Page 25 of Daddy of the Mountain

"Yeah," he said, his tone flat. "You’re going to learn that today."

I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. My body betrayed me, trembling slightly despite the heat from the fire. But I nodded. I didn’t argue. Didn’t try to talk my way out of it.

Silas’s voice was low but firm. “Come here.”

My legs felt like jelly, but I obeyed. Slowly, I shuffled to where he stood by the chair near the hearth. The fire was little more than embers now, faint warmth licking at the edges of the room. My heart pounded so loud it drowned out everything else.

“Over my knee.”

I swallowed hard and did as he asked. I felt his thick thighs against my stomach. He was like a wall—solid, unyielding. My breath hitched when his hand settled lightly on the small of my back, not rough, but grounding. A pause lingered in the air, thick with tension.

"Hands underneath," he said, his tone brooking no argument.

Heat bloomed across my face, shame curling tight in my chest. I laced my fingers together under his knees. I felt entirely at his mercy.

"Alana," Silas said softly, almost a whisper. "I want you to know that when this is over, you are forgiven. Totally. I don’t hold a grudge. Okay?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good girl. If you relax into it, it won’t hurt as much. And remember, if it’s too intense, I want you to use your safeword. Red.”

“Okay.”

Before I could think of anything else to say, his hand came down. Once. Firm, sharp. Not unbearable, but enough to make me inhale sharply through my teeth.

"That’s one," he said calmly. No anger in his voice. Just disappointment. That stung worse than anything.

"Silas—" I started, but he cut me off with another swat. Tears welled up in my eyes, part from the sting, part from the weight of his words earlier.

"Two," he announced after the second spank landed on my upturned bottom with equal firmness as the first one had. "We're going slowly here." I heard it then—there was no anger but concern lacing through his stern tone; this was meant as correction rather than punishment alone.

And for me, it wasn’t just punishment. It was something else entirely. And with the third strike, it started to feel . . . delicious.

I was so in the moment I hadn’t realised that I was breathing heavily. Very heavily. My pussy throbbed. My legs shook.

Each spank was a jolt of electricity coursing through me, making my nipples harden and my core quiver. His hand felt like a brand against my heated skin, each swat more powerful than the last, but not painful—more like a feverish sensation that spread across my entire body. I whimpered as he continued to spank me, each sound escaping in little moans punctuated by silence.

"Are you okay?" Silas' voice was deep and soothing, breaking through the haze in my mind. "You can use your safe word at any time."

I shook my head, unable to form words past the moans escaping from me. This wasn't punishment; it was sensation. It was feeling alive in a way I hadn't felt for years. I needed this release, needed him to take control of me in the way he hadpromised. Every strike ignited another fire within me until I felt like I might combust from the sheer intensity of it all.

His hand continued its rhythmic pattern, each spank finding my bottom with sharp accuracy. My body arched to meet his hand, each swat sending a shockwave of pleasure-pain coursing through me. I moaned louder now, unable to hold back the sounds that escaped me as each twitch of sensation sent me higher and higher.

It hurt. It never stopped hurting. But it was intensely pleasurable, too.

And it was only when we finished that I realised I’d felt more present during the spanking than at any other time in my life.

By the time he stopped, my shoulders were shaking. I squeezed my eyes shut, tears slipping free despite myself. I expected him to step back, maybe deliver some stern lecture about safety and responsibility. But then I heard it—a ragged, broken sound. Barely audible, like he was trying to hold it in.

"Silas?" My voice cracked as I turned.

His shoulders were trembling. I looked up at him, and saw that his brown eyes were glistening, and a tear tracked its way down his weathered cheek.

"Goddammit," he muttered under his breath, swiping at his face like he could erase the evidence. "I can’t ... I can’t do this again."

"Hey," I said softly, stepping closer despite the ache in my ankle. He tried to turn away, but I reached out and grabbed his arm. "Don’t."

"Alana, let go," he rasped, voice barely above a whisper.

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