Domestic Discipline Bootcamp Novels & Stories

To give me an edge on my college entrance exam, my parents spend a fortune on a lifelike "study buddy" robot. The day the robot walks through the door, every hobby I have gets the axe. Dad calls my screen time a waste of my life, and Mom decides I can't even eat as efficiently as the robot. My twin brother, Charlie Hartman, piles on, "What do you even do besides drag this family down?" I snap and yank out the robot's charging cable. Mom loses it, grabs me by the hair, and slaps me across the face. "That robot is your role model. If you had half its discipline, I wouldn't be getting called into school by your teachers every other day! "Get yourself to that military boarding academy and l

I took his number and tried to ignore it for a few weeks until I gave in and went to see him. So now every week I go to see this man who digs into my thoughts and usually insults me but I keep going because he introduced me to bdsm. I did two months of training with the man who owns the club, Marcus Carlisle. He wasn't very easy on me, he made me try all sorts of things that I want to do to submissives. I let him deepthroat me, I let him whip me, I even let him put a sound into my dick. I drew the line at fucking me, I used a safeword when he tried to do that. He gave me a lot of rules and a lot of warnings and if I don't follow those I get kicked out. Which seems fair enough for me.

“Thank you.” ​ I reached for the papers again once the door came to a close. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” I scoffed in disbelief, seeing my full legal name in bold. I knew not a single thing about the asshole, but he knows everything about me, literally. ​ My eyes skipped through the nine-page document, catching phrases that made my blood boil even more with each line. ​ Submissive agrees to obey… ​ Outfits subjected to Dominant’s approval… ​ Disciplinary measures, including but not limited to spanking, orgasm denial, loss of privileges, and other corrective measures as deemed appropriate by the Dominant…

he murmured to himself, as the hot wind carried the scent of mangroves and asphalt. The academy wouldn’t be just another fighting gym. It would be a refuge. A free space for young people between 13 and 21 in at-risk situations. Boxing, jiu-jitsu, and Muay Thai would be on the curriculum, yes. But the real training would be something else: emotional discipline, anger control, emotional intelligence, group therapy, and individual mentoring. Elias had invested almost all the money he had saved from his years in the organization—dirty money that he now wanted to clean through good.

If I got away with just some deep muscle bruising, I would finally take Talia up and join her Krav Maga classes. "Willow, look at me," Dom ordered. His voice was hard and gruff. I turned to look at him, my gaze hard. "You could take a half. Even a quarter. That much isn't going to take you back down that path. We would monitor it for you. No one else."

"I have every reason to overthink after the dream I got yesterday, Danish. Please, don't! Don't ask about it." Danish laughed, "I won't. But please sit down. I’ve been meaning to speak with you about something since I brought you here." Vera had almost walked over to the door. After catching on Danish's words, she returned to her seat and wiggled her eyebrows at him. "What is it?" Danish removed a brochure from the drawer of his desk and gave it to Vera. "Some neighboring packs's Alpha and I had a meeting and we've been planning to organize a training camp for children, mostly four to ten years in age. The camp is going to be about teaching them about the basics of self defense. It's going t

' I demanded, 'untie me at once! 'Sorry,' Adam said, 'I'm afraid we can't. You see we've been sent out here this weekend for a sort of assertiveness training. One of us was going to be chosen to serve the others, but while you were asleep John came up with the idea that we could really assert ourselves by using you instead of one of us!' 'What do you mean?' I stammered, struggling to get out of my bonds and drawing my legs up ready to kick the first person that came near me.

Pack members hovered near windows facing outward, pretending they were not waiting for bad news to break through the glass. I pushed through the side door and crossed the grounds. I heard the training ground before I reached it. The relentless sound of impact. Rhythmic. Mechanical. The rhythm of someone punishing himself far beyond any normal drill. I stepped through the gate and stopped. Dominic was at the far corner, hitting the strike post with bare fists. Jacket discarded on the floor. Sleeves rolled up. His movements were raw and driven by something that had nothing to do with training. This was not discipline. This was the discipline of a man trying to destroy something because the rea

Everyone who had been watching from behind started talking. "Christine's so hot. Peter made the right choice picking her." My face went bright red. I didn't know what to say. Luckily, Peter told us to officially start the class right then. The whole point of the Wife Training Camp was to teach us how to become proper wives and train our bedroom skills so that our husbands would stay completely devoted. After running through the theory, Peter moved on to the hands-on part. He had me kneel on all fours on a yoga mat so the other students could watch how to shake their hips until they jiggled like Jell-O.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen. My daughter said she stole it, I reacted. I promise I’ll do better!” Minister Shay laughed low and cold. “When I built this orphanage, it was to protect these children. Discipline them lightly, not brainwash them into thinking bleeding from whips is normal.” She sat heavily in a chair, furious. My gaze sharpened. Just as planned. (EARLIER,) “Go on,” I said calmly, stretching my hands forward. My eyes flicked to Dominic. 'The Room.' He understood immediately and slipped away. “But first,” I added sweetly, “I need to use the bathroom.”