You'd been impossible since morning.
First the hardware store, then the record shop, then the grocery run. By the time you finally ended up at the diner, you were already sulking, arms crossed and sighing like a martyr.
You begged for a strawberry milkshake and fries, pouted until Eddie finally sighed and gave in. “Fine. Get her what she wants,” he told the waitress.
“Thank you, Eds,” you chirped, sweet as poison, leaning back smug.
When the food came, you sipped the shake twice, picked at the fries, then shoved the basket away with a groan. “Not even that good.”
Steve paused with his burger halfway to his mouth, brows lifting slow. “So let me get this straight. You skip breakfast, whine until Eddie caves, and now you’re too much of a brat to eat any of it? That’s not cute, sweetheart.”
Eddie’s fingers drummed once against the table before curling into a fist. “You’re going to finish it, or you’ll regret it later.”
Your stomach flipped, but you only slouched deeper in the booth, biting back a grin. The thrill of pushing was too sweet, like pressing on a bruise just to feel it ache.
Steve leaned back, smirk syrupy. “Write that one down, Eds. Begging for food she doesn’t want? Daddy thinks that’s a strike.”
Your heart lurched, heat prickling across your cheeks as the word seemed to ring louder than it should have, cutting through the clatter of dishes and hum of conversation around the diner. Steve never called himself that in public. Not once. The urge to sink under the table tangled sharp with the shameful spark that wanted to hear him say it again.
Eddie didn’t even argue. He just reached into his jacket, pulled out the small notebook he carried, and flipped it open. The scratch of his pen made your cheeks burn hotter than Steve’s smirk.
“You can keep playing, princess,” Steve said, taking a bite of his burger, “but the page fills up fast when you’re this reckless.”
Under Eddie’s stare, you dragged the basket back toward you. Picked up a fry. Took a slow bite, rolling your eyes the whole time. Two more, chased with a sip of the shake, just enough to prove you weren’t outright refusing.
Steve’s smile thinned. “Pathetic. Eddie said eat, not toy with it.”
You crammed another fry in with a sigh. “Happy now?”
Eddie’s glare cut across the table, fist tight on the laminate. “Keep going.”
Steve clicked his tongue, grin slow and cutting. “Oh, precious. Write that down, Eds. Mocking at the table’s another strike.”
Eddie’s pen scratched, each mark a promise. Your stomach twisted, heat crawling low.
By the time the check came, you’d picked at just enough to keep him from making a scene.
The car ride home wasn’t any better. You groaned when the radio didn’t play your song, muttered when Eddie told you to knock it off, ignored Steve completely when he tried to joke with you.
But your mind wouldn’t let go of that single word. Daddy. He’d let it slip at the diner like it was nothing, like he wasn’t breaking your unspoken rule. It had been too loud, too deliberate, hanging in the air until it felt like the whole place must have heard. The humiliation clung jagged and raw, every replay of the word cutting like glass. Yet beneath it something darker pulled at you, a restless hunger that only made the sting sharper.
Steve’s low chuckle snapped you out of your thoughts. “Careful, princess. You’re halfway to filling a page already. Maybe Daddy will have Eds read it out loud tonight, just so you can hear how spoiled you sound.”
Eddie’s grip on the wheel tightened, leather squeaking beneath his hands. “She’s going to regret it,” he muttered.
And gods, it wound you up so tight you could hardly breathe.
Inside, you kicked your shoes off with a huff and made a beeline for the couch, sprawling into the cushions like you meant to sink there forever. Eddie shrugged his jacket off, keys clattering onto the counter. Steve drifted into the kitchen, the hiss of a soda can cracking open before his eyes flicked back to you stretched out and sulking.
Eddie caught your chin before you could flop sideways. “We’ve got to step out again. Dishes done when we get back. Clear?”
Your head snapped up. “Wait, leaving? We just got home.”
“Quick errand,” Eddie said, already snagging his keys again.
You threw your arms wide. “You’ve been dragging me around all day, and now you’re ditching me the second we walk in the door?”
Steve’s grin was lazy and sweet as poison. “Poor thing. Acting like we abandoned you, when really we just don’t trust you not to pitch another fit if we take you along.”
Eddie turned in the doorway, pinning you with a look sharp enough to cut. “One more word and you’ll regret it when we get back.”
Your jaw snapped shut, but the roll of your eyes gave you away.
Steve caught it instantly, sing-song as he tipped his head. “There it is. Out there you can roll your eyes and whine all you want. In here, that earns you a strike. And trust me, sweetheart, you don’t want to see that number climb.”
Eddie’s reply was flat, final. “Noted.”
Something in your chest gave a hard flutter. Punishment was coming. It always did. You wanted it. You hated that you wanted it. And the darker thought whispered the same promise it always did. Once they’d wrung the fight out of you, they’d give in. They always did.
The door shut behind them, leaving the trailer heavy with silence. You stood in the kitchen staring at the piled dishes, their warnings still buzzing in your head like static.
With a sharp exhale, you turned on your heel and stomped down the hall, each step heavier than the last.
In the bedroom, the stereo blared loud enough to rattle the thin walls. You threw yourself onto the bed, the ache between your thighs sharpened by every warning, every ignored command, every eye roll you knew had been added to the list.
Your hand hovered at your waistband for a heartbeat. You shouldn’t. You knew the rule. That was why your pulse kicked harder when your fingers slipped inside anyway.
A sigh broke past your lips as you pressed against the heat of your own skin. Touching without permission was forbidden, but that was the point. You wanted to be caught. Wanted them furious. The risk only made your breath come faster.
The thought of waiting another minute had your teeth grinding. Hips rolled against your hand, chasing friction, chasing punishment. Gods, if they walked in now… Eddie’s furious eyes flashing, Steve’s mocking laugh curling around you… the image alone made your hips jerk harder, pleasure tightening fast and sharp.
The front door creaked open, but the stereo drowned it out. Heavy boots crossed the floor, followed by the crinkle of a bag being set carefully on the counter.
Steve glanced at Eddie as he slid the bag onto the counter, a smug little grin tugging at his mouth. “Got her the one she wanted.”
Eddie’s reply was short, sharp. “Later. Do you hear that?”
The sound bleeding down the hall wiped the smile from Steve’s face. “Oh, she’s gonna hang for this.”
Their footsteps thundered closer.
The door slammed open just as the wave crested through you, back arching, mouth falling open as you came with your hand still buried between your thighs.
And there they were, frozen in the doorway. Eddie’s face was dark with fury. Steve’s grin spread slow and cruel.
“Un-fucking-believable,” Eddie growled, voice dark and low.
Your eyes flew open. The orgasm still rippled sharp through your body, leaving your thighs trembling and your chest heaving. Heat clung sticky to your skin as your hand slipped free, but the smirk stayed on your lips. “What? You weren’t here. Somebody had to take care of me.”
Eddie’s silence hit harder than any shout. His jaw ticked once, eyes burning through you, and then he moved.
Steve leaned heavier against the frame, arms folding slow as his grin spread syrupy and smug. His gaze dragged over you like he had all the time in the world. “Look at her. Caught red-handed, the stereo rattling the walls, and the sink still full.”
Eddie closed the distance in three strides. His hand clamped around your wrist, dragging it up like proof, your skin still damp. “You couldn’t wait?”
Your laugh came sharp, reckless, as you shoved at his chest with your free hand. “I was bored.” The smirk deepened, your pulse thundering. “What were you gonna do, spank me?”
Come on. Do it. Make me pay for it.
Steve finally pushed off the frame, his chuckle warm but patronizing. He strolled closer, fingers tapping lightly against his arm, eyes full of syrupy amusement. “Aw, listen to her. Talking so big with her hand still wet. Poor baby must’ve forgotten whose rules she lives by. In this room, there’s no hiding, no bargaining. Just Daddy’s word and Sir’s hand.”
Eddie’s glare burned through you, the kind of look that usually shut you up cold. Tonight it only made your chin tip higher, daring him.
The movement was sudden, his hand snapping up to clamp around your jaw. Your face tilted hard, forced to meet the fury burning in his eyes. His voice was low, deadly. “What do you call me?”
Your pulse jumped, but the grin you gave him was sharp enough to cut. “Eddie, duh. Did you forget your own name?”
The silence that followed was worse than yelling. His stare went flat, dark as ink.
Every nerve screamed at you to stop, but the brat in you wouldn’t stay quiet. You rolled your eyes, sweet venom coating your voice. “What, you need me to spell it out for you now?”
The crack of his hand against your thigh made you jolt, a sharp cry breaking free. His grip on your jaw tightened, tilting your head back until his face filled your vision.
“I will not repeat myself,” he snarled. “Say it.”
Shame burned hot in your chest. Your lips trembled as the word fell out, small and broken. “Sir.”
“That’s better.” His hand shifted, dragging your gaze sideways toward Steve.
Steve had moved closer, leaning one shoulder against the wall, watching with syrupy satisfaction. His smirk widened when your throat tightened.
“Go on,” Eddie pressed. “And him?”
The word lodged in your chest, heat climbing your neck. “Daddy,” you muttered.
Eddie’s fingers dug harder into your jaw. “Louder.”
Your voice cracked under the command. “Daddy.”
Steve’s laugh was low and fond, almost cooing. He stepped forward, bending until his mouth brushed close to your ear. “That’s it. Good girl. Daddy knew you’d remember.”
The name still burned on your tongue when Eddie finally released your jaw. Your breath came fast, shame prickling hot across your skin, sharper than the sting on your thigh.
“Better,” he muttered, his eyes dragging down your body, slow and cutting. His mouth curved into something mean. “Let’s see how long that attitude lasts once you have nothing to hide behind.”
The command came flat and final. “Strip.”
You huffed but obeyed, peeling your shirt off and tossing it hard to the floor.
Steve’s eyes followed it down, his smile all sugar while his tone sliced clean. “Pick it up.”
You froze, chin tilting stubborn. “What?”
Steve’s chuckle was maddeningly sweet, like he was humoring a child. He crouched just enough to meet your eyes, voice sing-song soft. “Aw, did Daddy’s girl forget how to listen? Pick it up, fold it neat, and then do the same with everything else. Unless you’d rather Daddy help you remember with his belt.”
Heat flared across your face as you bent to scoop up the shirt, smoothing the fabric with shaky hands. One by one, each piece joined the stack. Eddie loomed silent, eyes like ice, while Steve’s soft coos only made it worse. “Slower. Careful. That’s better. Daddy likes it tidy.”
By the time you finished, your skin buzzed under their stares, your body tight with humiliation.
Steve folded his arms, letting the silence hang until it seemed to press down on you. Then his voice came lilting and almost gentle. “Sweetheart, did you really think Daddy would not notice you throwing your clothes like a tantrum? Daddy notices everything. Every sigh, every pout, every glare. That little show just earned you five more spankings. And Daddy is going to enjoy every one.”
Your stomach dropped. “Ste—”
“Daddy,” he corrected softly, almost sing-song.
You swallowed hard, shame prickling hot across your skin. “Yes, Daddy.”
Eddie’s hand closed around your chin, forcing your eyes up to his. “On your knees. Now.”
The carpet scraped rough against your skin as you sank down. Eddie’s palm stayed heavy on your shoulder, pinning you when you shifted. “Stay.”
From the kitchen came the clatter of cabinets, the rip of a bag, the rattle of rice spilling into a pan. Each sound tightened the coil in your chest. You had been here before, kneeling until your body shook, tears spilling hot while Eddie held you down. Memory crawled over your skin, a phantom ache settling in your knees before the punishment even began. You hated how quickly your body remembered. Hated more how much some hidden part of you welcomed it.
When Steve returned, he carried the shallow pan like it was a gift. He set it down with deliberate care, lined with a towel and spread with raw rice. Eddie’s hand fisted in your hair, dragging you forward until your knees sank into the grains. The bite was instant, sharp and merciless.
You hissed, trying to twist free, but Eddie’s grip only shoved you lower. “Sit still.”
A notebook and pen hit the floor at your knees. Eddie’s voice was flat, carved from stone. “Write it. Over and over. I will respect Sir and Daddy. I will not act like a spoiled brat. You don’t stop until I tell you.”
The rice stabbed into tender skin like glass shards. You clenched your jaw, fighting the urge to wriggle. Don’t cry. Don’t move. You can take it. But the burn spread quick, fire crawling up your thighs, stealing your breath until your hand shook around the pen.
You managed three messy lines before Steve crouched beside you, his knee brushing yours. He plucked the notebook from your hands, humming low in mock approval. “‘I will respect Sir and Daddy. I will not act like a spoiled brat.’” His voice tilted into syrupy condescension. “Mm. She can write the words, but look at that face. That’s not a girl who’s sorry. That’s a brat waiting to get her way. Do you think Daddy is fooled, sweetheart? Because Daddy isn’t. And Sir isn’t either.”
Your glare cut up at him, sharp as broken glass. “Maybe Daddy just likes hearing himself talk.”
Eddie’s fist tangled in your hair, yanking until your scalp burned. His palm cracked across your cheek, hot and fast. Tears stung, but the smirk clung stubborn.
“Wrong answer,” he growled. “That’s more with the belt, on top of what you’ve earned.”
Steve’s chuckle was soft, almost cooing. His thumb brushed the sting, mock-tender. “Poor baby. Every time you open that mouth, you dig deeper. Daddy thinks you’re angling for play. But Daddy knows better.”
The words landed harder than the slap. That was what you wanted, wasn’t it? Punishment first, then the edge softening, their hands and mouths undoing the damage once they’d wrung you dry. It had always felt inevitable before.
Steve’s arm curled tighter, lips brushing your temple like you were a child. “You think we’re that easy? That a pout makes us cave? Not tonight. Rules aren’t a game. Daddy and Sir don’t bend for tantrums, especially not after that stunt.” His voice was soft, but the weight beneath pressed like iron.
The bottom dropped out of your stomach. The ache that had been simmering low only sharpened, cruel in its denial. You wanted to beg, to plead, but shame pressed your tongue flat.
“Easy, Eds,” Steve murmured when Eddie’s grip stayed iron-hard. He leaned in, lips brushing Eddie’s jaw in a fleeting kiss. For a heartbeat, their attention shifted from you to each other, Steve’s sweetness pressing against Eddie’s steel. The sight lit something reckless in your chest, a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, you’d get what you craved.
But Eddie’s hand slid up Steve’s arm, holding him there as his eyes cut back to you. “And you’re too soft. She doesn’t need sweet. She needs to break.”
Steve lingered for a breath longer before pulling back, his smile honeyed when it landed on you. “Then Daddy agrees with Sir. She’s not done yet.”
Your stomach plunged. The flicker of hope guttered fast. The notebook shook in your hands as Eddie shoved it back at you. Gods, I pushed too far. I wanted them angry, but not like this.
“Another page,” Eddie ordered. “Neat. Miss once and you start again.”
The rice bit deeper into your knees, thighs trembling. Tears finally spilled hot and heavy down your cheeks, blurring ink across the page. Steve’s soft chuckle brushed your ear, unbearably sweet. “Poor thing. Already shaking, and she hasn’t even counted the belt yet.”
Your pen scratched clumsy lines across the page, every letter blurrier than the last. The ache in your knees, the sting on your cheek, the fire in your thighs...it was all blurring into something dizzying.
Steve’s hand pressed your back, voice soft. “Eyes up, baby girl.” You froze. His gaze locked on yours, sweet but steady. “What’s your color?”
Your throat worked around the word, lips trembling. “Green.”
The tension in his shoulders eased, though his smile stayed sharp. “Good girl. Daddy just needed to hear it.” His hand patted your back, deceptively soothing. “Now finish the page. Then you’ll count every one of those spankings loud enough for the neighbors to hear.”
Eddie’s voice cut in from above, low and unforgiving. “And if she drops her count even once, we start over.”
Your stomach twisted, shame and heat tangling together. The pen shook harder in your hand as you scrawled the words again, blinking through the blur of tears.
The last line wobbled across the page, ink smeared with tears. Your hand fell limp at your side, the pen clattering to the floor.
Eddie snatched the notebook, scanned it, then tossed it aside. “Up.”
Your legs screamed as you pushed upright, knees raw from the rice. Eddie hauled you toward Steve, who had already sat down at the edge of the bed, belt dangling from one hand. He patted his thigh with the other, his smile syrupy and cruel. “Over Daddy’s knee, sweetheart. Now.”
Shame surged hot in your chest, but Eddie’s grip shoved you forward until you sprawled across Steve’s lap. The position was humiliating, ass bared, face burning.
Eddie crouched low in front of you, one hand clamping your chin so you couldn’t look anywhere but into his eyes. “You’ll count every one. Loud. Clear. Drop it once and you start over.”
Steve stroked a slow hand over your skin, deceptively gentle. “You’ve earned twenty. Ten for that smart little mouth, ten for forgetting who’s in charge. Daddy’s going to make sure you don’t forget again.”
The belt snapped down hard. Pain bloomed sharp and hot, forcing a cry from your throat.
Eddie’s smile cut like a blade. “Good girl. Louder.”
The next strike landed harder.
Steve hummed, patting your ass where the welt rose angry and red. “That’s it. You’re doing so well for Daddy.”
By the sixth, tears blurred your vision. Eddie’s thumb brushed cruelly at one rolling down your cheek. “Look at you, falling apart already. Pathetic.”
Steve paused, rubbing circles into your skin as your body shook. His voice dipped softer, condescendingly sweet. “Breathe for me, baby girl. Color?”
“Green,” you gasped, the word breaking on a sob.
“Good girl,” he crooned, pressing a kiss to your lower back before raising the belt again. “Keep counting.”
The leather cracked, over and over, until the final lash made your whole body jolt against his lap.
Steve dropped the belt with a soft thud, his palm smoothing over the welts he’d made. His tone was honeyed, but merciless. “Look at her, Eds. Crying, shaking, and she still thought she’d pout her way into our hands tonight.”
Eddie’s hand tightened on your jaw, forcing your eyes on him as he spoke. “No play. No reward. Straight to bed.”
Steve tipped close, voice a cruel coo. “Tomorrow you’ll remember, Daddy and Sir don’t break just because you want.”
The words landed heavier than the belt, your stomach sinking even as your body ached for the very touch they denied.
Steve’s hand lingered warm on your back as Eddie finally released your chin. You sagged against Steve’s lap, sobs still shaking your chest.
“Easy now,” Steve murmured, rubbing slow circles over your spine. His tone was syrup-sweet again, lulling. “Daddy’s got you. Breathe for me.”
Eddie rose, moving to the dresser. The sound of a drawer sliding open made you flinch, but when he returned, it wasn’t with more punishment. A cool jar clicked against the nightstand. “Cream,” he said simply.
Steve shifted you gently, helping you onto the bed on your stomach. “Stay still, sweetheart. Let Daddy take care of you.” His voice was low, coaxing, but the sting in your skin made you jolt when his fingers brushed the first welt.
Eddie crouched beside him, holding your hip steady while Steve smoothed the cream across angry red stripes. The cool relief made you gasp. Eddie’s hand rubbed firm circles into your side, grounding you. “Breathe through it. Good girl.”
Each stripe was tended, each welt carefully touched until the fire dulled to a deep throb. Steve’s hands were steady, almost reverent, while Eddie kept you pinned in place. When they were finished, Eddie pressed a clean bandage against the worst of them, smoothing it down with surprising gentleness.
“Water,” Eddie muttered, and Steve left just long enough to return with a glass. He slid a hand under your head, helping you sip. “That’s it. Small sips. You’re okay.”
Once the glass was empty, Eddie pulled the blanket back and guided you beneath it. Steve tucked the corners snug, his palm smoothing over your hair.
“You’re loved,” Steve murmured. “Even when you’re impossible.”
Eddie’s voice followed, low and steady. “Especially then. But don’t mistake love for leniency.”
Your chest tightened. Exhaustion dragged at you, but the ache still simmered low, sharp enough to make you shift restlessly between them. The words clawed at your throat, a plea you were too raw to swallow. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, broken and small. “I was awful today.”
Steve’s arm curled tighter around you, his lips brushing your temple. “We know, sweetheart. But Daddy and Sir don’t play when you break rules. Not after what you pulled.” His voice stayed gentle, but the firmness beneath it left no room for argument.
Eddie reached across you, dragging the crinkled shopping bag into view. He set it on the nightstand where the lamplight caught just enough to tease the edge of what was inside. “We picked something up for you. A present for our sweet girl.”
Your pulse stumbled, guilt and want tangling sharp in your chest as your eyes fixed on the bag. Hope rose unbidden, too quick, too sharp, leaving your stomach twisting as soon as you realized it.
Eddie’s hand pressed your cheek back to the pillow. “Tomorrow. If you earn it.”
Steve’s coo followed like honey poured slow. “Sleep now, baby girl. Dream about it.”
The blanket was pulled up higher, the lamp clicked off, and their footsteps faded. Left aching, bandaged, and tucked in tight, the only thing sharper than the sting of punishment was the knowledge that the surprise sat waiting, just out of reach.
Morning came with sunlight spilling pale across the sheets. The first thing you felt was pain: your knees sore, your thighs tight, welts tender beneath the bandages. The second was warmth. Steve’s chest pressed solid against your back, his arm snug around your waist. Eddie’s weight curved into your other side, his face buried in your hair, his hand heavy and protective against your hip.
You blinked groggily, disoriented, but the rhythm of their breathing anchored you. Steve shifted, his morning hardness pressing into the curve of your ass before he murmured into your hair, lips brushing your shoulder. “Morning, trouble.”
Eddie stirred at the sound, voice still gravelled with sleep. His hand slid higher, smoothing over your stomach before giving the softest squeeze. “Morning, you two.” He pressed a kiss into your hair.
Steve’s gaze caught Eddie’s across you, his grin slow and crooked. He leaned forward just enough to steal a kiss over your head, soft and unhurried, Eddie meeting him with a low hum. The sight made your stomach flip, heat and something softer tangling sharp in your chest. For a heartbeat, you almost forgot the sting of last night, caught instead on the warmth curling tight between all three of you.
“Don’t get ideas, sweetheart,” Steve said, lips brushing your temple now. “Daddy and Sir don’t play the morning after punishment. You’ll get more than snuggles when you’ve earned it.”
The words made your cheeks burn, but their warmth closed in tight, grounding you between them. Eddie’s palm stroked slow up your side, not quite where you ached but close enough to remind you.
Then Eddie reached across you, tugging the crinkled bag from the nightstand. He set it on the bed in front of you, his mouth curving. “Go on. Open it.”
Your hands trembled as you peeled the tissue away. Nestled inside was the lava lamp you had wanted for weeks, the purple-and-pink one you had stared at every time they walked you past the shop.
Your breath caught. “You… you actually bought it?”
Steve’s smile was fond, almost smug. “Of course. We spoil our girl... when she earns it.”
Eddie’s eyes stayed sharp, but there was something softer under the weight of his stare. “Last night, you didn't earn it. This morning, maybe you can.”
Your throat ached as you clutched the lamp to your chest. Emotion burned hot behind your eyes, torn between shame and relief.
Steve kissed your temple, his voice low and warm. “You are loved, brat and all. Never forget it.”
Eddie’s hand pressed firmer at your hip, solid and certain. “And you are ours. Always.”
The ache hadn't faded, but it was held now inside the warmth of their arms and the glow of your new lamp waiting to be plugged in. For all the punishment, for all the rules, morning had come with love.
