Page 19 of Daddy of the Mountain

"Well," he started, his voice slower now, thoughtful. "It’s part of it, yeah. DDlg is about power exchange, like most of BDSM. But it ain’t what most folks think when they hear those letters. It’s not all whips and chains or . . . whatever else people picture." He glanced at me, watching my reaction carefully.

"Okay," I said, nodding, encouraging him to keep going.

"DDlg’s more about emotional safety than all that flashy stuff," he continued. "Structure. Trust. Littles lean into feelin’ vulnerable, carefree. Bigs—Daddies or Mommies—we hold space for them. Protect 'em. Guide 'em."

"That sounds… different," I admitted finally. "In a good way. Maybe even a great way."

He didn’t say anything, just waited, letting the silence settle again. I appreciated that about him—how he gave space without pushing. Still, the weight of his attention made my skin prickle, like he could see straight through me.

"If I’m being honest, I’ve thought about BDSM before," I blurted, surprising both of us. I felt my face heat up, but I kept talking before I lost my nerve. "Not the hardcore stuff, just . . . fantasies, I guess? Being tied up, maybe. Or someone taking control. Nothing serious. It’s never gone anywhere." I shrugged, forcing a laugh. "Guess I didn’t know what I wanted."

He was so easy to talk to. Not even a hint of judgement or cruelty.

"Maybe you do now," he said quietly.

I swallowed hard, his words hitting deeper than I expected. Did I? My mind raced, trying to make sense of the knot tightening in my chest.

"Maybe," I whispered, almost to myself. I chewed on my bottom lip, staring at the firelight flickering on the cabin walls. "Honestly, though, I’m tired, Silas. Tired of being the one who has to hold everything together all the time. Work deadlines, bills, expectations... it’s like—" I broke off, shaking my head. "It’s like there’s no room left for me, y'know? No space to breathe."

"Yeah," he murmured. His voice was low, steady, grounding. "I get that."

"Do you?" I asked, glancing up at him sharply.

"More than you know," he said, his gaze unwavering.

Something in the way he said it made my chest ache again, but I didn’t press. Instead, I took a deep breath, letting it out slow. My fingers tightened around the edge of the blanket draped over my lap.

"Even though I’ve been keen to get back to my vacation, it’s been strangely nice having you look after me. It made me feel safe." My voice cracked slightly on the last word, and I hated how exposed it made me feel. “Do you think . . . do you think this ‘little’ headspace thing could help?" I asked hesitantly. "Letting go of all the stress, the pressure. Just . . . being taken care of for once.

Silas leaned back in his chair, his broad shoulders relaxing just a fraction. He studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he nodded, once, firm and sure.

"Yeah," he said. "I think it could."

“I think I want to try it.”

Silas’s eyes snapped to mine, sharp and assessing. His jaw tightened, the muscle there flexing beneath his beard. “Alana,” he said, low and steady, like he was picking each word carefully from a pile of broken glass. “I need you to be honest with me. Are you just saying all this because you feel bad for me? Or because it sounds . . . nice in theory?”

The weight of his stare pinned me where I sat. My fingers curled around the edge of the blanket again, gripping tight. “What?” My voice came out softer than I intended, barely more than a whisper. “No. No, Silas, that’s not—" I stopped, shaking my head hard enough to make a few fiery strands fall across my face. “That’s not it.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. It was like he was waiting for me to prove it.

“I wouldn’t lie about something like this. I’m not humoring you. I wouldn’t do that. I can’t fake interest in something so personal.”

His brow furrowed as he studied me, his silence stretching long enough to make my chest tighten. Finally, after what felt like forever, he let out a slow breath through his nose. The stiffness in his shoulders eased, just a little.

“Alright,” he said at last, nodding once. “Alright. But understand this, Alana.” His voice softened, but the edge of caution remained. “This only works if it’s real. If you’re truly drawn to it. Not just trying to please me. That’s not how this goes.”

“I know,” I said quickly, maybe too quickly. My hand pressed harder against my chest, like I could somehow anchor myself there. “I know that. It’s not just curiosity—I mean, I am curious, but it’s more than that. I want this, Silas. I want to try. To see where it leads. If . . .” I hesitated, biting my lip. “If it can give us both something we’ve been missing.”

The room fell quiet again, save for the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth. Silas leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his face before dragging it down to rest against his thigh. He looked tired, but not in the same way as before. This wasn’t weariness—it was deliberation.

“Okay,” he said finally, his tone lighter now, less weighted. “We’ll take it one step at a time. Set boundaries. Make sure we’re on the same page before anything else.”

I nodded, relief flooding through me. “Yeah, that makes sense. Boundaries are good.”

“Everything we try is optional,” he continued, leaning forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees. His gaze locked onto mine again, steady and grounding. “You can stop at any point. No questions, no guilt. Same goes for me. This only works if we both feel good about it.”

“Agreed,” I said, my voice firm despite the flutter of nerves in my stomach.

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