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

The Red Spot Press

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.
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About the author

I love a good story, a hot scene, or a great character. Writing and reading of all kinds have always been my first passion, and nothing is more rewarding than getting to share that passion with others. Hopefully I can bring a bit of extra pleasure into your day.

If I've succeeded, please let me know! Feedback is always appreciated, either as a review or just getting in touch. Check out my website at <a href='></a> to get more info, join my mailing list or sign up for my ARC team!
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Additional Information

The Red Spot Press
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Published on
Jul 22, 2016
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Best For
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Fiction / Erotica / General
Fiction / Romance / Erotica
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Content Protection
This content is DRM protected.
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Disavowed by those he swore to protect…


Tennessee Smith is a wanted man. Betrayed by his government and hunted by his former employer, he’s been stripped of everything he holds dear. If the CIA finds him, they’re sure to take his life as well. His only shot at getting it all back is taking down the man who burned him. He knows just how to get to Senator Hank McDonald and that’s through his daughter, Faith. In order to seduce her, he must become something he never thought he’d be—a Dom.


Overcome by isolation and duty…


All her life, Dr. Faith McDonald has felt alone, even among her family. Dedicating herself to helping others and making a difference in the world has brought her some peace, but a year spent fighting the Ebola virus in West Africa has taken a toll. She’s come home for two months of relaxation before she goes back into the field. After holding so many lives in her hands, nothing restores her like the act of submission. Returning to her favorite club, Faith is drawn to the mysterious new Dom all the subs are talking about, Master No. In the safety of his arms, she finds herself falling head over heels in love.


Forced to choose between love and revenge…


On an exclusive Caribbean island, Ten and Faith explore their mutual attraction, but her father’s plots run deeper than Ten could possibly have imagined. With McKay-Taggart by his side, Ten searches for a way to stop the senator, even as his feelings for Faith become too strong to deny. In the end, he must choose between love and revenge—a choice that will change his life forever.


A Masters and Mercenaries Novel by Lexi Blake
Reader Advisory: This story is for mature audiences only and features intensely erotic situations, bdsm play, humiliation, discipline, multiple partners, forced exhibition, submission and dominance. All characters are 18 or older.

Jennifer's dominant, Robert, has applied for the two of them to become members in the highly exclusive Tremboix Society, a BDSM network of the city's most powerful and influential. Though Robert Daniels surely falls within that category, he agrees that they must go through the Tremboix's rigorous screening process. Rather than questionnaires or resumes, the Tremboix uses only one metric to assess potential couples: the worthiness of the submissive. So it is that Jennifer finds herself standing alone before a gathering of the city's most powerful and sexually dominant men with only one task: obey.

"Any woman can give in to a little rough sex," he went on. "A firm hand or even a couple tight knots and most women think they've learned what it is to give in and submit."
His hand brushed upwards from my hip, caressing the side of my breast almost imperceptibly, and then ran back down and out over my sensitive stomach. He felt me trembling in his hands - felt each little, automatic response to every contact he made with me. The hand rose again and cupped my right breast, teasing at the nipple ever so lightly. I felt myself thrusting my chest into his hand, begging for more substantial stimulation, but his hand withdrew in just far enough to maintain its infuriating lightness.
All the while, the other hand worked its delicate touch up my thigh, claiming my body as his one inch at a time.
As he continued to speak, his tone became quieter and more seductive, almost hypnotic. "But me, I can tell when a woman is truly, utterly powerless. It doesn't have anything at all to do with ropes." The tips of his fingers brushed the lace of my panties.
"Do you know what I mean, Jennifer?"
"Yes," I gasped. I felt paralyzed by need, not just his touch but his orchestration. He was playing my body, and every note seemed to match a perfect harmony I had never listened for before. All the while it seemed that the air I breathed was of nothing but his scent, issuing me deeper into his world of physical bliss.
"Yes, sir," I repeated slightly less breathlessly in an attempt to hide my state from the onlookers. Jack, of course, knew precisely what he was doing to me. There was no concealing this experience from him. I would be safe in his arms, his touch told me. I could let myself go.
Reader Advisory: This story is for mature audiences only and features intensely erotic situations, bdsm play, humiliation, discipline, punishment, forced exhibition, submission and dominance. All characters are 18 or older.

Her submission is personal, but her humiliation will be public ?
His to Expose contains three stories of submission and dominance, forced exhibition, humiliation, and discipline.

The See-Through Outfit
Since coming to live with her dominant Robert, neglect and boredom have become things of Jen's past. When she finishes her to do list and goes to him for a little excitement and attention, little does she know that he has in mind will bring her as much excitement and attention as she will be able to handle. Although Robert begins their outing by bribing Jen with a gift from a sex shop, he is well aware that she secretly enjoys his hobby of putting her in compromising and often humiliating public situations. Her secret's safe with him, of course, but as for the rest of what she might try to keep covered up ? it's all fair game.

Robert has found a new toy, and he believes he has a way to program it so that it will measure a woman's arousal. When he catches Jen ogling a group of male models across the street from where they are having dinner, he decides to bring her in on his little experiment. If she can control herself and her body's responses while sitting through a male underwear fashion show, she'll be free to spend the rest of her vacation exactly how she wants. Eager to please and a little tipsy, Jen boasts that the challenge will be easy, but Robert knows her too well. For each threshold you pass on the thermometer, he adds, you take off a piece of clothing right there and then. Jen agrees, secretly turned on by such high stakes, but she knows that if she isn't careful, arousal and humiliation will form a compounding feedback loop that will leave her the center of an impromptu exhibition more than sufficient to steal the show.

Unfair Comparisons
Jen's partner Robert has always been a gentle and forgiving dominant, often indulging her whims and preferring to let her play her part rather than resort to harsh discipline or exploit her naturally trusting ways. But Jen's obedience has begun to slip, and Robert is forced to accept that a change is needed. To begin anew, he invites a fellow dominant and his submissive to dinner, thinking that their much stricter relationship might provide the eye opener he is loathe to inflict directly on his supposedly fragile submissive. Jen is excited at the prospect, but soon realizes that the evening will be far more intense than she is prepared for. As the night escalates, she will find herself torn between her natural reservations and the need to prove herself an equal of the visiting submissive in the eyes of their men. In shockingly little time, the drive to prove her devotion and obedience will have her doing things she never thought she could do ? and still falling short.

"Jen?" I heard his voice call out softly.
"Here, sir," I said through the crack.
"Pass me out your clothes, please."
I squirmed as conflicting emotions of dismay and excitement fought within me. He didn't want to give me any choice. He didn't want me to see what he had picked out for me until I had already committed and until I couldn't say no.
Reluctantly, I folded my skirt and blouse and passed them under the door.
"Panties and bra, too, Jen," he insisted.
A knee-jerk objection caught in my throat and I stared helplessly at myself in the little changing room mirror. I didn't know if I was ready for this, and yet ... I trusted him. It was so much easier to just be his, do what he wanted and lose myself in the aftermath, good and bad, without any of the responsibility. It felt so good, being his, that it almost didn't matter. What happened happened.
"Yes, sir," I said, not trying to hide the quaver in my voice. In the end, I always did as he asked, but I wanted him to know that this prospect frightened me more than a little.
I stepped out of my panties and unclasped my bra, trying to imagine myself in the comfort of our home and not in the back of an unfamiliar department store with nothing to cover myself.
"Thank you," he said as he took the precious garments from my proffered hand. There was a rustling, and then a little bundle replaced them under the door frame.
I picked it up and waited for more. Perhaps it just looked small. I unrolled the cloth and spread it on the bench. My heart sank. What I had at first taken for one garment was in fact two. The tank top was simple, unadorned, and very thin. When I rolled the cloth in my hand, I could see my fingers on the other side. Folded inside the top was a skirt. The fabric was a bit thicker, but it was so short that it did not stretch more than halfway from my wrist to my elbow. I looked at them in dismay, and turned back to the door.
Reader Advisory: This story is for mature audiences only and features intensely erotic situations, bondage, wax play, motorcycles, submission and dominance. All characters are 18 or older.

Julie's night shift at the Marky Mae's diner in Brawley is usually a pretty boring one, but when a group of bikers begin stopping in on their runs from Escondido to Yuma things begin to get a lot more lively. It's the leader of the group whose eye she happens to catch, though she'll never know exactly why, and before she knows it she's on the back of a Harley, blaring through the streets of her sleepy town. But when her biker offers to teach her what it is to live dangerously and surrender control, that little evening ride becomes the most mundane of her new experiences.

I feel a finger brush against my cheek and I jerk back to look at him, a thrill at the contact running through me and paralyzing me as he looks at me. "I could show you, if you want," he says.
My breath has gone sort of shallow in my chest as I look at him. "You could?" I breathe.
He catches a strand of my hair and tucks it behind my ear. His smile isn't so much mischievous, now. "Sure," he says.
I realize I'm sort of leaning forward now. The night is so quiet around us.
"What - what do you have in mind, then?" I ask.
He sprawls back even more luxuriously on the bike's handlebars, lips pursed in teasing speculation and running those blues eyes over me, head to toe. Now they do linger, the way I was wishing they had back in the diner.
"It wouldn't be on a motorcycle," he says.
"Oh yeah?"
"But I think you'd like it even more."
I turn my head sideways looking at him, my lower lip between my teeth. "It sounds like I would."
"I'll take us back then," he says. "You keep a firm grip."
He slides back into the seat in front of me and I clasp my hands around him. Holding onto the back of him is an underrated part of this experience, I'm thinking. His ass his tight and firm between my thighs and I press myself against his broad back.
We take off again. The rubber squeals on the pavement for a moment and then we're catapulting forward with a roaring in the air around us that rattles every pebble we pass by.
It takes us maybe twenty minutes to run back over our same ground. I start to recognize the ways he lets go, the way he sort of releases control as he leans over and lets gravity take over as we come around a turn at top speed. There's a sort of beautiful anarchy about the motion.
This time I don't mind as much when the neon of the motel lights starts approaching fast from the horizon in front of us. Instead, the sight sends a thrill of excitement through my body.
Kent ducks inside the lobby and gets his key from the receptionist. I peer into his side mirrors and try to straighten my hair, but it's pretty hopeless at this point.
We roll around back and he slings his saddlebag over his arm, leading me up the stairs to a room on the balcony.
"Sit on the bed," he tells me when we get inside. "I just need to find a couple things."
I sit obediently and watch him as he rifles through the bag. He pulls out a chain lock and sets it on the ground with a cascade of heavy clinking. He digs a bit more and pulls out a grey bandana that he extracts with an exaggerated flourish.
"Hold still," he tells me, approaching with the bandana. I jerk in surprise and move to stop him as he begins to tie it over my eyes. "It's alright," he says. "You'll like this."
"Are you sure?" My trepidation momentarily overcomes my need to impress him.
"Trust me," he says.
I hold still and he knots the bandana in place. The light disappears and I am blind, helpless, listening to the sounds of the room as he steps back from me.
"Alright, I'm going to go wash my face. Don't go anywhere."
I make an expression at where I think he probably is, but I don't know whether he notices. I listen as he walks off across the carpet and then hear the sound of running water coming from the bathroom.
I take a deep breath. I am both asking myself and trying very hard not to ask myself just what exactly I've got myself into.
Reader Advisory: This story is for mature audiences only and features intensely erotic situations, bimbofication, the use of potent aphrodisiacs, a highly erotic medical examination, body transformation, multiple partners, group sex, anal sex and double penetration, submissiveness and dominance. All characters are 18 or older.

A wiretap has finally managed to implicate crime boss John Cheever, and Officer Katie Topaz is the smug cop who'll be bringing him into the station under charges of possessing a powerful and highly illegal aphrodisiac. But when a staffing problem leaves the precinct headquarters empty, Katie gets stuck guarding the holding cells until the bail hearings in the morning.

It's been a long shift, and she can't pretend she's not a little curious what's so special about these little pills that the notorious man was willing to risk jailtime to have them in his penthouse. It won't hurt to just look at them a little, will it? But when curiosity trumps her better judgement, she quickly finds out she's in for a lot more than she bargained for, and all sorts of very bad ideas start to sound sort of like good ones.

Before she knows what's happening, new feelings have drowned out the little voice that says no and her urges have pushed her into the arms and at the mercy of the crime boss and his cell mates, who are more than happy to help her fill her sudden cravings ...

Now she was in his grasp, controlled by him utterly. His fingers knew her body so impossibly, impossibly well. Every touch and stroke and caress seemed the single most important thing that had ever happened to her. She pressed against the bars, trying to will herself through them and into the arms of this man she so desperately wanted to give herself to.

There wasn't room for any other thought but that simple, driving desire. It felt like she was the one in jail, held back by these awful metal bars from the only place in the world she wanted to be. But something, some distant residual memory, held her back.

"I can't," she repeated, though by now the only thing she could remember about what she couldn't do was that she wanted to do it anyways. "I shouldn't."

His fingers ran down her smooth, trembling stomach and paused tantalizingly. "We all do things we shouldn't do," he murmured. "Isn't that where all the fun is?"

"Couldn't I just –"
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