Kept between you, and provably so.

There is no server in the middle of this app deciding who may see what. Every question of the form may this person read this row is answered by the database itself, on every request, regardless of what the app on your phone believes about itself.

That distinction is the whole of it. A rule enforced by an app is a rule that holds until somebody uses something other than the app. A protocol you have hidden from your Dominant is not merely undrawn — it is unreadable. A connected calendar you have not shared is not filtered out on the way in; it never leaves the database.

Rules enforced only in the interface are not enforced. They are a request.

Limits, safewords, aftercare, the things that are never on the table — written down and kept where both of you can find them, rather than in a conversation you had once and remember differently.

Alongside them, the dates that matter, and where the two of you stand: a status you move between by proposing and agreeing, so nobody arrives at a new understanding of the relationship on their own.

Pausing takes one tap and needs nobody’s approval — not the Dominant’s. New assignments and enforcement stop; check-ins and journals stay open, so you can carry on looking after each other while nothing is being asked of anybody.

Ending is the same: available to both of you, at any time, from your own profile. Even somebody who has been shut out of the app entirely can still reach the way out of a relationship — which is deliberate, and is the sort of thing that has to be decided in advance rather than discovered.

One account can hold more than one relationship, and they do not leak into each other. Different rules, different protocols, different history — and a different colour, so you know which one you are looking at before you have read a word on the screen.

Some things follow the person rather than the relationship: your wardrobe, and the two logs nobody should have to type in twice. Those survive a partner change, because they were always yours.

Anything you wrote can be redacted — your words come out and the record of the event stays, which is the honest version of deleting something two people were part of.

Everything you have is exportable in one action. And deleting your account deletes it: the rows, the photographs in storage, and the references to you scattered through the parts your partner keeps. What survives is what was about them — their own writing does not vanish because you left.

Notifications can be made discreet, so a lock screen gives nothing away to somebody standing beside you, and quiet hours hold them back entirely. Any part of the app you do not use can be switched off — for you, in this relationship, without deleting anything and without deciding it for the other person.

The Dynamic is for consenting adults aged 18 or over, and everything in it assumes a relationship that is negotiated rather than imposed. Being able to pause, to end, to redact, to speak during a pause and to end a lock-up from the inside are not features bolted on beside the rest — they are the reason the rest is safe to agree to.