#moar growly murder panther

[girlpornparadise]

The Caged Bird Moans (pt 6)

Pairing: Diego Jimenez/f!Reader (Power - Starz)

Word Count: ~ 1700

Warnings:  It’s a bit Stockholm syndromey, but that’s not a real thing anyway (look it up). Not exactly non-con, but it skirts the idea, so if power disparities aren’t your jam, please move along. It just real dirty. SMUT!

Personal ramble: Would anyone actually react like this to the situation I’ve set forth? No. But just as the pizza guy is never hot and doesn’t offer you his extra sausage, this is porn people! So suspend your disbelief and don’t hate on me for my bullsh*t.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

You know you’re betraying your family name, and you don’t care. They’re the reason you’re in this mess to begin with. You wonder why you are still his prisoner but don’t really mind at this point. The families must be in some kind of pissing contest, full of machismo fueled exchanges and threat filled arguments.

No matter. You have run of the condo with no real desire to leave. He provides you only with his shirts from now on figuring you won’t try to escape with so little clothing and no shoes. He loves to see you in his shirts because you are cloaked in him and are unmistakably his. He leaves a plush blanket on the couch if you get cold and when you wrap it around you, you imagine his embrace.

When it’s time for business to be conducted you hide in the guest room. You turn the TV loud to drown out the arguments. You occasionally hear Diego’s aggressive demeanor above the din and it sends a bit of a thrill through you to be chosen by a man who commands so much respect.

A few more days pass and you swim in the ecstasy of being with him. The demands to take you over and over, on any surface, at any time. The beauty you find in every detail of his body. The genuine affection you have for him, but that he can’t reciprocate.

He comes into your room in the evening as you read a trashy mystery novel he had brought to you. You put the book down and perk up, excited to see him. You feel your body begin to buzz at the thought of him claiming you again.

His demeanor lacks its usual bravado though, and you find yourself filled with concern. His posture is slightly slumped and his arms fall at his sides without their usual forced tension.

He sits down next to you on the bed and puts his hand over yours, both now resting on your thigh.

“Oh my good girl.” he sighs. “I go to finalize your release tonight.” He looks genuinely saddened behind his usually stone-faced facade. 

You can’t help your sadness as tears threaten to well. He cups your face more gently than he ever has and looks deep into your eyes. 

“I could never keep you, my caged little bird.” His voice as soft as his gaze.

He plants a kiss on your lips, wet but almost chaste. He caresses your cheek and as a tear rolls down it, his thumb firmly brushes it away.

When you open your eyes, he smooths his hand over your hair, and crooks a small smile at you.

You reach out to his chest as he leans in to kiss you again. You scrape your hands across the soft fabric covering his broad surface and his lips seek yours, hungrily massaging them. You smile into his mouth as you feel his gruff facial hair brush against your chin.

He tenses and relaxes beneath your roving touch, his heavy breathing betraying the desperation he feels for you and you feel his chest rise and fall beneath your hands.

He cups your breasts through your shirt, feeling their warmth and weight in his hands and kisses you once more.

He shifts his weight and he lays you down gently on your back. And for the first time, he makes love to you. It’s not his usual aggressive, lust fueled peepshow. This time it isn’t a conquest, but a goodbye letter in physical form.

His hands are gentle as he caresses your skin. The bare inside of your forearm, the nape of your neck, the ridge of your collarbone. He pecks gentle kisses along your neck and jaw, and you close your eyes in a waking dream.

He unbuttons the shirt you’re wearing slowly as he watches your movements. The heave of your breasts under his strong hands makes his cock twitch inside of his pants. He opens your shirt and takes your breasts in his palms as he rubs them, circling his thumbs slowly across the sensitive skin. He takes your nipple into his mouth and swirls his tongue as it hardens beneath his heat. You sigh heavily.

As he pushes himself up off of the bed, you reach for the buttons on his shirt and work them open to release him from its confines. You drag your hands slowly down his chest, his abs, to his pants. You remove the belt and undo his fly.

As you release his straining cock he reaches down and discards his remaining clothing. You feel the warmth of the skin on his legs brushing against yours and his erection grazing against you as he positions himself over top of you.

He slides his hand between your wet folds and pushes two of his fingers past your threshold. As he drags them along your walls you roll your hips to his rhythm.

He’s watching your face this time, reading your twitches and whimpers, trying to decipher the key to your ecstasy.

He removes his hand and licks the slick off of his fingers. He holds his cock firmly and glides it into you slowly, agonizingly slowly so you feel every inch settling into you.

He rocks slowly and deliberately this time, savouring every moment inside of you. You grab desperately at him, never wanting to let him go. You are clinging to the moment and all of the heat, sweat, fire and passion passing between you. This brief eternity being precious to you both.

As he presses his hips more firmly against you, lingering in your depths, your pleasure crests and you exhale his name. This sends him over the edge and he empties his body into yours with a gentle final push.

You reluctantly release your grasp on him and let him fall to your side. Your eyes study him, trying to memorize him in this moment. He’s unguarded and radiates a peacefulness his lifestyle so rarely affords him. You both lay still for a moment, lost in each other’s breathing.

“You’re not the monster everyone thinks you are.” You gently say as you reach over and stroke his jaw.

“That’s our little secret.” He replies, those cheeky dimples melting your heart.

He kisses your forehead and gets up off the bed. He pulls on his boxers and pants. You watch him zip them up then he retrieves his shirt, which he buttons up and smooths down until he decides himself presentable.

As he leaves, he doesn’t speak, but he pauses at the door and looks at you longingly. With the slightest of nods, he takes his leave. You lay back looking at the ceiling as you try to untangle what you’re feeling from what is rational and true. The impossible knot has manifested itself in your stomach as a mangled ache. You try to breathe steadily and drift in and out of a dreamless sleep for a few hours.

When you wake, you sit on the bed, waiting anxiously for the next move. You picture Diego and his henchmen taking you blindfolded to an alley for some kind of hand-off. You decide you watch too many movies.

Suddenly an uneasy feeling hits the pit of your stomach, and your heart beats faster. Intuition is telling you that something is about to happen and it isn’t what you’d just been picturing.

The elevator dings and you hear a major commotion as several men trample into the penthouse.

“Find her!” Says a commanding and somehow familiar voice.

In a panic, you back yourself into the corner of the room, next to the window and pull your knees up to your chest, hugging yourself into a ball.

The room’s door swings open and crashes into the wall as 3 men with guns enter. You tense at their sight, but when they see you and that the room is clear, they lower their weapons. 

“She’s in here.” One of them shouts. 

In rushes their boss, your grandfather. He sees you shaking and barely clothed and pulls the duvet off the bed to wrap you in it. He crouches down beside you as you’re swaddled by its warmth.

You’re relieved that it’s him, but still in shock. 

“It’s ok, it’s going to be ok. You’re safe now."  He reassures you.

You take deep, gasping breaths, still shaking.

"He can’t hurt you now. We’ve made sure of that.” In your addled state you look at him, confused.

“Diego Jimenez is dead sweetheart. He’ll never lay a finger on you again.”

Your heart stops and your body goes cold and suddenly you can’t hold back and the floodgates open. You sob uncontrollably into your grandfather’s arms.

He mistakes your tears for the tears of trauma, assuming your fear found its resolution. They are tears of relief he tells himself. The tears that will begin your healing from the whole ordeal.

You sob and heave and struggle to catch your breath and it continues for what feels like hours. He lets you wear yourself out, and when the sobbing subsides and your body stops shaking you are handed some warm clothes.You dress yourself and are escorted to the elevator.

Your grandfather wants a doctor to examine you, but you persuade him to let you go home instead. You’ve never felt so old or exhausted in your life.

“You are free now little bird.” You tell yourself sadly.

***

You return to your family and they coddle you for a while. There are big celebrations and intimate dinners, and you eat and try to laugh when you’re expected to. There are therapists to help you process the trauma, but despite the promise of confidentiality, you make up most of your harrowing ordeal. Anyone could be on the family payroll. Anyone.

You must conceal the sadness in your heart. At the loss of a man you were falling for, but could never be yours. You keep him as a secret, locked away from everyone you know, lest your family disown you. 

You eventually leave the city and your life returns to normal. But when you’re alone, late at night, the intense passion seared in your memory and in the fibers of your body makes you wistfully smile and your heart longs to be caged once more.

[girlpornparadise]

The Caged Bird Moans (pt 1)

Pairing: Diego Jimenez/f!Reader (Power - Starz)

Word Count: ~2600

Warnings:  It's a bit Stockholm syndromey, but that's not a real thing anyway (look it up). Not exactly non-con, but it skirts the idea, so if power disparities aren't your jam, please move along. It just real dirty. SMUT!

Personal ramble: Would anyone actually react like this to the situation I've set forth? No. But just as the pizza guy is never hot and doesn't offer you his extra sausage, this is porn people! So suspend your disbelief and don't hate on me for my bullsh*t.

I also wrote all this nonsense a week ago before I read anything from the lovely @1zashreena1 , @heresathreebee or @nicke0115 so sorry if it looks similar, I swear it's a coincidence.

"Ouch", you think to yourself but instead swallow the pain. Your arm hurts under the firm grasp of the thug dragging you from the elevator into the spacious penthouse.

"Be careful with that." Says a commanding voice from across the room.

The grip loosens, but he's still using your momentum to force you forward. You stumble, unsure of just how much danger you are in.

As you take in your surroundings the owner of the voice turns around and approaches you. He looks you up and down, examining you like a prize he had won.

"We can't afford to damage her." He states plainly, looking at the man still holding you in place.

As he examines you, you examine him right back. Whereas he is doing it in an obvious way, head nodding to rake his eyes over you, you move your eyes only, unable to control your body in this moment. You follow the carefully polished boots up past the fitted black jeans to the black buttoned up shirt with the slight sheen to it, that accentuates his frame. Everything is obviously expensive and very deliberately chosen. As your eyes settle on his face, a recognization dawns on you. Diego Jimenez. One of the heads of the Jiminez cartel. His reputation was well known to you. An unstable, merciless man whose penchant for partying made him a big name in certain circles. You were scared before, but now your body goes rigid with fear and your gaze hits the floor with force.

Though you're no longer looking at him directly you can sense his smugness and satisfaction at knowing you are now showing the appropriate amount of fear for the situation you're in. Maybe it's your hind brain telling you you are in the presence of an apex predator. Maybe it was the clipped snort he let out, tinged with amusement as he nodded with approval.

After what feels like an eternity, but was probably mere seconds, he speaks again.

"Take her to the guest room." He orders the man still firmly gripping your arm. "Lock this little bird in her cage."

Dragging you again, this time down the hall, Diego's orders are followed to completion. You are practically thrown into the room as the door slams shut behind you.

You stumble, catching yourself on the bed. You collapse onto it as tears prick your eyes and subsequently fall down your cheeks. You begin to sob, but muffle it in the covers, assuming someone is standing guard outside and not wanting to seem even weaker in such an intense situation. But the tears flow freely as the shock of what's happened slowly wears off and you begin to process the details of your abduction.

You hadn't grown up in this world, though your ties to it were strong. You were part of the Bennet family, a rival cartel, headed by your grandfather. He insisted you grow up distanced from this world. A world of violence and cruelty. A world of drugs and guns and transactions ending in death. Based on your current reaction, you couldn't help but think maybe it was because you're so weak. Both you and he knew it was true, you were too soft to be a part of the business, too kind to do what would be required of you. So he kept you away, from his city and his dealings and all of the darkness that came with it.

You were in town for a rare family visit when you were taken without warning, snatched from the street at gunpoint. They were able to do it without drawing attention, entirely professional, and you complied with their every demand as a sense of terror ripped through you.

And now here you were, trapped by a barbarous stranger who could end your life at any moment without a second thought.

As you wore yourself out from crying, you began to take in the room, determined to get your bearings. It was sparsely decorated, obviously the work of a man unattached. It was also immaculately clean, obviously the work of his maid. As your breathing slows and your senses sharpen, you become aware that the comforter you are still on top of is plush and expensive, like the kind found at a swanky hotel.

Curiosity returning with your senses, you walk over to the window that stretches from floor to ceiling and take in the impressive view of the city. If the long elevator ride weren't a clear enough indicator, the view tells you that you are in the penthouse of a very upscale building.

Next to the window is a large bathroom and you walk in. You splash cold water on your face and dry it on one of the plush towels. You can't help be momentarily amused by how well stocked the room is with soaps and lotions. There were definitely worse places to be trapped. Was this the definition of a gilded cage?

As you settle down, you take off your shoes and sit back down on the bed. You're exhausted to your core, and you sink into the mattress, wanting to disappear. You want to keep your wits about you, alert and on guard, but instead the stress combined with the late hour forces you to sleep.

You are woken up abruptly the following morning when the door swings open and you are literally dragged out of bed by the same man as yesterday. 

You're a bleary eyed, rumpled mess and the same fear and pain shoot through you as you remember where you are and how you got there. Your breathing is shallow as you try not to panic.

You've been dragged before Diego who is standing imposingly before you, hands clasped in front of him, chin slightly upward so he can look down his nose at you.

He examines you once more and you can tell he's disgusted by what he sees.

"Get our guest something to wear." He barks. "And get her something to eat. We can't bargain if she's broken."

As he turns away from you to resume whatever you interrupted, you catch the flash of the gun in his waistband and the fear settles once again in the pit of your stomach.

You are escorted back to the room forcefully and your mind is racing. You know everyone who comes through the penthouse is armed to the teeth and there's no chance of escape. You're not just weak, you're helpless. You assume you're being held for some kind of ransom, probably territory or resources as opposed to money, and you silently pray that a deal for your release is struck quickly so this nightmare can be over.

Soon after, the door opens and a housekeeper enters carrying a couple of bags of clothes. She doesn't look you in the eye and you wouldn't know what to say to her anyway. 

Once she has left, you rummage through the clothes. There's nothing there you'd pick for yourself, but you settle on a white fitted t-shirt and jeans. You carry them with you into the bathroom along with a handful of drugstore makeup you find in the bottom of the bag.

You look at yourself in the mirror and the reason for Diego's revulsion becomes clear. Your clothes are wrinkled and creased and your mascara is smudged under your eyes. You lock the bathroom door behind you, strip down and take a shower. The running water calms you and once you finish you get dressed and approximate your normal makeup routine with what you have. If you're going to put on a brave front, you need to be as put together as possible.

When you emerge from the bathroom a tray of breakfast is waiting on the nightstand next to the bed. Eggs sunny side up and toast, simple and straightforward. You devour it greedily since you haven't eaten since lunch yesterday.

The day passes with 2 more meals brought to you by the same housekeeper at the appropriate intervals. In the absence of your phone, you distract yourself with mindless TV on the rather large set opposite the bed. You don't take in much as you think about your predicament and then try to force those thoughts of the worst case scenario from your mind.

Your sleep that night is restless.

You are brought before Diego once again in the morning, shortly after you wake. 

This time you are allowed to walk under your own power, though your legs feel wobbly and your feet unsure as you approach him.

You're wearing a cotton t-shirt and shorts,  the closest thing you could find to pajamas. As he looks at you, you become painfully aware that you're not wearing underwear, his eyes seeming to stop at all the places where it should be.

You are at least able to look at him and take in more this time. He's clad in a similar black button up shirt and black jeans as yesterday, a uniform of sorts to convey his status. His hair is neatly cut and accentuates his angles, sharp jaw and well placed cheekbones. His greying facial hair gives him some earned distinction and his expression is hard and deliberate to elicit a specific reaction of fear. Through the careful tailoring of his shirt you can see that his body is sturdy and muscular. His tense posture using his frame to his advantage, making him seem larger than he actually is. You know to fear him, but he may be the most attractive man you've ever seen in real life.

He obviously cultivates an aura of power, and you can't help but be drawn to him as an Alpha Male. As you steel yourself, you dare to look him in the eyes. His eyes are cold but impossibly magnetic and you can't look away. He's looking back at you now, into you. Your heart forgets how to beat in rhythm and you swallow thickly.

He sees your fear and is clearly amused by it.

"Breakfast will be ready soon. You should go take a shower." He says, his lips curling upwards. 

"I, I was going to." you stammer.

"Good girl." It comes out as almost a purr and sends a shiver down your spine.

This time it's Diego, not his associate who accompanies you back to the bedroom. His hand is hovering above the small of your back, ushering you forward while maintaining a small distance. You enter the room and the lock clicks behind you.

You turn to see that he's still in the room and with his gaze set upon you, you begin to back away towards the bathroom,  afraid to turn your back on him. This was clearly his intended effect.

You expect him to leave, but he's doing the opposite. He is stalking forward. Your heart is pounding out of your chest and your uneven breathing becomes gulping for air.

As he closes the gap between your bodies, he repeats his suggestion. "You should go take a shower." It's not a suggestion though, it's a command.

He leans in. "Go on." His lips are close enough to your ear that his breath catches in your hair.

His thick body is now urging you through the bathroom doorway by its approach. You back through it, still transfixed by his gaze. 

You glance side eyed to your left at the shower that takes up the far wall. It's one of those large walk-in showers with a stone floor and a rain showerhead. It suddenly seems less like a shower and feels more like a trap about to spring shut.

"Take off your clothes." He says. He's not asking.

You gulp, your eyes have gone wide at the demand.

"Take. Off. Your. Clothes." He repeats in a tone that is both amused and losing patience. He raises his eyebrows slightly as he says it.

You look away, ashamed, and slowly and nervously acquiesce. You stand before him completely naked and try to avert your gaze. You are drawing your body inward, trying to conceal yourself in any way you can.

"Turn on the water." he says with his wicked smile widening.

You turn on the shower and wait for it to warm. It dawns on you that there's no shower curtain to protect you or glass wall to hide behind. You are fully exposed and will remain so.

You step under the water, unsure of what to do next. You'd obviously showered hundreds of times, but this wasn't a shower. It was a show.

"Wash yourself." His voice is quieter, more of a harsh whisper.

You grab a washcloth and pump the foaming body wash onto it. You rub it on the back of your neck and slowly work your way down to your shoulders. Your nerves have subsided a little as the water washes over your skin.

He's mesmerized by the motion of your hands and you drag the washcloth across your collarbones and down to your breasts, where you languidly rub them with the cloth as well as your free hand.

Your nipples harden at your own touch. He notices and his tongue drags over his bottom lip. You close your eyes in an attempt to momentarily escape.

When you open your eyes you notice him shift his weight and catch a glimpse of the shift in his muscles under his shirt. You get a rush as you feel the power dynamic shift slightly. You are slow to rub the washcloth down your legs and you arch your back slightly as you bend over, purposely sticking out your ass more than you naturally would. 

His eyes are dark with lust and you can feel the warmth radiating from between your own legs.

"Rub your clit." He says, reclaiming his power.

You look at him with shocked eyes and your eyebrows knit.

"You heard me." he says. "I won't ask again." His head tilting slightly.

You put the washcloth aside and tentatively slide your middle finger between your thighs to your bundle of nerves. You notice how wet you already are and using gentle pressure you begin to rubbing in circles.

You close your eyes and swallow as your walls contract and release. Your breathing gets heavier and heavier until you're panting. Panting and touching yourself for this fixated man. 

"Cum for me." He demands. "I need to see you cum." 

You think to fake an orgasm. To end this little game he's playing, but it's too late. Your finger presses harder on your clit and you tremble as the real thing rips through you. You close your eyes and cry out with abandon.

When you regain yourself you look at him. You are raw and exposed and at your most vulnerable. His mouth is in a wide smile and his eyes gleam with satisfaction. 

He reaches out to you, towel in hand. You steady yourself, turn off the water, and take the towel from him. You wrap it around yourself, suddenly panged with shame at how readily you revealed your most intimate self to this menacing stranger. Your posture closes, and reflects your return to shyness.

"Good girl." He says, and you feel the words like honey dripping in your ears.

He turns and leaves, his confident stride drawing your attention to how his jeans hug his perfect behind. 

You dry yourself off and as you get to your inner thighs you're reminded of how wet you are. How wet you are for him. You want to blame the shower, but you know the truth. You're spellbound by this man, and god are you in trouble.

[girlpornparadise]

The Caged Bird Moans (pt 5)

Pairing: Diego Jimenez/f!Reader (Power - Starz)

Word Count: ~ 800

Warnings:  It's a bit Stockholm syndromey, but that's not a real thing anyway (look it up). Not exactly non-con, but it skirts the idea, so if power disparities aren't your jam, please move along. It just real dirty. SMUT!

Personal ramble: Would anyone actually react like this to the situation I've set forth? No. But just as the pizza guy is never hot and doesn't offer you his extra sausage, this is porn people! So suspend your disbelief and don't hate on me for my bullsh*t.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

You wake up to the sound of harsh laughter outside of your door. You sit up quietly and listen for a moment, trying to understand what's going on. You determine it's the ending of a business meeting when you hear the harsh clapping sounds of aggressive handshakes and pat on the back hugs being exchanged. You're glad things are wrapping up because you could use a drink from the kitchen.

You listen intently and when you're sure the elevator doors have closed, you sneak out of the bedroom door and peek around the corner into the living area.

Diego is strutting around the furniture exclaiming something triumphantly in Spanish to no one in particular. He's clearly in a celebratory mood. 

He notices you hiding and looks right at you with that big radiant smile on his face. You feel his strong energy pull at you from across the room.

He extends his hand towards you and bends his finger towards himself with 2 quick pumps as he growls "Come here."

You notice that instead of using just his index finger, he's pumping two of his fingers the way he does when his hand is inside of you. You know he's done it on purpose and your insides clench as if they were wrapped around his skilled digits. 

Giddily you almost skip over to him and you feel elated that he desires you once more.

You want to kiss him, but as you reach out towards his neck he snatches your wrist midair with his authoritative grip.

"Get on your knees." He commands.

You bend down and as you do, you take in his torso and think about tearing off his shirt and licking the sweat off of his firm physique. As you reach the floor, you tuck your legs under you and rest your hands on your thighs.

He undoes his belt with a jerking motion and drops his pants to his ankles. He jams his hands in the waistband of his boxers and forces them down too.

You are eye level with his crotch and you lick your lips in anticipation. He's only semi erect, but you're already salivating.

"Suck." he demands.

You take his growing girth in your mouth and inhale so hard your cheeks go concave. The intense force catches him off guard and he doubles over slightly. He huffs as if he's had the wind knocked out of him.

He straightens up and places a hand on your shoulder to steady himself. As he does so, his cock reaches its full length and you are unable to fit it all in your mouth. You wrap a hand around the shaft and stroke while your tongue twirls around his throbbing head.

You place your other hand on his ass and squeeze a little to brace yourself as he begins to rock his hips. You twist your hand slightly as you stroke his shaft and suck as much of his cock as your hungry mouth will take. His breathing is heavy and punctuated by primal huffs and growls.

At an especially aggressive move of your tongue, he throws his head back and closes his eyes and you thrill at the power you have over him. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch the glint of his gun sitting on the coffee table and marvel at having this dangerous man completely at your mercy.

As his excitement builds, you lick from the base of his shaft up to his head, lapping up his salty pre-cum. You swallow hard, taking in his taste and savouring him.

His hand moves from your shoulder to the back of your head and he cradles it against his stuttering hips.

As his thrusts become more aggressive, he pulls the back of your head towards him with some force and you gag on his huge cock. You let out a gurgling sound as tears sting your eyes. You jerk your head back, gasping for air and he snarls at your loss.

"Take it all." He says, his eyes frenzied with lust.

So you let him press his cock into your mouth again and again as he thrusts harder, approaching his climax.

He pulls back from you suddenly and frantically strokes his shaft. You close your eyes as you feel his hot ropes of cum paint themselves across your face. When you open your eyes, you see him looking down at you with a great deal of satisfaction. He grins at the masterpiece he has created. 

You run a finger through the cream on your cheek and drag it into your mouth, making a show of licking your finger clean.

He runs a hand over your head, smoothing down your hair.

"You're such a good girl." He says and the gravelly words make your heart race.

[girlpornparadise]

The Caged Bird Moans (pt 3)

Pairing: Diego Jimenez/f!Reader (Power - Starz)

Word Count: ~1500

Warnings:  It's a bit Stockholm syndromey, but that's not a real thing anyway (look it up). Not exactly non-con, but it skirts the idea, so if power disparities aren't your jam, please move along. It just real dirty. SMUT!

Personal ramble: Would anyone actually react like this to the situation I've set forth? No. But just as the pizza guy is never hot and doesn't offer you his extra sausage, this is porn people! So suspend your disbelief and don't hate on me for my bullsh*t.

Part 1, Part 2

A new day dawns and by now it's a familiar routine. Meals delivered by his maid. Boredom and television. And torture. Slow, agonizing, sexually charged torture.

You shower and try to remove him from you, but he has burrowed so deep under your skin that mere soap is useless. As the warm water hits you, you imagine it's his hands warming your skin.

You dry off and get dressed. Then you wait. You wait for him with equal parts wanting anticipation and nervous dread. What will be his game today?

As dinner comes and goes your heart sinks a little. Maybe he's out negotiating your release. Wouldn't that be great, to go back to real life and for this to all be over. But would it? You'd feel like something was left unresolved. You shake the thought loose. Of course it would be wonderful! You're a prisoner, you remind yourself. Maybe he's just forgotten you. The predator is done toying with his prey and has moved on to bigger game. Maybe that's for the best. As the torrent of conflicting thoughts and emotions fills your idle mind, the door opens.

He struts into the room as if it were his kingdom and you remember, it is. He's surveying his possessions and at the moment that includes you.

He has eschewed his normal snug man-in-black uniform this evening and he's wearing a black bathrobe. It's open wide at the collar, too wide, and it gives you a magnificent view of his sculpted chest. 

Your jaw drops open and you close your mouth quickly, hoping he didn't notice. 

He looks at you sitting on the bed with your hands folded in your lap, so innocently. He smiles that wicked smile, framed so perfectly by his salt and pepper facial hair. He clearly has a plan and all you can do is wait for him to put it in motion.

He unties his robe and it drops open, revealing the biggest erection you'd ever seen. It curves further up his stomach than you'd thought possible and your jaw drops open with no hope of you closing it this time. No wonder he's so confident.

"Oh my god." Your lips barely move and you breathe the words more than say them. 

In the silence of the room he catches your hushed exclamation and his chest puffs out a little more as he swells with pride, that wicked smile still gracing his lips.

Turning his attention away from you, challenging you to turn yours from him, he struts around the room like a proud peacock displaying his natural gifts.

He walks over to the window, robe open to the city below, daring the skyscrapers to match the impressive size of his huge cock.

He puts his hands on his hips and you marvel at his perfect silhouette, illuminated by the urban glow. He can feel your eyes ranking against him, and he stands there relishing it, pulling at the torturous glowing you feel between your legs.

He parades himself back to the bed, dropping the robe to the floor as he does. You are now kneeling on the bed, facing him, the nighttime canvas of the massive window sparkling behind him. You straighten your back to look him in the eyes, but still have to look up at him on an angle. He stands over you looking down and you await his command.

He stands there with his hands at his sides and all you can hear is the deafening pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. He says nothing, but his gaze has softened slightly. You suddenly realize in all of your interactions, he has yet to touch you and his eyes are searching yours for permission to do just that.

"Take me Diego." The words escape your lips breathily and of their own volition.

He has won and he knows it. Of the scores of women he has surely seduced, you can now count yourself among them. Weak and pleading for his touch.

His hands grab your face and he plants a punishing, bruising kiss on your lips. A moan escapes you and you reach out to press your hands firmly against his chest. He runs his hands down your waist and grabs your hips with a crushing force, making sure there is no mistake, you are his to consume.

His hands shoot up to your chest and he unbuttons the blouse you had found in the grab bag of clothes this morning. He's practically tearing it off you with abandon and you drop your hands to your sides so he can pull it down your arms.

His hands fumble momentarily as he decides between palming your breasts and tearing off your bra. He decides on the latter and unhooks it like a pro. He tears it off of you and throws it violently across the room.

His strong hands find your breasts and grab and squeeze. He pinches your nipples with just enough force to elicit a gasp and your hips gyrate as your panties soak through.

You reach out to his cock but he pulls his hips back, away from your touch. He pushes you down on the bed by your shoulders and you bounce lightly from the force, untucking your legs from under you as you fall. Before you can still yourself, his hands are unzipping your pants and you arch so he can rip them away along with your panties in one forceful motion. 

You spread your legs in invitation and he dives overtop of you, his hips between your thighs, his elbows on either side of your writhing body. You feel his cock brushing against your skin and it sends a thrill through your entire body.

He mashes his mouth to yours in a searing kiss and his tongue forces its way into your mouth, hunting your tongue, cornering it, and taking what he wants from it.

As you both paw and grab and cling to each other's bodies he suddenly pulls away, reaching behind him. 

He's reaching for the nightstand to seek out a condom. But before he can open the drawer, your hand shoots up and you grab his wrist following an instinct you can't control.

"No Diego, I want you to fill me with your cum." You hiss into his ear.

His eyes go wide and a look of manic excitement crosses his face, matching the rush you feel for him. He grabs your face again and starts nipping at your jaw as you shamelessly moan and writhe.

He pulls his hips back and grabs his throbbing girth. He plunges it into you and it hits a spot so deep it's never been touched before. You scream with a mix of pleasure and pain as he splits you wider than you'd ever been. Stretching your walls around his thickness.

His thrusts are hard, not those of a man of subtlety, but those of a man of force. But you take it gladly, shaking beneath him. The tempo increases and you throw your hands over your head, grasping at the duvet. He takes this opportunity to suck on your exposed breasts, one nipple and then the other.

The pleasure is too much and you cry out his name as you cum. Writhing and shaking. Eyes scrunched closed and breathing heavy and erratic.

The punishing thrusts don't stop though, he is chasing his own pleasure and needs your fluttering walls to take it from him.

Exhausted, you grab at the rippling muscles on his back and wrap your legs around his hips. You tighten your entire body around his, squeezing the orgasm out of him with force.

You watch his face as the muscles in his neck and jaw tense. His nose crinkles, like a dog bearing its teeth and a strained growl tears from his throat. His last few thrusts stutter into you and he fills you with thick creamy ropes of cum.

As he starts to soften, he pulls himself out of you and you feel him drip from your entrance.

He throws himself down beside you on his back, staring contentedly at the ceiling.

You turn to look at him and feast your eyes once more on his perfect body, now spent with exhaustion. 

After a minute he turns his head to face you.

"How's my good girl?" He purrs.

The sounds that escape you are not words, but the speaking in tongues of someone who can't put themself back together.

He grins at your inability to articulate what he's done to you. And he puffs his chest out once again with pride.

You expect him to take his leave now that he's used you up, but he doesn't stir. He regards your trembling wreckage and smiles. He lays back and threading his fingers behind his head, he closes his eyes and drifts off to sleep. You shortly after do the same.

[girlpornparadise]

The Caged Bird Moans (pt 2)

Pairing: Diego Jimenez/f!Reader (Power - Starz)

Word Count: ~1000

Warnings:  It's a bit Stockholm syndromey, but that's not a real thing anyway (look it up). Not exactly non-con, but it skirts the idea, so if power disparities aren't your jam, please move along. It just real dirty. SMUT!

Personal ramble: Would anyone actually react like this to the situation I've set forth? No. But just as the pizza guy is never hot and doesn't offer you his extra sausage, this is porn people! So suspend your disbelief and don't hate on me for my bullsh*t.

@1zashreena1 , @heresathreebee , @nicke0115 

Part 1

The rest of the day passes much like the previous one. But the TV doesn't hold your attention the same way. Your mind keeps drifting to him. To his lustful gaze and muscular frame. To his growling voice and confident smirk. It sends your blood to the surface of your skin and you find yourself absentmindedly rubbing your arm, your thigh, your chest, wondering what his touch feels like.

As night falls you stand at the window and admire the city below you. You try to come to grips with the situation you're in, and how it has become a complicated mess. Your fate is still in the hands of a murderous man and a ruthless family, but you feel it's at least stable for the time being. You're still a breathing bargaining chip and you cling to the idea it will keep you alive.

When your mind can take no more, you fall into another restless sleep.

After you wake, your breakfast arrives and the morning passes without incident. You can't help but be disappointed by the absence of your captor. But you remember once again that's what he is. You shouldn't get too comfortable in this prison.

Sometime after lunch the door opens, too soon to be another meal. Diego walks through the door and closes it behind him. 

A thrill rushes through you as he confidently swaggers into the room. This dangerous man excites you in a way you've never felt before. 

His presence is still imposing, but you feel a little bolder, knowing he desires you. You look him in the eyes. You notice they're deep and brown and beautiful, but they don't betray emotions easily. He is a hard man, and other than carnal urges and surface level bravado, he keeps himself under wraps.

What he says next catches you completely off guard. He sounds almost sincere, but in a rehearsed way as he speaks. 

"I've come to see that you're okay. That you don't need anything more." 

I need you. your brain whispers, but you swat the thought away.

"No, I'm fine." You say, your voice small, not wanting to anger him. But a bit of boldness and honesty seep out. "A little bored and lonely I suppose."

"Well, you're in luck then. I've come to keep you company." The words have a threatening undercurrent. And you gasp ever so slightly.

He lets out a soft chuckle at your reaction. He can see the panic in your eyes. He assumes you're afraid he'll ask you to shower again, but he can't read that afraid is the wrong word, it's closer to exhilaration.

"Sit down." He says. So you sit on the edge of the bed. He sits next to you and you feel the mattress shift under his weight.

You begin to burn under his intense gaze and you look down at your hands that are fidgeting nervously in your lap. His eyes follow yours and he tracks you trying to distract yourself from him.

He clears his throat. It's not loud, but it's authoritative. Something that undeniably grabs the attention of everyone in a room. His every word and movement is that of a man used to being in charge.

You look at him and his eyes still burn into you. You feel yourself flush and the embarrassment of doing so just makes you turn redder. 

He sucks his bottom lip under his top teeth ever so slightly and releases it. It draws your attention to his mouth and how you want his lips to part and suck bruises into your flesh.

He rubs the duvet behind you seductively.

"Lie down." he says. 

You obey.

You await his touch, but instead more commands follow. "Take off your shirt."

You lean upwards and grab it by the hem. You pull it over your head and drop it to your side. He pushes it off the bed with a flick of his wrist.

"And your bra."

You unclasp it and pull the straps down your arms. You are deliberately slow in doing so and you watch his eyes as you reveal your breasts. He stares at them as a hungry man stares at a delicious meal, eyes wide and wanting. You toss the bra aside.

His eyes drag from your chest back to your face. "Now your pants."

You undo and shimmy out of them, bracing yourself against the bed and arching to pull them over your hips and down off of your feet.

He looks directly at your crotch and you fear he can see how your underwear has been darkened by the wetness. The wetness he has caused.

"Your panties too." He licks his lips.

You repeat the motion and discard them as well. 

You're breathing heavily now with no way to conceal it, as you are laying completely naked on the bed. He regards you possessively. As an object, a plaything. His plaything.

He stands up.

"Spread your legs." 

You oblige.

"Wider." His tone edged with frustration that he had to be more specific.

You widen your legs as far as you can and you feel obscene.

"Now spread your lips and let me see your pussy."

Your eyes are blasted wide open. 

"Do it." He whisper-growls, the frustration bubbling over.

You slowly reach down and spreading 2 fingers in the shape of an inverted V, open your folds to him.

He bends down to look at it and you contract as your body tries to pull away from him.

There's no way to hide and you feel like you've given yourself away. You are absolutely soaked, slick with your desire for him. His effect on your body is splayed plainly before him and though you can't see his expression, you just know he's extremely pleased with himself.

You feel his hot breath on your skin and you tense, awaiting his touch. Instead it never comes. You hear him inhale as he sniffs between your legs and you hear him lick his lips. He stands up, satisfied with what his senses took in.

He looks straight into your eyes and licks his lips again for your benefit.

"Good girl." He says in that deep whisper.

Your heart flutters.

"Now put your clothes back on, you look like a whore." He says with a cruel laugh.

He leaves the room and you stare at the back of his head with pleading eyes, desperate to feel him inside of you.

[girlpornparadise]

The Caged Bird Moans (pt 4)

Pairing: Diego Jimenez/f!Reader (Power - Starz)

Word Count: ~1300

Warnings:  It's a bit Stockholm syndromey, but that's not a real thing anyway (look it up). Not exactly non-con, but it skirts the idea, so if power disparities aren't your jam, please move along. It just real dirty. SMUT!

Personal ramble: Would anyone actually react like this to the situation I've set forth? No. But just as the pizza guy is never hot and doesn't offer you his extra sausage, this is porn people! So suspend your disbelief and don't hate on me for my bullsh*t.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

You wake the next morning exhausted, satisfied, confused and conflicted.

The bed next to you is empty and you reach over to see if it's still warm. It's not, and you don't know what you'd expected. A busy man like him obviously can't afford to sleep in with so much business to attend to. Including the business of your return you suppose.

You pick up your routine of starting the day off with a shower. When you get out, you go to the bag of clothes to pick out something to wear, but you find it's gone. You do a cursory search of the room and can't find it when you notice a black silk blend men's dress shirt on the dresser. It's the only item of clothing in the room, so you put it on, carefully buttoning it to the top. It's only after you get "dressed" that you notice the door is slightly ajar. You peak out nervously and the door creaks a little, startling you. There's no one there. 

"Come out little bird." You hear that strong, no nonsense voice echo through the expansive penthouse. 

You practically tiptoe out of the room, heart racing just in case you misunderstood what was happening, afraid you'd be tossed back into your cage. But you make it out to the expansive living area to see Diego sitting on the couch, coffee and breakfast in front of him. You dimly register that there's a second coffee and breakfast beside it and you cock your head confused. There's no one else around.

"There's my good girl." He says, rubbing a napkin over his mouth, pulling it downwards over his greying beard.

"You're finally awake. I guess I gave you quite a workout last night." He smirks with pride.

"You certainly did." You're about to say, but swallow the words instead.

He smiles that charming smile with the confidence that masks his cruelty, his boyish dimples betraying the predator underneath. For a moment you had forgotten he was your captor, capable of atrocities you dare not imagine.

"Unbutton the top three buttons of my shirt, you look like a nun." He says. A pantsless nun you muse to yourself as you expose your cleavage.

He pats the sofa next to him. "Come, have breakfast with me." Though it sounds like a suggestion you remember that you have no say in the matter. 

You pad barefoot and bare bottomed over to the couch and take your place next to him. You eye him carefully for a moment, wary that it's some kind of trap. 

He turns to you and rips a piece of croissant into his mouth with a little extra force for your benefit. His eyes are laughing at the way your breathing wavers.

"You're scared of me, and you should be." He says as he swallows the bite. "But I won't harm you, you're my girl now." He says with a sense of ownership. He reaches over and grabs your chin between his forefinger and thumb, forcing you to look him in the eyes. "I promise." 

You believe him. He does nothing to hide his lavish tastes, his illegal activities, his willingness to take a life, or even his own body. There's an openness about him. What you see is what you get.

"Ok Diego, I believe you." You say softly.

"Good." He says, satisfied with your answer. He turns to face the wall opposite the couch and picks the remote up off the coffee table. He turns on the massive wall mounted television and after a couple of minutes unexpectedly settles on the news.

You're reminded that there's an entire world outside, but find yourself disinterested in it. You realize you're an addict now, not of his plentiful product, but of the man who controls its flow.

"You're breakfast is getting cold." He says with a nod of his chin.

You're broken from your thoughts, and you tuck into the meal before you.

You both eat in silence, letting the tv fill the room with noise and when you finish you relax back into the couch. As he wipes his face and downs the last dregs of his coffee he turns to you. His eyes are still hungry and you are clearly dessert.

Oh.

"If you're gonna be my girl, you have to give yourself to me, morning, noon, and night." His eyes are lidded as he says it.

Oh. 

You're in trouble again.

"Yes Diego. For you, anything."

A small voice in the back of your head screams "What are you doing?!" "Anything!?" But it is silenced by his soft lips, and gruff facial hair sweeping your face. You sigh.

He pulls back to look into your eyes, knowing full well he is your master now. You weave your hands into the hair at the base of his neck and he crashes his kiss onto your lips. 

As his hands explore your body you reciprocate and each muscle you touch that meets your hands with firmness makes you a little wetter between your thighs.

You go to straddle him. But he pushes you away.

"No." He says firmly. "I'm going to take you from behind."

Your mouth opens at the demand and he grabs your hips. He turns you around so you're facing away from him, lengthwise on the couch. You put your elbows on the cushion and arch your back to present your naked ass to his needy erection. He frees it from his jeans and boxers quickly and with force. He peels the black shirt over his head and throws it aside. He kneels down on the couch behind you, then he grabs your hips and pulls them to line up with his.

"Please Diego, please." You beg. And he slides his cock into you. You feel every turgid inch fill you with warmth and he hits even deeper within you than the night before.

He slams into you and you hear the wet slapping against your juicy folds. As he finds his rhythm you moan at each hit. He slaps your ass twice and each time he does, you tighten around him.

The elevator dings and you hear someone get off. You're startled, and you clench, being caught in the act. Debasing yourself for this beast that rides you.

"Don't you dare stop." He commands through clenched teeth.

He clearly loves an audience and you're so wrapped up in the pleasure that you don't even mind.

As he hits that glowing spot inside of you again and again, your legs begin to falter. He grips your hips even tighter and thrusts even faster.

You close around him as his cock demands your orgasm. It shreds through you and you bury your head below you and muffle a scream into the cushion.

He wraps his strong hand around your hair, grabs it as a ponytail and yanks your head back. "I want to hear what I'm doing to you." He growls, not missing a beat.

You scream again as he hits the same spot and sends searing lightning through your nerves.

You feel him lean forward mashing his hands into your hips. Squeezing you like he wants to extract all of your juices.

He cums loud and hard and you revel in what you've done to him. He pulls back out of you and you shudder at his loss.

You collapse on the couch on your side, facing the open room, shirt still on but wrinkled and askew. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Diego get dressed and address the man who got off the elevator.

You don't really hear what is said, but you take it as your cue to clear out. You return to your room on wobbly legs and decide a nap is in order.