throat. “Um. Just a little pink?” I ask with hope lilting my voice. The way his eyes darken and his mouth turns up at the corner, tells me he has other plans. “Mercy?” I squeak.
He shakes his head. “Too late for that. Though…” He tosses the spatula to the counter, fumbles with his belt buckle, and pulls it through the loops. “I need more practice with this. First course?”
The slap of the doubled-over belt on his palm reminds me of the last time. I want to feel the sting – can imagine the whack and spread of that blissful bite – but I’m equally afraid of what he can do with it.
When he approaches, I’m as quivery as Bambi would be on spotting a wolf sneaking up. Plus I’ve got my hands trapped. But the first touch of the leather on my butt makes me lean my elbows on the edge of the sink, stick out my rear, and bow my head. I wait. My pussy clenches and I squeeze my thighs.
“Stay still,” he mutters. Having meandered the belt across one cheek and down into my cleft then across the other cheek, he lifts it away.
The first strike plants on me fast and burning. I yelp, but more from surprise. Five more stripe up and down one side before he whacks the other. Two more power strokes there make me squeak and try to dodge, but he pushes on my lower back.
“Stop moving or I might miss.” Another blow and this time I hear a hiss from Nick. Then silence. Though his hand still pushes at my back I see him brace his other fist on the counter and lean in. His face is pale and he breathes deep and fast through his teeth.
Something’s wrong.
I’m still tied to the tap. “Nick?” Nothing.
He bends farther and presses his forehead to the counter. A long groan escapes his lips.
“Nick? What’s wrong? Let me go!” I tug and tug before he interrupts me.
“’S okay.” He pats the small of my back and straightens – even manages a shaky grin. “Just got myself in the balls is all.”
“You what?” My chest shakes. I’ve got my mouth firmly closed but the laughter is bundled up so tight it’s going to come out my ears any minute. I make what could only be described as a snorting sound through my nose then erupt into hysterical giggles.
His eyes narrow. “Are you laughing at me?”
I bite my lip and shake my head but it only makes the laughter more obvious. “I…I ca…can’t help it.” I giggle some more until he swipes me with the doubled over belt, twice. After a squeal, I stop giggling. “Okay! Okay! I won’t laugh!” I bite down on my bottom lip. “I’ll just grin. You sure you’ll be able to…perform, after that?”
He puts the belt down to my right and picks up the spatula and turns it slowly, inspecting it while we stand hip to hip. If this is the end of playtime, I guess I can stand it, though my pussy throbs and I’m so wet the stickiness has reached my thigh.
“I’m sorry I laughed. Are you okay?”
“Honey.” He looks sideways at me. Somehow his expression conveys both dark seriousness and amusement. “You just earned yourself extra punishment.”
“What?” I don’t know if the idea thrills me or scares me.
“How are your hands?”
“Um. Fine.” He’s not letting me go? I eye the spatula. The flat blue end on it looks promising. I can’t help doing a tiny wiggle.
Confidence back in his stride, he goes to the fridge. I hear the slide of the vegetable drawer opening then closing.
“Nick! Whatever’s in there is for eating. Not…not…”
A flat grin plastered across his face, he returns and pokes me.
Cold!
“Stop! Nick!” I dodge, laughing, as best I can but the thing – which turns out to be a cucumber – gets applied to my belly and breasts. He holds me down and slips it along my cleft. “Nick!” He better be joking about where that is going.
“I can’t put it inside your wet little pussy? Stick out your ass.”
I do the opposite. I tuck in, attempting to shield myself from him and his…evil salad ingredients. He steps away and smacks me with the spatula right on the crease of my thigh and cheek.
“Ow!”
His hand gripping my hip also has the cucumber, but at least the vegetable has warmed a bit, and is a long way from any orifices. My giggling and wiggling returns as he lays a series of fiery smacks all over my butt.
There will be marks left, I’m sure. By the umpteenth smack, I’m going hazy and I arch my back, seeking that odd fusion of pain and pleasure that sits there waiting for me.
Another few swats and he swipes his fingers along my folds, wiggles some inside, deep, then slips them out and in with my moisture.
“You’re soaked down here,” he says distantly, painting my skin with coolness. I don’t care at all, lost in a foggy land where all is right.
No more smacking. I lean on my forearms as he makes me move my stomach away from the counter. I feel him get down between my legs. There’s a thump as maybe his back hits the cupboard door then his broad hands are on my thighs, parting me. Heat engulfs my clit.
“Ohh.” I moan and push into his mouth, still with my elbows braced in the sink. My flesh is infused with fire and lust and wet molten lava that seeks out my little clit. It pumps up, filling. Blood. Hotness. Delicious slippery tongue.
The cucumber probes at my entrance. I gasp and squeeze my legs together. “Nick! This isn’t funny anymore!”
His laughter is pure evil. “Oh yes it is.”
I’m in a panic now, pulling furiously to free my arms. I’m going to lodge a vegetable in his ear if he –
Then he pushes it up, up inside until I feel as if I’ll burst. Fuck! I can’t believe he did it.
“Nick! Take it out right now or I’ll –”
A slow vibration startles me to a stop. Wait. A vibrating cucumber? “Wha…?”
With a strangled chuckle, Nick plops the cucumber next to me in the sink. The Throbbinator is in me.
I huff. “Very funny. I so hate you right now. Just wait until I get loose.”
He grips my clit in teeth, and again, my rant is cut off. Coldness wars inside with warmth, making me more aware of precisely where he’s put the vibrator. The buzzing rumbles through my flesh to where his teeth and tongue are playing. Nibbling, sucking and flipping that sensitive part of me from side to side like some appetizer. Mmm – nice. But cold. Cold?
“Why is the vibrator cold?” My words come out thick and slow. His tongue deserves a Nobel Peace Prize. Maybe I can forgive him.
“I hid it in the fridge.”
The fridge? A vibrator in my fridge? I swallow my next protest. His tongue, the vibrations and the strange coldness are together doing glorious things. Complaints can wait. I open my mouth, lower my eyelids, and part my legs farther. He slides the vibrator out to the very tip then back in, splitting me.
In and out, lick, wriggle of wet tongue and then, I come and come, hurtling into white space. My legs and tummy jerk as I moan at the exquisite explosion of my senses. I settle, slowly, falling almost into the sink with my head lying on my wrists. I pant and recover, listening to the slithery metal sounds of a zip undoing and then the shuffle of Nick shedding his clothes.
“Now,” he whispers huskily at my ear, his hands on my shoulders. “I get to perform.”
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