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Franziska's Memoirs	By : DonCorneo Category: +M through R > Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney Views: 10077 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Ace Attorney universe or characters, and I make no money from this or any other story.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
Chapter Warnings:
F/F, Oral, Rim, Toys, DP, Solo, BDSM, Dom, D/S, Exhib

She followed Phoenix Wright like a hawk, waiting to hear news of him taking up a case so that she could pounce on it and tear out his jugular. It struck her just how few cases this man actually took; only one every few months. It was such a foreign concept to her. She so lavished the taste of victory that it was not unlike torture to go without prosecuting for so long. But finally her time arrived. A prominent actor on a children's television show had been murdered, and heading the defense was none other than her arch-rival, Phoenix Wright. This time. This time would surely be it. He would taste the bottom of her heel.
Imagine her surprise, then, when she spotted Scruffy speaking with Phoenix Wright for the second time today. Within Criminal Affairs, no less!
Earlier, she'd caught them speaking at the crime scene. Fair enough. He had the right to conduct his own investigation. She'd whipped Scruffy into submission and left it at that. But within the detective's own department, sharing case details with the enemy? Who had clearly come here for that specific purpose? This was the very final straw. She didn't even bother whipping him. She simply stormed up to him and, with an ice-cold voice that could extinguish the sun, gave him thirty minutes to remove himself from the premises.
If it weren't for him...
A condescending voice from behind her finished her sentence. A voice she hadn't heard in years. She whirled around. Standing before her, towering over her as he always had, was her little brother Miles Edgeworth.
It had been years since she'd seen him. Nearly a year since he disappeared. She had thought him dead. It took every ounce of her strength to hold back the single bead of emotion that attempted to escape her tear ducts.
It was good to see him. He had changed. He was still as pale as ever, but he was no longer the gangly Miles Edgeworth she had known so intimately as a teenager. He had an air of confidence about him, a twinkle in his eye that she had never seen before. His presence was powerful. He was... handsome.
He was very handsome. Franziska had spent her entire life hating the fact that she had to look up to meet his gaze, but now she actually caught herself staring into his eyes. They went on forever. Why were they so much deeper than before? What had happened to this man to change him so drastically?
She had to remind herself that this was the Miles Edgeworth who ran away with his tail between his legs after losing a few cases to Phoenix Wright. She had to remind herself that she was currently furious with him. His entrance just now had made her even more so. How dare he show his face to her without a shred of shame upon it? He had soiled the von Karma name. When she said as much, Miles exhaled through his nose and smiled.
He asked her how she was doing upholding the family creed. That was below the belt.
She made her plans abundantly clear to Phoenix Wright and Miles Edgeworth, and... how curious. Where was Maya Fey? The little girl from the channeling case was there, Maya's cousin or something, but there was no Maya to be found.
She shrugged this off, assuring Miles Edgeworth that she would never give up this case, and promised Phoenix Wright that he would fall in court tomorrow.
With that, she stormed off.
With a sneer, she took solace in the fact that she would soon be the better of them. After this case, she would have done something Miles Edgeworth had failed to do, something even Manfred von Karma had failed to do - in a few days, she would have defeated Phoenix Wright.
During the investigation of the hotel where the murder had taken place, she came across an important witness: the suspect's manager, a strong, confident woman known as Adrian Andrews. She was average height, average build, with long, blonde hair and glasses that seemed to hide her eyes. There was a heavy air of strength about her, like this was not a woman to be trifled with. She was careful to shut the door behind her as she entered the room, leaving a guard posted outside.
Franziska grinned like the Cheshire Cat as she shook the woman's hand. It was a soft hand. Slender fingers. Creamy complexion. Perfectly manicured nails This was a hand she fully intended to become very intimate with.
Franziska had done her homework. This woman was not the powerful, dauntless person she appeared to be. It was all an act. She had read it all in the reports.
Years ago, a woman named Celeste Inpax had killed herself as a result of emotional abuse from two men involved in the current case: the suspect and the victim. Ms. Inpax had been a mentor of sorts to Ms. Andrews. In the days following her death, Ms. Andrews herself attempted suicide.
From this, Franziska had surmised two things.
Firstly, Ms. Adrian Andrews was a person lacking the strength and self-respect to carry on in a world without a mentor figure, without a person to rely on. Ergo, she was the type of person to rely heavily on others, to graft onto them and cling for dear life. The type of person easy to be manipulated. This benefited Franziska twofold. She was certain she would be able to use this knowledge to steer Ms. Andrews in a direction that would benefit her case.
The second way this knowledge would prove beneficial tied in directly to the second thing Franziska had surmised about Ms. Andrews.
Her actions following Celeste's death led Franziska to believe that Adrian Andrews was most likely a lesbian. Perhaps bisexual or, at the very least, straight with a massive girlcrush.
With a smirk, she ran the numbers in her head. Here in the room with her was a beautiful, intelligent woman who was most likely willing to sleep with women and most definitely easily manipulated and easily dominated.
It was like Christmas morning.
Still, this case was too important. There would be time for a roll in the proverbial hay later, she would see to that.. But she wasn't about to let a single case detail slip through her fingers.
She grilled Ms. Adrian Andrews thoroughly, breaking her frosty exterior down one question at a time until a timid, stuttering mess was all that remained.
It wasn't good. The bespectacled blondie had basically admitted to tampering with the crime scene - pinning the crime on Matt Engarde, the suspect Phoenix Wright would be defending!
Something died in Franziska's throat. She would be ruined if this got out in court tomorrow. She had to nip this in the bud.
Pouring as much volume and authority as she possible could into her next sentence, she ordered Ms. Andrews to plead the fifth. She managed to convince her that if she did speak of her actions behind the scenes, Matt Engarde would, without a doubt, be found innocent. She repeated her orders, drawing a frightened nod out of the woman, forcing her to promise that not a word of this would be spoken. She complied.
Franziska exhaled a deep sigh, moving on to another line of questioning. After about four more case-related questions, she slipped in the question that had been on her mind since she walked in, though she was fairly certain she knew the answer.
Without batting an eyelash, she asked this nervous woman if she was a lesbian.
She had expected a flustered reaction. A blush, some stammering, shifting her weight in her chair. She had hoped for it. It would have aroused her.
To her surprise, Adrian Andrews simply stared right into her eyes and nodded quickly, exactly as she had answered many questions previously.
Franziska was confused, to say the very least. She lifted her neck straight up and shook her head a bit, recoiling, having no idea what else to make of that response. Was she just nodding without really listening? She asked the question again, this time rephrasing it so it was more of a statement.
Adrian Andrews nodded again. This time, she also responded verbally. Yes, she was a lesbian.
Franziska was stunned. She hadn't expected this. The woman was totally unfazed. She hadn't even asked why she wanted to know. It was as though... as though she knew that would be the next question. As though she had been waiting for it.
Doing her best to regroup, Franziska posed a new question to Ms. Andrews: did she prefer mild-mannered, shy women, or...
Franziska bent her wrist and rest her cheek on her fist. Or did she prefer strong, authoritative women?
Adrian Andrews blushed and found a particularly interesting spot on the floor to stare at. That was the response she had been hoping for. That answered her question better than words could have.
She drew her whip, pulling it taut between her fists. For the next 40 minutes, she explained, Ms. Adrian Andrews would address her as "mistress."
Adrian responded in the affirmative, a wry smile slowly spreading across her blushing face.
Oh, Franziska would enjoy this.
They wasted no time getting to know each other. Franziska pressed their foreheads together, her brow furrowed and the corners of her mouth pulled into a smirk. Adrian seemed content to continue avoiding her gaze, blushing furiously.
Franziska looped her whip behind Adrian's shoulders, pulling her close enough that their breasts met with a silent goosh. Peering down at the woman, past her thick glasses, she noticed her wet eyes quivering slightly. Studying them more closely, she could see their faint movements were not out of fear... but of anticipation. She tied her whip around the woman's hands, pulling it tighter... tighter... tighter, until a small moan escaped Adrian's mouth. With a smile, Franziska pulled the knot just one notch tighter, pulling one last rasp out of Adrian's throat.
The next minute passed so quickly that it felt as if it hadn't passed at all. As if it had simply been skipped over. In what seemed like the blink of an eye, they were here; Adrian Andrews knelt on the floor, her hands bound behind her back by a leather whip, her head hidden beneath Franziska's short skirt.
Franziska sat on the couch mostly clothed, her thighs spread wide and her panties dangling off one of her ankles. She purred on the receiving end of Adrian's treatment; Regina Berry had been eager to learn, and Lotta Hart had done this a few times before, but between her legs now was a woman who clearly had a profound appreciation for eating pussy. This was a woman who would seek out this activity whether Franziska was there or not, and it made a world of difference.
She drank from Franziska's folds like a starving stray cat might drink from a dish. Even without the use of her hands, she was certainly performing the most competent cunnilingus Franziska could recall, though admittedly she had trouble recalling much of anything at the time. Adrian's nose nuzzled her hood and clitoris, shooting short bursts of warm air onto them with each breath. Her narrow tongue and wet lips devoured this particular meal with enough care and precision to melt even the most fiercely heterosexual woman alive. Within minutes, Franziska had made up her mind: this would not be an isolated incident. Adrian Andrews would be a person to keep in contact with. She was too rare a specimen.
Showing her appreciation the best way she knew how, Franziska rest her palm on the top of Adrian's head, spread her fingers wide, letting them explore her golden locks, and pushed the woman's blonde head closer against her body.
By now, the blonde woman's thighs were spread flat against the floor, grinding against the carpet through her pants. Franziska couldn't help but snicker as she took notice of this, and as she pressed Ms. Andrews's head closer to her still, she asked if she needed release.
Yes, mistress, was her muffled reply. Franziska, grinning like the grinch, rest her head on the back of the couch and purred softly. She began massaging Adrian's scalp, assuring her that the sooner she finished, the sooner she would be rewarded. Even as she spoke, telltale cracks in her voice told both women that such an event was rapidly approaching. Sure enough, it wasn't long before Franziska released a shuddering, toe-curling orgasm into Adrian's mouth.
A good twenty or thirty seconds passed as Franziska stared at the ceiling fan, sighing contentedly. Finally, she sat up straight and snatched the panties off of her ankle, crumpling them into a ball and shoving them into a startled Adrian's mouth.
She slid off the couch before her partner even had time to voice any muffled complaints and yanked a pair of sky-blue dress pants down a pair of slender legs. She resumed eye contact with her target, who smiled back at her - as much as somebody can smile with a panty-gag between their teeth - and pulled a noticeably wet pair of panties down to her ankles in the same fashion. She hoisted the woman's legs up, pulling her from a sitting position to a reclining one, so that she lay on her back; specifically, on her arms, which were still bound.
Franziska messed with the knot a bit, making sure that Adrian's hands were still tightly wrapped, but she got the whip's handle and a bit of slack out of the equation. She spread the woman's legs as wide as the crumpled pants circling her ankles would allow and set to work. Her tongue and the handle of her whip entered Adrian at the same moment, filling the room with stifled moans; the handle plunged clean past a beautiful, pink, salivating vulva. Franziska's tongue dove into the considerably narrower embrace of Adrian's anus.
They took vastly different approaches. The whip handle delivered slow, powerful strokes that filled Adrian completely, but infrequently; the wriggling tongue was focused primarily on speed, quickly lavishing every inch it could reach with saliva. Muffled squeals poured into the room as Adrian Andrews writhed beneath such treatment. In what seemed like mere seconds, an elongated pleasure moan spilled out of her as her legs launched into violent spasms. Franziska withdrew the whip, stunned, and glanced up at Ms. Andrews. Her face was beet-red, her glasses opaque with fog. A muffled cry of "Miftreff" left her, her breathing heavy and pained. A pleading tone hung from her voice and melted Franziska's cold heart.
This woman was a marvel. A precious gem to be polished and displayed. Franziska had bound and gagged her fair share of women - and men - in her life, but Adrian Andrews was the first she'd encountered who enjoyed it this much. The woman's labia were swollen with arousal and soaked with moisture, literally throbbing for more. How could even a proud von Karma refuse such a beautiful, hungry set of lips?
She lowered her tongue to this inviting entrance, gently flicking it against Adrian's swollen clitoris. Her wriggling tongue parted the labia like the red sea and began tasting the uppermost regions of its new surroundings, as if Franziska was attempting to lick her own upper lip from inside Adrian. She could hear a high-pitched scream pierce the air, muffled as it was, as the whip handle forced its way into Adrian's reddening back door. It had an easy enough time getting in, now that it was thoroughly slick with vaginal lubrication; likewise, the walls of her anus wore a fresh coating of saliva to ease the friction. Waves of equally piercing, equally muffled screams continued spilling out of the woman as the handle dove into her repeatedly.
If the frantic gyrations of her hips were any indication - moving in a figure-eight motion, doing her best to pull both tongue and whip handle deeper into her - these were not screams of pain, but of immense pleasure.
Franziska found herself so caught up in the excitement that, before she was even aware of it, two of her own fingers were bestowing a vigorous massage upon her own clitoris. Fueled by the tremendously arousing squeals that continued to flow from Adrian's mouth, the same two fingers soon migrated to the deepest regions of her vagina that they could reach. They craned and curled deep into her, searching for that magical spot.
Again, it seemed like only seconds had passed before another trembling orgasm struck Adrian's lower half. By now, the smell of sex filled the room, hanging in the air like a fog. But even that couldn't stay Franziska's hand. She wrenched the whip's handle from its current sheath only to bury it back inside of Adrian's slit, causing a single, muffled purr to waft from the woman's mouth. Using her hands to lift herself off of the carpet, Franziska crab walked towards her partner and unceremoniously plopped down inches away from her. She pulled Adrian's pants and panties off of her ankles and threw them to the floor.
Twisting her legs a bit so they wouldn't bang into Adrian's shins, she scooted closer and closer until she was able to sheath the other half of the whip handle within her own slit. It was smooth sailing from there. Pelvic thrusts all around. The whip handle was short enough that their labia were even able to kiss in vague tribadism. The two sets of hips entered a sort of contest with each other, each trying to thrust harder or faster than the other.
Since Franziska had the front end of the whip, part of the actual cord was inside of her, folded against the handle. Not that she minded in the slightest; this made the makeshift phallus filling her just slightly longer, tapered, and nearly twice as thick. Her tongue spilled out of her mouth, and she couldn't seem to stop beads of drool from dripping onto her suit.
They went at it this way for some time, continuing their attempts to outdo each other. For the majority of the event, the whip handle was invisible, masked by the sloppy union of their dripping vulva. Adrian seemed to blush with her entire body, most of her legs and torso turning red. Glowing with sweat as she was, her pink skin only made her even more adorable. It was enough of a nudge to send Franziska tumbling over the edge.
She'd had a bit of a headstart on the freshly-relieved Adrian, so she didn't feel guilty about finishing first. She lifted her shoulders, touching them to her neck, and exhaled a silent, satisfied breath as she clenched tightly around her whip.
When they were both satisfied, they laid there for a few minutes in silence. They glanced at each other and smiled. Eventually, Franziska helped Ms. Adrian Andrews stand up and untied her whip. Adrian bent down to collect her pants, stepping into them and her panties simultaneously.
A knock at the door. With a start, Adrian hastily buckled her pants. The door opened.
The panties! Adrian spit them out of her mouth, trying to hand them to Franziska. This foolishly foolish woman would ruin her! She batted the foolish woman's foolish arm away, adjusting her skirt, and Adrian quickly hid the pair of saliva-soaked panties behind her back.
Who should walk in but the foolish king of fools, Phoenix Wright. He looked... beat down. Like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.
It was a look Franziska had wanted to see him wear since they had met.
But something was... wrong. This wasn't the face of a man who had been defeated, or feared imminent defeat. This was the face of a man who was... tired. Tired of trying. Tired of living. What on earth had happened? Even Franziska, in the depths of her hatred, was concerned.
Not that she would ever say as much.
Maya was still nowhere to be seen. The little girl from the channeling case still tagged behind him, but she, too, looked tired. It was not a look that belonged on such a young girl. Something was wrong.
Not that she would ever say as much.
She asked, with all the class and tact of a von Karma, what Phoenix Wright was doing here.
He mumbled something about being "his" lawyer. That was when it dawned on her; this wasn't Adrian's hotel room, it was Matt Engarde's. The defendant.
Thinking of no better comeback, she accused that fool Wright of following her around.
To her great shock, it was not Wright, but the little girl who fought back. She accused Franziska of doing the following. Of following Scruffy.
Franziska couldn't help but laugh. She decided it would be all right to let them in on the secret. The detective wouldn't be meddling in her affairs any longer anyway.
She produced the Scruffytracker, explaining the device she had placed on the detective's coat and how this receiver told her where he was at all times.
With a huff, she excused herself, but not before reminding Adrian to think hard on what they had discussed.
Adrian stared at her, wearing a confused expression for a moment, then nodded as her memory returned to her.
Franziska's victory in this case was contingent on Adrian Andrews keeping her trap shut in court tomorrow. She would see to it that nothing would stop her. Nothing.
A wry grin spread across her face as she stomped through the hotel hallway.
She had left her panties with Adrian. She would conduct the rest of her investigation commando.
This was perfectly fine with her.
- 7
- 8
- 9
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Franziska's Memoirs