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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
- 8
- 9
- 10
Chapter Warnings:
M/F, D/S, Anal, Toys, DP, Oral

Late that night, her investigation having been conducted to her satisfaction, she went over the details of the case in her hotel room. She sat on the bed, her back upright against the headrest. Two of the fingers on her left hand curled around the handle of a coffee mug; in her right hand was a thick stack of papers. Piles of papers, photos, and evidence were strewn about the surface of the bed, so much that it would be nearly impossible to sleep on in its current state. Perched on the tip of her nose was a pair of reading glasses. She rarely ever used them, her vision faring just fine without their assistance, but the significance of this case hung in the air over her head like a dark cloud, and she decided the tiny bit of extra clarity they offered her might come in handy as she studied the case reports.
Her preoccupation with the case bordered on obsession, so she had neglected doing laundry for far longer than she usually did. Besides the reading glasses, all she wore at the moment was a baggy pajama top that, quite honestly, covered as much of her thighs as her skirt usually did, and her least favorite pair of panties. Not counting the suit she planned to wear to court tomorrow, she was wearing the only two clean articles of clothing she had left. The rest of her wardrobe was piled sloppily in the corner of the room - minus one pair of panties in the possession of Ms. Adrian Andrews.
As she took a long sip of coffee, a startling knock at the door shook her out of the case files. She set the cup down on the nightstand and shimmied off the bed, cracking her knuckles as she trudged to the door.
Through the peephole was a tall man wearing an indecipherable facial expression that seemed half scowl, half smile. It was Miles Edgeworth.
She undid the chain, opened the door and pulled it all the way open, shooting him an icy stare. Icicles hung from her words and she greeted him by his full name. As if mocking her, he greeted her similarly, using her full name. She saw his eyes dart south exactly once, acknowledging her naked legs, and she couldn't help but smirk.
She lowered her head and rolled her eyes so that she peered at him over the top of her glasses. She breathed a dismissive sigh and let him know that she was rather busy at the moment.
Miles smirked and let her know how little he cared.
She forced herself not to blush.
Miles forced his way past her and into the room, rudely bumping his shoulder into hers. Eyeing the mess atop her bed, he asked to discuss the case.
Franziska released a hearty, uproarious laugh and closed the door, fixing the chain to it. There was nothing to discuss. This case, this victory belonged to her. There was nothing he could say - nothing anyone could say - that would convince her otherwise.
He shrugged in that same condescending way he so often did, shaking his head. He proposed that she stood no chance of winning the trial in her current state, that he had something she did not, something that would prohibit her from defeating Phoenix Wright.
Tears rolled down her face. Tears of laughter. She scoffed, pushing the glasses up her nose. What could he possibly know about defeating Phoenix Wright? This was the man who lost to Phoenix Wright three times and then ran away to hide from his mistakes. Even more than losing in court, she told him, it was hiding like a scared child that had really shamed the von Karma name.
He shook his head, assuring her that she would see what he meant in a few days, urging her to think about his words. There was nothing to think about, as far as she was concerned.
She sat on the edge of the bed, facing him, and they argued for a while. All throughout, she kept catching herself returning to his eyes - those eyes of his that seemed endless in their expanse. In the back of her mind, a small part of her started to believe him, started to believe that maybe there was something he had that she hadn't. Something he had found. Something that had changed him, that had made his eyes so deep and so full of conviction. These were not the eyes of a man who had so thoroughly shamed himself. These were the eyes of a proud man, a man with zero regrets. How could he look that way? How could he look at her that way?
Her concentration was broken when he asked her just what she was staring at. She hung her head in shame for a second and sighed. When she looked back up at him and sighed again, her face had her distinct scowl plastered across it. They stared at each other, trading scowls for a full minute., and something, some force, some other brain seemed to take over her body. She stood up, took his cravat in her fist, and pulled him towards her, kissing him hard on the lips.
Her actions were not met with surprise. They were not met with resistance. The events that followed did not unfold with awkwardness or confusion, or regret or hesitation.. They simply unfolded, as if they were the only events that could possibly have transpired right then and there.
They laid down on the bed, right on top of the papers and evidence, not even acknowledging that they were there. She unbuttoned his coat carefully and precisely. Any other coat would have been ripped open, the buttons popped off of it in haste, but that was simply how Franziska decided to open this particular coat - more accurately, how the mysterious other force told her to open it. At the time, it didn't strike either of them as odd in the slightest. She folded her arms, gripping the opposite corners of her baggy shirt, and deliberately lifted it over her bare breasts. Miles took them in his palms without a second thought.
In no time at all, they were each completely nude. A curious thing happened, though she paid it no mind then: She laid on her back as Miles hovered over her, supporting himself with his arms.
What was so curious, exactly? In her entire life, Franziska had never, not once, been on the bottom. But she voiced no objections, only urging him on as the pink head of his penis pressed against the folds of her labia.
It forced its way past her lips. She was so slick with arousal that it had an easy time slipping in to the hilt. It was a large penis, larger than average. There was no mistaking that, but it felt so much smaller than it did those five years ago. It certainly felt smaller than Scruffy's... she laughed to herself. Scruffy would manage to enter her mind at the moment when she least wanted him to.
It had been almost five years since she'd seen him. Even after all that time, this reunion seemed like business as usual, like it was fated to happen. Only their positions were reversed.
Make no mistake; even from beneath Miles, she was the one running the show. She wrapped her thighs around his hips, locking her ankles behind the small of his back. With fingernails digging deep into his shoulders, leaving deep red marks across them, she instructed his pace, urging him faster and faster.
He complied - what else would he do? - and she felt his warm shaft entering and exiting her more rapidly. Her breath sped up to match, assaulting his face with warm air.
Even as fast as they were going, this was not a carnal affair. It was...
Looking back on it, Franziska wasn't even sure she liked what it was. In fact, she was sure she didn't.
This event made her feel things she shouldn't have. Things she didn't want to feel. Things that seemed not entirely unlike... love.
But in that moment, she was just so damn aroused that she hadn't really noticed. The whole event just sort of happened on its own. Her brain wasn't instructing her body anymore, some outside force was. No, that wasn't quite right. She was not a puppet, her strings being pulled. She was... a conduit. An outlet. Her brain wasn't instructing her body... her heart was. Even then, she knew Miles was the same.
Instinctively, she reached up and placed her palm on his heart, as if feeling for some sign that that much was true. As if something like that were possible to feel. She could feel many things: his rapid heartbeat, the rise and fall of his chest as his lungs drew in shorter and quicker breaths, and what scarce chest hair her had - and was it ever scarce, compared to... no. He didn't exist right now. She traced the contours of his chest, discovering with a flutter that his pecs were a great deal more developed and lovely than they had been before. Her arms slipped beneath his, feeling his shoulder blades, which were also larger and manlier than they were years prior.
His penis seemed like it was beginning to radiate heat. A warmth spread through Franziska, beginning where he filled her and spreading to her fingers and toes. She ordered Miles to thrust more slowly... but harder.
He did so. And how heavenly it was. She was close.
She curled her fingers into a fist, her nails drawing blood from his shoulders. Her eyes clamped shut, and her red cheeks curled into a tight smile. Her voice cracked as she spoke his first name. Right then, as the "s" in "Miles" passed her lips, she reached her climax. It had been silent, but powerful.
Later that night, she would kick herself for failing to outlast a foolish fool like him.
She arched her back against the mattress, resting her head on her shoulder. She curled her toes tightly, wrinkling a piece of paper that lay beneath her foot. Who cared? All she cared about was Miles - his thick, hot penis still filling her repeatedly, drawing out her orgasm, lengthening it.
Eventually, she felt warm semen filling her and a delighted squeal nearly left her lips. She knew she had to choose between holding back the squeal or holding back another climax. She chose the former, barely managing to remain silent as a second wave of relief left her. Try as she might, though, there was no hiding the blood that filled her cheeks or the wince she made as sweet release found her.
Miles collapsed onto her, their cheeks pressing together. He drew his fingers slowly across her other cheek. They stared at each other for a moment until Franziska furrowed her brow, smiling a wry, arrogant smile, a smile that spoke of mock anger.
Calling him by his full name, she asked him if that was really all he had to give.
He stared at her for a moment.
She shoved him off of her, rolling over to kneel on the bed, crumpling numerous papers and documents beneath her knees. She reached behind herself and spread her behind apart with her fingers, offering herself to Miles.
By this time, her brain had regained control of her body. She had a plan, and it was very important to her that this plan succeed.
Fransizka was no stranger to sex. But in her lifetime, she had never made love. Until, it occurred to her, just now.
This embarrassed her. Of all people, it had to be with her brother. The only person who knew she even had a vulnerable side. It sickened her that this had happened. But it had.
So now that she and Miles had made love, it was time to rectify this matter. It was time to justify this event having occurred. It was time to fuck.
And fuck they did. He hesitated at first, but it didn't take more than a few barked orders before he slowly, reluctantly sheathed his manhood into her back door, with only a slick coating of semen for lubrication.
She licked her lips. Her tongue spilled out of her mouth as he sent her heaving across the mattress with each thrust. Soon, her arms gave out, leaving her face pressed against the pillows and her breasts flat against the mattress, her nipples tingling as they scraped across the fabric. Miles sunk his fingers into her fleshy behind, spreading her cheeks further apart. Her right hand pressed itself between her closed thighs, its middle finger probing her hood in search of her clitoris. One finger soon became two, and soon three of her fingers were acting as a surrogate phallus, snaking their way in and out of her cunny quickly and deliberately.
She managed to considerably outlast Miles this time, though the feel of his warm, thin seed pouring into her rear certainly sped things along. When she felt herself getting close, she snaked a hand under her pillow and produced her whip. Its handle plunged cleanly into her thirsty slit; at first, it filled her much more than he did, but soon the after-effects of his second consecutive ejaculation began to wear off, and his once-limp member stood back at full mast. He continued pounding away at her reddening behind, seeming even faster than before. In due time, Franziska unleashed a hot gasp and creamed all over her whip.
She ordered Miles to withdraw; when he did, she rolled over, sitting against the headboard as she had been when he arrived, and wrapped the whip around his neck, forcing him within centimeters of her slick, shimmering labia.
He hesitated, and she knew why: he had only minutes ago ejaculated into her. He glanced up at her, and as their eyes met, she realized for the first time that she was still wearing her reading glasses. She sneered down at him and pulled his head even closer against her.
She cared not what he thought of tasting his own semen. He might enjoy it. She had enjoyed fouler acts.
With a crack of the whip he obeyed. Though tentative at first, he eventually got bolder and more effective, his tongue attending to all the walls of her vagina. She ran her fingers through his silver hair, balling it in her fist, and pulling his head closer to her as she saw fit, barking directions. He ate her out fervently and she soaked in every second of it. She exhaled through pursed lips as he drove her to orgasm this way.
How she relished control.
As she fell asleep that night, she knew she had made a few mistakes. The most recent of which was agreeing to let Miles sleep in this room. In this bed. As they lay next to each other, mostly nude, she yanked a stack of papers out of his hand and chastised him for having the audacity to read up on her case details. She punctuated her lecture by using the rolled-up document to deliver a strong thwack to his forehead. This evening changed nothing. This case was still hers. She would give it to nobody.
He only laughed and nodded.
But she had a feeling in the back of her head that continued to nag at her even as she slept. She knew Miles would read the case information once she fell asleep. Every word of it. She knew he wouldn't be able to resist.
And yet... even knowing this, she fell asleep next to him. She never sent him away. A small part of her wanted him to read the files. A small part of her was counting on it. Deep in her brain, a small part of her wanted to see... to see just what it was he had meant before. What did he have that she didn't? What could keep her from winning this case?
Nothing, she assured herself. Nothing.
Or so she thought.
- 8
- 9
- 10
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Franziska's Memoirs