AUTHOR: T. A. BEAU

TITLE: Dad’s Brutal Reminder of My Place in the Mafia

SUBTITLE: A Hardcore Dad/Daughter Short Story with BDSM (whipped by chains, butt plug), asphyxiation, leash, and double penetration with a toy.

Copyright © 2025 T. A. BEAU

All rights reserved.

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the writer and the publisher.

WORD COUNT: 5100 words

I sigh, stepping out of my car and onto the hard pavement. I reach into the back of my Jeep and begin unloading the grocery bags out of the car. There are almost a dozen of them, but I got them all in two arms, not wanting to go on more than one trip. With a groan, I lock my door and begin to hoist them all up the stairs toward my apartment. It's a struggle, but at least I'm not going to go to the supermarket for a while.

My heart flutters as I get closer to the door, ready to see my boyfriend and our son. I sigh in relief when I open the door, already out of breath.

"Honey, I'm home!" I announce, kicking off my shoes by the entrance. A small smile appears on my face, but I don't see Tyler, and I don't get a response.

"Tyler? Honey?" I call out again, turning around the corner and freezing in my tracks. The first thing I see is the blood trickling down toward me, the bright crimson blending into my hardwood floors.

My eyes lift up, and the next thing I see is Tyler's body, the source of all the blood on the ground. He's lying face up, with his lifeless eyes staring up blankly at the ceiling, a bullet hole in between them.

It's like I'm watching everything unfold in slow motion, like I'm having an out-of-body experience.

The groceries slip out of my arms into a heap on the ground, but I hardly care about them right now.

"Tyler-" I gasp, rushing toward him but stopping when I see a familiar hulking figure in the middle of the room, dressed in his usual black suit and tie, with crisp black sunglasses, covering his eyes.

What is he doing here? Does that mean-

Oh.

A sudden wave of sadness washes over me as I take a step back from Tyler's body, realizing what is going on now. My eyes rake over his bronze skin, now turned pale, his brown eyes now shrouded by the cloak of death. He didn't deserve this. Another boyfriend dead, all because of my selfishness, just because I'm naive to think that I can live a normal life.

Then, a sudden rush of panic leaves me breathless. If Tyler's dead, what about Carlo? I run, narrowly avoiding Tyler's body as I try to get past Rex, who stops me from going anywhere, barely breaking a sweat.

"Let go of me!" I cry out frantically as I begin to struggle against his tank-like hold. "My son! I need to see my son!"

I can't see his eyes, but I can tell they’ve softened a bit after my words because he releases his grip on me and allows me past him. After all, Rex and I go way back as friends before he became a bodyguard.

I rush into my son's playroom and to his crib, where I see my father sitting on the chair beside it, rocking casually with my son in hand and a gun in the other. He coos at him, playing with the curious boy almost childishly.

My breath hitches in my throat as terror completely seizes me. My father, Enzo Coprani, is a very unpredictable man, and I don't know what mood he is in right now or if anything I do or say will make him tick. I swallow loudly, scuffling my feet against the floor before stepping into the room and making my presence known.

He glances up at me, his face freezing in a smirk. I swallow again, taking a good look at him now. He looks different from the last time I saw him. Of course, he does. It's been what? Three years?

His brown hair is no longer the chocolate color I'm accustomed to; now, it's an auburn shade, which fits him perfectly. He looks a bit older, with a few wrinkles on his face and little specks of gray in his well-groomed beard. He looks as handsome as ever, especially in his white dress shirt and pants, with a loose tie around his neck and some buttons undone.

"F-father-" my voice comes out in a breathy whisper, approaching him like he's a ticking time bomb, which he is.

He raises a brow and shakes his head in disapproval. "Rosy, Rosy, Rosy," he tsks, and I flinch at the sound, too tense for my own good. "Did you think that I wouldn't find you? Did you think running away to a far place meant that I couldn't bring you back whenever I wanted?"

My breaths become shaky and labored.

"I gave you a year to yourself. A year to fulfill whatever fantasies you had about the outside world."

A year. He gave me a year of freedom, allowing me to do whatever I pleased during a time of conflict in the mafia. I was pleased with that then, happy to escape all the drama, the killings, and the world I was born into. And that's when I met Tyler.

Tyler completely tilted my world off its axis. He made me experience things I've never experienced, pushed me out of my comfort zone, and showed me what it means to live and love. As the year of bliss slowly dwindled into its penultimate month, I decided to run away with Tyler.

It took some time, hopping from town to town, city to city, trying to get away from the mafia, but we finally got off their radar and decided to have a baby and build a family. But how naïve I had been.

"But you ran away. Or you thought you could. And you had a child with him," he chuckles briefly before the laughter morphs into a snarl. "And you dared to give what belongs to me to that-filthy rat," he says, pointing his gun toward my crotch. The fire in his eyes burns with promise, telling me that I'm in for a world of pain, but I feel that familiar throb in my pussy, hating myself for growing wet in such a fucked up situation like this.

But it's not my fault. Not even in the slightest. Dad did this to me. He conditioned me to be attracted to him, to want him. To take his big fucking cock till I'm crying and can't stop shaking from the force of my orgasm. The throbbing becomes more insistent, but I shake my head and force myself to be focused. Now is not the time for this. He's holding Carlo, and my son is my number one priority.

I move toward him rather quickly in an attempt to grab Carlo, and he quickly points the gun to my son's head, amusement flickering in his gaze.

"Ah, ah, ah. You really should know better, Rosy. Haven't I taught you well?" He grins.

"What do you want?" I ask finally, tired and desperate now.

He shrugs, removing the gun from my son’s temple, and I sigh in relief, but still holding my breath because he has the upper hand. "It's simple, really. I want you back home. But you really don't have a say in it.”

"I'll do anything. Please, just don't...don't hurt my son," I say, my voice breaking in the middle. I'm in a very hard spot right now. Now that Enzo knows about Carlo, I'm not able to leave or run as easily as I did, even if I had a chance to.

His lips quirk up, highly amused. "You're not in a position to demand anything of me, but...I'm not going to kill him anyway."

My shoulders sag in relief. If there's one thing I trust, it's my father's word. He doesn't back down from whatever he says, nor does he break any promises. That's his oath. "You're not?" I ask, a tad bit confused.

He scoffs. "Why would I want to hurt my grandson, the next Don? No no. We're going back to live together, where I can keep my eyes on him and train him properly. And the next Don of the cartel will not live..." he looks around, lips curling in disgust, "...in this squalor."

My shoulders slump in defeat. That's that, then. What can I say or do in a case like this? All my freedom, dreams, and plans are all gone now. Tears spring in my eyes.

"You should get ready and begin packing up your things. I'll be damned if I let you go out of my sight for one second," he says, standing up with a sleeping Carlo in hand. He must have gone to sleep, oblivious of the chaos around him. "But before that..." Enzo gently puts him in the crib. Then he takes very long strides towards me, closing the distance in seconds. I'm startled, but he holds my wrist in place. "You have to be punished for your behavior."

He yanks my hair back so hard that my scalp burns in pain. I yelp, and he tugs at it again, forcing my head back almost unnaturally. "If you wake that boy up, I'll make sure that you'll pay for it.”

I force myself to stay quiet despite the pain, nodding as best as I can. Long gone is the lighthearted Mafia boss that he is. Now, he's back to his usual sadistic and heartless self, a side that both frightens and arouses me at the same time.

Dad tangles my hair with his fingers, practically dragging me toward my room. He opens my door and pushes me inside. I stumble, and he shoves me down onto the floor. I lean up on my elbows and stare up at him. His eyes are dark and heavy, almost blown out with pure dark lust, as he shuts the door, not bothering to even lock it, though no one dare enter without his permission.

He pulls the tie off his neck and begins to undo his buttons, revealing the hard, toned, and muscular body underneath. Scars decorate his skin, some new ones and some old, each telling a story. He oozes off raw strength and sex, and my body betrays me, trembling at the sight.

"What are you still waiting for? Are you so dumb that I have to tell you to do every single thing?"

I shake visibly at his degrading words. Slowly, I begin to strip my clothes as well, reverting back to the woman who obeys her father's every command without question.

He pulls off his pants and reveals his big, throbbing cock, a furious red, pulsing in a way that makes my mouth water. He walks toward me, and before I can say anything, his heavy hands press down on my shoulders, forcing me to kneel, eye level to his cock. Pain shoots up my knee from it knocking against the floor, but that hardly matters in this case.