In writing, and never changed quietly.

Rules live in groups you name — around the house, in public, about your phone — because a flat list of thirty things is a list nobody rereads. Each one is a sentence. There is no scoring, no streak and no daily tick: a rule is not a chore, it is the shape of how you already live.

What makes them different from a note in your phone is that a change is an event. Add one, remove one or reword one and the other person is told — and a reword carries the previous wording with it, because the notification is the only record of what a rule used to say.

Nothing here can be edited in the night and presented in the morning as what was always agreed.

For a long time a rule could be written and then had no relationship with what actually happened — the app could not tell one kept perfectly for six months from one broken every day. A breach can now be reported, and either of you can report it.

The submissive owning up is the half that makes this belong in an app like this one rather than in a demerit tracker. It is stamped as self-reported so it can never blur into having been caught, and neither side can forge which it was.

A breach is then ruled on: acknowledged, dismissed, or talked over. The third is not a softer version of the first two — it opens the chat with the rule quoted, rules on nothing, and leaves the breach waiting. A conversation is not a decision, and an app that made you pick a verdict in order to have one would get fewer honest reports.

A consequence can be attached, drawn from a list you agreed in advance, and it is written into the record as it stood — so tidying that list later cannot rewrite what was actually handed down.

The things that are not standing rules get asked for. An ask is a sentence and a note; the answer is yes or no — or, far more usefully, something in between.

Yes, but be back by eleven.

Half of what a real answer looks like is a counter-offer, and with nowhere to put the “but” it used to end up in a comment while the request itself still said midnight was granted. So the Dominant can reshape an ask in the act of answering it — and only then. The original is kept and shown struck through, and the notification carries the wording that was actually agreed rather than the one that was asked for.

A yes can also have an end on it: tonight, an hour, or until a date. That, too, can only be set while granting — a yes that quietly became “yes, until Tuesday” a week later would already have been announced as an unqualified yes. Nothing sweeps it and nothing is revoked; the record simply stops overstating what was agreed, and reads “ran out” rather than “granted”.

Standing situations are the asks that come round — going out, staying over, buying something. Each is named once, and each can carry an instruction saying what a good ask for it looks like: always give me a return time, and ask before you leave.

That instruction is shown while the ask is being written, not filed somewhere to be looked up. A standard nobody reads at the moment it applies is a document, not a standard.

Every ask and every answer stays on the record afterwards, longest-waiting first so the one that has been sitting there is the one you see. A denied or expired ask offers to ask again, prefilled — because that is the moment somebody wants to.

A blank rules screen on the first evening is the hardest thing about starting. There is a shared library to take from — rules, tasks and protocols other people have written and contributed — so the first version of your arrangement is something you edit rather than something you invent.

Anything taken from it becomes yours immediately: reworded, grouped and applied however you like, with no link back to where it came from. It is a starting point, not a template you are stuck inside.