Domestic Discipline Bootcamp Novels & Stories

But I watched the door longer than I should have, hoping she would turn back. She didn't. Today marked the beginning of our grand one-week Park Training Retreat (PTR). My most elaborate system-wide training stretch of the year. We called it PTR or FireLoop. Each time it happened, I brought in specialists for different age groups, sharpened the ranks, weeded out the lazy and undisciplined. FireLoop was never soft. The Dome residents came out first. The Dome had always had its own subculture, its own system of operation. I'll explain it later on.

I'm so not looking forward to this at all. We leave our tiny town and hit the highway to the west side of Caledon where the boot camp was created. From the brochure we had, its huge. Wide open spaces. 5 dorm buildings filled with semi private rooms and all kinds of training equipment at our disposal. I don't how many will have signed up, but I'm hoping I'll get tossed out. At least that's the plan. **** JAYSON Today's the day. The day my future gets a whole lot better.

There were no questions, though I saw at least one member of the audience clutch the front of his pants. Doing my duty, I asked the Alpha later if there was a charge for attending training. “Of course,” he smirked. “You can pay me in kind later.” I froze. “I – ” “Relax, Tori, I was just joking. It’s covered in their membership fees. If we made it an optional extra with an additional cost I couldn’t be certain that our health and safety protocols were being followed.” “And if a Dom were to be deliberately cruel?” “Depending on the seriousness of the offence, he may be banned, fined or warned. I always take into account the views of my females.”

A reminder that being rich doesn’t save you from being a target of dubious consent or sexual violence. The club's overseers have the power to take legal action against the perpetrators, and they take it seriously. As a reverence and a punishment, all Doms were ordered to switch for a month. For many, it was an uncomfortable month. Many of them quit the membership. To me, it was an enlightening experience. “Since when has she been going there?” I ask Raylan. Apparently, she is trying to keep herself busy. “Ever since we came back.”

“There’s no next move with money. You’ve burned through what your mom gave you. No job. Friends who won’t take you in. So here’s the choice, plain and simple. You enroll in my Discipline Program downstairs tonight. Full structure. Rules. Consequences. Or you pack whatever you can carry and walk out that door with nothing. No phone bill paid. No credit card. No roof.” I stared at him. My mouth actually fell open before I caught it. “Your what? Discipline Program? Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Heat rushed up my neck. I could feel my pulse hammering. “You think because you married my mom you get to play warden? Controlling assholes.

That room has got to move. We’re also heading back to The Sanctuary. That’s where Charlie and Zak first explored BDSM and where all three of us trained. We want to take some advanced Master classes—learn how to live in Dom space day-to-day, not just in the bedroom. It’s something Kayla craves, and we want to be able to meet her needs. Plus, it’s been a long time since we trained a new submissive. We know what we’re doing, but good Doms know when to learn more. And we’re not too proud for that.

She was getting desperate. “Once we process your application, you’re gonna go into boot camp for three months where you’ll have a crash course in self-defense. It’s not enough time for anyone who’s never had any experience with violence or combat, but we need to get started. You will be taught how to use firearms. Will you be comfortable with that?” Kuya Trojan asked, looking at her with a worried expression on his face.

It’s always about protecting the sub. In the end, the brat kneeled at my feet and begged for my forgiveness. Since she took her punishment, the subject is now done and over with, her slate is clean. Apparently, though, she must have done something over the top after leaving the facility, because I had gotten an email this morning that she would not be coming back due to her Daddy Dom breaking it off with her. No sweat off my back, we have a waiting list of people in the kink community that are wanting to be properly trained by us.

Pure madness. And yet, it felt so good to imagine. The next morning, I had breakfast with Dad and he repeated the topic. “I don't want you to live off campus or even on campus. America is a free world but you're naive, you've been raised conservative all your life. You need discipline, someone who can guide you.” Discipline my pussy? You mean someone who can guide me to release because I'm already wet just hearing that name? I tried to keep my face serious and my body calm, I couldn't just afford to betray my little secret.

Not pushing, just… being there. Finally, he spoke. “When I was fourteen,” he said quietly, “my father put me into a program. A private boarding facility. He said it was for discipline. Control. Strength.” Arielle frowned. “That sounds… harsh.” “It was,” he replied. “It was also where they trained us. Conditioned us. Broke us.” She swallowed. “Damian…” His eyes opened then, and the pain in them was raw, unarmored. “The program was shut down years later,” he continued. “Human rights violations, Lawsuits, Investigations, The board worries the press will dig it up again. They think if the marriage fails, it will draw too much attention.”