Our detour into kink was sparked by a movie. I can’t even remember what it was called. You’d think I would. But it was that flick which left Dennis dubbing me the “Spank Whore.” The name made me blush, but I wasn’t going to argue — unless I wanted a spanking.

We were sitting side by side on the sofa watching that terrible movie when a rather intense argument scene came on the screen. Mind you, the action was supposed to be taking place ages ago. Back when men could spank their women as punishment — and not the fun kind.

In the movie, the fuming husband had gone there. He’d been furious and had turned his wife over his lap and given her some hearty smacks on her heart-shaped bottom.

Then there came that moment in the movie in which the characters both realized a simple domestic punishment had become something more.

Something erotic.

I looked at Dennis, who was looking at me. I realized I hadn’t drawn in a proper breath since that palpable emotional shift in the film.

I was practically panting.

Onscreen, the hotheaded hero flipped over his woman, pushed up her dress and slid his cock into her — or so the action implied.

The movie was R-rated, so we didn’t see anything graphic. But that didn’t matter. At that point, I was coming apart at the seams.

“Oh God,” I whispered.

Dennis grabbed my wrist, tugged me toward him and positioned me belly-down on his lap. He ran his hand up the back of my thigh. His stroke was gentle, temporarily lulling me. The second after his palm reached my ass, he raised his hand so quickly that I felt the shift in the air. Then the blow landed, deliciously rocking my body.

I groaned helplessly.

He did it again and again — and my groans continued, rising in volume and pitch.

Dennis spanked me over my pajama pants until I was wriggling on his lap like a fish on a hook. Through my motions, I was basically begging him to fuck me.

But Dennis wasn’t done swatting me.

He tugged down my thin pajama pants. I wore no panties beneath them, so his next swift, solid spanks were to the bare skin of my defenseless bottom.

I yelped.

The final one stung. I squinted my eyes shut so tightly that I prompted colors in the darkness behind my lids.

My body was still interpreting the physical sensations and my mind processing the buzzing endorphins flooding my system when Dennis flipped me onto my back on the cushions. Breathless and eager, he yanked down his sweatpants and kicked them off. Then he was on me. He shoved my knees high and jammed his cock into me as his hulking body settled over me.

Our fuck was brutally hot. He slid his hands beneath me and clutched my ass tightly as he reamed me. Every intense thrust crushed the air out of my lungs. But that didn’t bother me because I was too locked in on my pleasure.

His fingers dug into the tender skin of my ass. The thumping heat in my cheeks was a ghost of pain from the sudden spanking. The spearing pleasure of him thrilled my hungry pussy. I clenched my muscles around his rod as he pushed me closer to orgasm. I cried out when my climax slammed through me like a runaway train.

Seconds later, Dennis shuddered over me, and I felt the hot, wet proof of his bliss as he filled my cunt with cream.

He kissed me and said, “I guess this is a new thing.”

I smiled shyly and nodded. I was surprised by the intensity of our reaction, but I also knew there was no turning back for us.

I made it less than a week before I instigated another kinky encounter. The movie scene had played over and over in my head while I was doing mundane things. Then that memory bled into our spanking scenario on the sofa, making me unbelievably horny.

One Friday night, I decided on the way home from work that I’d be getting a spanking that evening. The idea that I might have to provoke Dennis made me squirm in my seat.

As I pulled up in the driveway at home, I whispered under my breath, “Here we go.”

I found my husband inside, looking grumpy, which I thought would bode well for my naughty plan.

I didn’t want to torture my husband. But I thought I’d be helping both of us if I leveraged his annoyance to quickly get us to the good stuff.

“How was your day?” he grumbled, sounding as if he didn’t really care as he sorted a large stack of mail.

“OK,” I said, turning and knocking the letters to the floor. With one casual move, I’d ruined his neatly organized piles. “Oh, so sorry,” I said, pretending it was an accident.

He groaned, and we both leaned over to gather up the papers. His bad mood was palpable, but he was holding it in.

“What’s for dinner?” he asked, trying to change the subject.

“Nothing. I don’t want to cook.”

We were trying to save money, so we’d been eating in a lot.

“Fine, I’ll cook,” he said, sounding exasperated. “What do you want?”

I named a fancy restaurant, which we only went to on special occasions.

“Too expensive,” he immediately replied.

“You asked what I wanted,” I said in my most bratty voice.

“Let’s try this again. What do you want me to make you?”

His mouth was set in a tight line as he stared at me.

It was wrong. So wrong. But our bitchy back-and-forth was making my pussy wet. The flutter of badness thrilled me, and the need for release fueled me.

“Nothing. You asked what I wanted. That’s what I want.”

He sighed and said, “I know but — ”

I shook my head and turned away as I said, “Then I’m not hungry.”

“Fuck!” he barked a bit too loudly. “Can you just work with me here?”

“No.” I shook my head. I looked in his direction, my gaze holding as much of a challenge as my voice had.

That’s when I saw the light bulb go on over his head.

He grabbed my arm and pulled me toward him. Before I could even prepare myself, his hand came swinging down and landed on the seat of my skirt. But the smack was muffled by my clothing.

Dennis must’ve noticed that, too, because he led me to the sofa, sat down and settled me over his lap.

I struggled in his grip, and it wasn’t an act. The whole scenario had triggered my fight-or-flight response. Though I very much wanted this, my poor body wasn’t sure what to do.

However, the struggle made it all the better.

He flipped up my skirt, tugged down my panties and laid down a series of furious blows on my bare bottom. I felt the skin grow hot, then even hotter. The resulting tenderness was almost unbearable.

I wriggled on his lap with every blow, the hot pain searing me. But I also felt pleasure unfurling deep inside my pussy. My body moved of its own accord until I was unapologetically humping his lap.

“Oh, no, no,” he said, pushing his forearm down across the backs of my thighs to still me. “Bad girls don’t get good feelings until I say so.”

With his other hand, he proceeded to keep spanking me. My punishment for provoking him was apparently not done.

I gasped, cried, and bucked, suddenly unsure of my life choices. With the way I was pinned, I couldn’t get the right motion to stimulate my clit. I wailed in frustration and Dennis — well, Dennis laughed at me.

“How does it feel to be pushed a bit too far?” he asked.

I shook my head in response.

He delivered another blow, and I cried out again. The frustration mingled with pain, making me crack. He could tell I was done. He flipped me over and cradled me in his arms.

“All done,” he said softly. “Your punishment is all over.”

But even as he soothed me, he slid his hand into my blouse and played with my nipple through my bra. The small nub of flesh stood at attention, and every tweak elicited waves of ecstasy. Next, he slid his fingers down my torso, over the skirt bunched around my waist and down to my bare pussy. He played with the sparse hair covering my mound. When I was on the verge of losing my mind, he drove his fingers inside my sopping cunt. I once again wailed, uttering a string of profanities as his digits dove deeper. But he wasn’t just pumping his fingers in and out of my pussy. He also had his thumb wedged against my clitoris. As he finger-fucked me, he manipulated my button in the perfect way, pushing my body toward release.

He worked me like that until I was practically vibrating. My breathing was short and sharp like I’d just finished sprinting.

He caught me by surprise when he pushed me off his lap. I tumbled onto the carpet, facing him as I landed on my knees. He pointed to his belt buckle — and the bulge below it.

“Take care of this. No reward until you earn it,” he said.

I was hit by a rush of adrenaline. My desire was so intense I felt like I might swoon. I leaned forward, unfastened his belt and pants, and pulled his cock free. I slid my lips down his hard shaft as far as I could go. I sucked him and licked him, doing anything I could to earn his approval and get my reward.

I wanted Dennis to fuck me. I needed Dennis to fuck me.

I lavished his shaft with oral attention until his face told me he was losing his battle with pride. His stoic expression transformed into one of desperation, and the sight thrilled me.

He impatiently tugged on my hair to lift my head and said, “Straddle my lap, you naughty girl.”

I obeyed, letting him position his cockhead against my drenched hole. I impaled myself on his spike, rested my hands on his shoulders and bounced softly on his cock. I enjoyed the feeling of his dick going deep into my cunt.

He wrapped his arms around me. My head fell back, and he planted a kiss on my neck. He followed that with a bite that made my cunt ache.

I rode him slowly, but Dennis soon grew tired of the soft loveliness of me being in control. He pushed me back and positioned me facedown to do me doggy-style. I kept my upper body splayed in submission on the cushions as he moved in behind me. He hauled me up by the hips and slammed into me.

Every time he drove his dick forward; he simultaneously tugged me back. It was an insane game of push and pull. I fully surrendered, letting him move and manipulate me. My pleasure and need were one swirling mass of emotions as I climaxed.

Dennis gave me a series of hard, fast smacks on my ass. Another small orgasm burst free from the tail end of the previous one. My body shuddered and rhythmically gripped his thrusting cock. He came with a deep animalistic sound that made me want him to fuck me all over again.

“Goddamn,” he sighed.

Goddamn, indeed!

The following week, my husband was outside getting ready to grill. For most of the day, I’d been thinking about his hand connecting with my rump.

I watched him scrub the grill, prep it, and light the gas. The prepared meat was on a platter, and I knew our meal would have his attention for a while.

I kept busy preparing a salad and our dessert — angel food cake with strawberries.

We were having an in-house date night, and we were both dressed for it. He was clad in his nicest pink polo and khaki shorts as if we were going to our favorite riverside café. My hair was down, my cleavage dusted with shiny bronzer and my lips painted a luscious plum color. I wore sandals and a short red dress, but beneath my frock, I was utterly bare.

Eventually, he came in carrying a covered tray of grilled meat and said, “Those just need to rest a bit before we can dig in.”

I looked over my shoulder, flashed him a smile, and said, “OK, baby.”

But in my mind, I was wondering how to get myself another spanking.

My intuitive husband must have read my mind because he said, “I think you need to be punished.”

“What?” I blurted out.

There I was trying to conjure a scenario, and he’d already done the work for me.

“That dress is awfully short,” he said, his voice colored with mock disapproval. I tried to stutter a response — and failed. “We have neighbors, you know, and you’re walking around in that dress. It’s so short you’re nearly flashing your ass with every step.”

I had no words. I was utterly caught off guard by his patter. But I was so into his scenario, my pussy had gone instantly slick.

“I’m sorry,” I managed to say.

“It’s one thing to tease me. It’s another to flaunt your rear for others to see. Are you trying to upset me?”

“No!”

I knew he didn’t really care how short the dress was. I’d worn it many times. It was one of his favorites. But he was so committed to our drama that his tone and his gaze were enough to trigger my body’s internal signals.

I felt a slice of fear, which was seasoned with a hefty sprinkle of arousal.

“Put your hands on the counter,” he demanded. “Now!”

I put my palms on the counter and stood there facing the sink like a bad child being scolded.

He moved in close behind me. His fingers fluttered the hem of my dress just enough for me to feel the breeze on the backs of my bare thighs.

When I fidgeted nervously, Dennis leaned in close and said against my ear, “Stay still.”

I had to force myself to obey. He ran his finger along my hem again. This time, I whimpered but didn’t flinch.

He slid his hand up under my dress and squeezed my ass cheek before saying, “Your attitude — and your stance — both need an adjustment.”

He grabbed my hips and tugged, forcing me to take a step back. Then he moved my legs further apart farther by knocking them with his foot.

He pulled up the hem of my dress and tucked it out of the way, so my entire ass was exposed.

“That’s better,” he murmured before suddenly striking me.

The first blow rocked me, and my hips shot forward.

I mewled, shutting my eyes and immediately opening them. Even in the dark, there was nowhere to hide.

He landed another blow. Then another. Then the next. Each one stung like fire. In the beat between each of those blows, I felt fire raging beneath my skin.

“Such a bad girl. A shameless little slut. Showing off. Mocking me. Forcing me to do this,” he muttered.

I hung my head. My hanging hair hid my face as he delivered the next few blows. Then he was crowding in close behind me. His hand snaked around my middle and down to my pussy. His flexing fingers breached me, testing my wetness and my willingness.

“Please,” I begged.

“Shh.”

“Please!” I insisted.

Seconds later, I heard the rasp of his zipper opening and the sound of his shorts hitting the floor. Then he slid his dick into me briskly from behind. He drove into me so fast he almost lifted my heels off the floor. I gripped the edge of the sink to keep my balance as he began to move. He pumped his hips and fucked me repeatedly.

“Touch your clit,” he commanded.

I dragged my fingers downward to do as instructed while he continued pounding me with a beastly grunt. He was more animal than man in that moment, and my arousal was nearly overwhelming. I pinched my clit, then rubbed it briskly because I could tell how incredibly close he was to coming.

Every thrust was accented with another grunt. Every breath sent a rush of hot air over the back of my neck.

Dennis rested his hand between my shoulder blades and pushed, forcing my upper body a bit lower. I swayed on my feet, rocking in time with his movements.

The friction was delicious. Every time he entered me my pleasure increased. It spiraled higher and higher as I touched myself.

“Don’t you dare come without permission,” he growled.

I nodded crazily and promised to hold myself back until he gave the word.

He went rigid behind me, and I felt the rush of his jizz filling me. Dennis withdrew and turned me to face him. My dress fell down, but he lifted it over my head a moment later. Then he hiked me up so that my ass was barely perched on the counter. He dipped a finger into my pussy and spread his come around my clitoris.

“Now rub again,” he said.

I did as he demanded, letting his come lube my way.

Never breaking eye contact with me, he slid two fingers inside my cunt and fucked me that way. In and out, in and out, eased by his own fluids.

I continued rubbing my clit as he finger-fucked me. Not letting up, he leaned and bit my left nipple hard enough to make me gasp. He licked it to soothe the sting and then went to the other side. He nipped me hard enough that I gasped again.

His fingers kept moving in me as my fingers whirled over my clit.

He kissed me roughly, and then rasped, “You can come now, you filthy girl.”

Shuddering on the kitchen counter, I climaxed wildly with his fingers in my cunt — and his handprints on my ass.