Code of Conduct: Discipline, Spanking, and Humiliation in the Workplace

He stood back, running a hand over the curve of my ass and the back of my thigh. “Alright, my little misbehaver. Panties off.”

Under the boss determined to instill discipline, you don’t want to be the employee caught doing the wrong thing …

Code of Conduct is a three story bundle of workplace domination, discipline, and surrender to forbidden lust.

Reader Advisory: These stories are for mature audiences only and feature intensely erotic situations, well-hung alpha men, spanking, discipline, rough sex, dominance and submissiveness. All characters are 18 or older.


My heart was pounding as I looked up at him. His thick arms caged me in and back against the bed. It was as though his weight was already on me, pushing me back into the soft mattress, but he hadn’t touched me yet.

I couldn’t believe it was happening. I was about to get fucked by my boss.

I put a tentative hand up against his shoulder, just to feel him, and the heavy muscles pulsed under my fingers. I moaned at how badly I wanted him and at how long I’d wanted him. I ground my thighs together in restrained eagerness. “I’m ready,” I breathed.

He gathered my blouse in one hand and pulled it open, sending buttons flying across the carpet. I gasped, giddy with amazement. He was a stallion. I’d never been with a man like this. I’d never been with someone so much older and so much more experienced.

He unsnapped my bra with an easy gesture and pulled that away, too. I watched it flutter back behind him before my eyes returned to his. He looked at me, lust burning in his face.

His hands reached out and took my breasts, feeling at their naked shapes and cupping them as he leaned forward to kiss me. He paused just above me, his breath hot on my throat. I looked up at him a little shyly, taken aback by this sudden pause as he savored his ownership of my body. I could feel a slight blush in my face.

“You’re playing with me?” I asked.

“Isn’t that what you’ve been doing with me?” he countered.

I laughed a little in exasperation and arched my back to push my tits up into his hands. His touch felt so impossibly good. I just wanted more of it, more of it everywhere.

He bent and pressed his lips to my nipple. His hot, wet tongue circled it teasingly. I bit back the moan at first, and then let it out, giving in to the helpless pleasure.

His kisses began a trail across the top of my breast, up my throat, hot and slow against my neck, and then finally brushing against my lips. I returned the kiss enthusiastically, wet and sloppy and exuberant.

“Now,” he breathed, “I want to feel you come. I want to make you scream.”

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Serving the Party (Discipline Exhibition Humiliation and Menage)

Melissa thought the maid agency job would get her a steady paycheck, but it’s come with a whole lot more than a few cleaning duties. The days of fighting it – if she ever really wanted to fight it – are over. She’s Mr. Rochefort’s toy. She wears what he wants her to wear, does what he wants her to do, and acts how he wants her to act.

She might secretly enjoy the discipline sessions when she makes a mistake, but she’s grateful that so far he hasn’t pushed her limits. But when he tells her that at his next party she’ll be serving more than drinks, she has a feeling things are about to change.

Reader Advisory: This story is for mature audiences only and features intensely erotic situations, sexy billionaires and the young, submissive maid they take as a plaything, forced exhibition, public humiliation, discipline, dominance, and rough group sex. All characters are 18 or older.


When I returned with a coffee tray in one hand and a platter of dark cake in the other, the room had fallen silent. I carried my offerings over to Mr. Rochefort, who glanced at them briefly in approval.

“Excellent,” he said, his eyes not on the food but on me. “A little closer now.”

I stepped forward obediently.

“It’s our job as hosts, you and I, to make sure our guests don’t get too bored, isn’t it?” he asked.

I nodded hesitantly.

“I knew I could count on you,” he said smiling. He withdrew from his pocket a pair of fabric scissors and beckoned me a final step closer to him.

Standing helplessly with my arms full of delicately balanced platters, I could only stare down in dawning shock as he reached out and cut down the bust of my already skimpy outfit. He pulled the discarded fabric away, letting my breasts to settle soft and naked out into the open. I looked between him and my bared chest in shock, my mouth slightly open in amazement and chagrin.

Before I could entirely process what had just happened, his hand reached up the short length of my skirt, hooked into my panties, and drew them down my thighs, into full sight of the room, and then let them fall to my ankles.

I stared down at them in turn, paralyzed.

“You’re a good actor, Melissa,” he said, gesturing at the prominent wetness in the crotch of the panties. “I almost couldn’t tell how much you were enjoying all of this.”

“I – ” Words failed me.

He gestured. “Well, serve the guests. Don’t be rude, now, Melissa.”

Slowly, I turned back to my captive audience, my face scarlet and my heart pounding in my chest. In little steps constrained by the panties around my ankles, I began serving coffee and dessert.

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