ace attorney; whip cracks
TITLE: Whip Cracks
CHARACTERS: Adrian Andrews/Franziska von Karma
RATING: NC-17
WORD COUNT: 4,000
SUMMARY: Franziska gives Adrian a creative, albeit impromptu, lesson in using the whip.
NOTES: Happy New Year! Have some lesbian porn!
*
It's not often that Franziska finds herself restless, but when she does, she quickly and efficiently deals with the problem at hand. There's no reason for her to remain distracted from her work for long, but she also knows that there's no point in attempting to strive on through the mountain that is the paperwork atop her desk if she's going to complete it in a less than satisfactory manner. She puts her pen down, sorts the paper into neat piles - well, neater piles - and then sits back, one leg crossed over the other.
She waits. Ten minutes ago, Franziska called Adrian, and asked her to come to her office. Adrian, panicked for a reason that made little sense to Franziska, for if there really was a problem, she wouldn't have sounded so calm over the phone, had said that she'd be there in twenty minutes. Franziska expects her to arrive in fourteen.
In the supposed four minutes Franziska has until Adrian's arrival, she gets to her feet, and then for some foolish reason, actually looks around to ensure that her office is tidy. There's no possibly that it couldn't be, for it is a von Karma's office, after all, but Franziska has picked up several odd habits since she became entangled with Adrian, so to speak, and few of them make sense to her. Still, she looks around, and sees that not so much as a single item is out of place. She smiles, pleased, and allows herself to pace.
Adrian turns up no more than a second later than Franziska predicted, bringing in some of the cold with her as she steps into the room. Franziska can't help but laugh to herself, because despite the look on Adrian's face that says she should know better, but is terrified something's happened, she still took the time to be considerate and knock. She steps in, glances around, and when she sees that nothing's out of place, raises an eyebrow, trying to work out just what the matter could be.
“Franziska. Are you alright... ?” Adrian asks, and Franziska supposes that no, she doesn't really call Adrian all that often. It is something of an unusual occurrence, but hardly something worth becoming so worked up over.
“Adrian Andrews, you will relax at once,” Franziska says, hands immediately finding their place against Adrian's hips. She steps closer and pulls Adrian towards her in the same motion, lips brushing lightly against hers. “There is nothing to concern yourself with.”
And Adrian kisses back, for all of half a second. She seems to shake her head as she breaks her mouth away, as if to chide herself for nearly getting caught up in it all, and still has that horribly anxious expression cutting into her features. “But you-you called me all the way here, Franziska. And it's late. I can't help but feel that something's wrong.”
Franziska lets her gaze flicker away for a moment, over to her window. Behind the blinds, it's already pitch-black, and the street lights aren't doing much to fight against the darkness. She hadn't previously considered it to be particularly late, because she's used to working seemingly endless hours at times, but she understands why being called out at such a time might be cause for concern. Still, Franziska says nothing to eschew her fears, and leans in for a second kiss. Adrian allows her to hold it a little longer, this time, allows her hands to come and rest against her chest, but she pulls away all too quickly, still seeming to be ill at ease. Franziska isn't certain how she's doing such a remarkable job of pleading for an answer with the use of her eyes alone.
Tsk is about the only noise that passes Franziska's lips for a moment, because honestly, doesn't Adrian Andrews realise that she merely wants to kiss her? She wraps her arms tightly around her waist, pulling her closer, lest Adrian's worry cause her to attempt to wrangle free.
“There is no problem here, Adrian Andrews. I am not troubled, and my work is not troubling me. I...” she hesitates for a fraction of a fraction of a second, despite their close proximity, “I simply wished to see you. Is that not allowed?”
“Oh,” Adrian says, and she says it before actually taking stock of Franziska's words. Once she finally does, that familiar glow returns to her cheeks, and her arms slip seamlessly around Franziska's shoulders. “Oh. You should've said so, Franziska. You know I-well, I couldn't help but worry, you know?”
“Hmph.”
Franziska feels that her point is rather well made, because before she knows it, Adrian is kissing her properly this time, lips pressed into a smile against her own. She kisses her softly, slowly, in such a way that lets Franziska know that she feels silly for ever worrying in the first place, and Franziska gradually loosens her hold on her, so that her hands can tread paths across her back, down her sides. This is much better, she decides; like this, she has a clear-cut focus, something to pour all of her unshakable concentration into. Her gloved fingers press against Adrian's shoulder blades, at the back of her neck and below her ears, and like that, she knows that the restlessness she was foolishly subjecting herself to has flowed right out of her.
Adrian's fingertips idly thread through the tips of her hair, and Franziska thinks the way that Adrian carefully parts her lips, tongue slipping out in search of her own, is marvellously unassuming, and that Adrian has no idea that her occasional bouts of boldness actually exist at all. Franziska obliges her, tongue sliding against Adrian's, and is rewarded with a little gasp. However, just as she's taking the time to relish in the sound, she finds that Adrian has taken a step forward, and then another, somehow without her realising it; within a few moments, she feels the edge of her desk jut against the backs of her thighs.
Franziska frowns, breaking off the kiss, and Adrian pouts, as if she herself hasn't already opted to cut short two of their kisses today. It's perfectly justified.
“Despite what you may think, Adrian Andrews, I did not call you here so that we could 'make out' like a foolish pair of sexually-charged teenagers,” Franziska says bluntly, letting go of Adrian so that she can fold her arms across her chest, brow furrowed.
“Well, no. For one thing, I'm twenty-four,” Adrian says, almost sounding a little dumbfounded. Franziska likes that, likes the slight uncertainty in her voice, the hint of a daze she has about her. She brings her fingers up to her own lips, subconsciously brushing them where they still tingle. It was a rather impressive kiss, if she does say so herself. “If you don't mind me asking, why am I here?”
Franziska just sighs, fingers tapping against the top of her arm in a show of impatience. In truth, she's not so much irritated with the fact that Adrian doesn't know why she's there as the fact that she herself hasn't quite managed to come up with a reasonable explanation, but will not allow herself to falter for more than three seconds.
“-my whip.”
That, it seems, is the answer to everything.
“Your whip?” Adrian asks, moving up onto tiptoes to glance over Franziska's shoulder, searching it out on her desk.
“Yes, Adrian Andrews, my whip,” Franziska says, placing her hands against Adrian's shoulders to place her firmly back on the soles of her feet. “I have been teaching you to wield it, haven't I?”
She knows the answer is yes, and so doesn't even acknowledge the fact that Adrian nods.
“As such, I demand a progress report immediately,” Franziska says, and the way she speaks to Adrian isn't anything like the way she talks to the useless detectives and troublesome police officers that come by her office, but there's definitely something authoritative about it. “A demonstration, if you will.”
“I-alright?” Adrian says, and her apparent confusion at the sudden change of activities is enough to make her question even her own answer. Franziska nods shallowly, because Adrian's compliance was nothing short of expected, and then reaches back for her whip, not needing to take the trouble to turn and look for it. That done, with her hands back on Adrian's shoulders, she turns Adrian so that she's facing away from her.
She places the whip in Adrian's hand, glad when her fingers instinctively curl around the grip. Chin placed against her shoulder, Franziska watches as she slowly unfurls it between her ever-so slightly unsteady hands, grinning as the tip snakes its way down to the floor, the length of it swaying between Adrian's hand and the ground. At the same time, she finds that unwelcomed sense of restless bite back at her heels, and so places her own hands on Adrian's hips, fingers coming to rest against the slight dip she can just about feel through her jeans.
Adrian tenses, instinctively turns to look at Franziska, and then blinks when she finds herself short on words.
“The whip, Adrian Andrews,” Franziska says curtly, as if unaware of the way that she's moved on to very carefully hitching Adrian's shirt up, so that she can run her gloved fingertips across the small strip of skin exposed to her. “You're supposed to be using it.”
There's an unvoiced edge of laughter in her words, and Adrian picks up on it well enough, taking in a far deeper breath than is necessary. Franziska watches and waits, allowing herself to display patience for a few long seconds, resting against the edge of her desk, now. Adrian moves to lift her hand, hesitates, and when Franziska tilts her head so that her breath brushes against the shell of her ear, it seems as if she will not move at all. Franziska presses her hand flat against Adrian's stomach, and Adrian somehow manages to push past it, the handle of her whip held high above her head.
When Adrian brings it down, strength apparently having deserted her, there is no power behind her actions. The whip comes down against the office floor with no force at all, and it almost seems to flail in mid-air before slumping against the ground. There is no familiar crack filling the room, and Franziska scowls, disappointed. She bites at Adrian's ear, and hears her hold back a hiss.
“That was utterly pathetic, Adrian Andrews. What kind of fool do you take me for?” Franziska asks, one hand casually making its way up and down her thigh, through her jeans. “After all, I am more than aware of the fact that I have taught you better than that. You are capable of far more, and I had believed that your actions would not leave either one of us embarrassed.”
“Franziska, I-” Adrian begins to protest, and Franziska cuts it mercifully short by running the tip of her tongue across her throat.
“Again,” Franziska commands, and Adrian shows no hesitance, having learnt from her previous mistakes. The whip comes down against the floor, and although there is some snap in it, Franziska knows that she could've done much better.
Of course, there is the issue of Adrian being slightly distracted, and Franziska supposes only she can be blamed for that. It is, however, impossible to resist Adrian for long, what with her pressed so close to her and the whip in her hand. She can hardly scold herself for the way that her hands run across her body, under her shirt and over her jeans, enjoying the feel of Adrian Andrews, even through her tough leather gloves. She nibbles against the side of her neck, hand lazily making its way up to take hold of one of her breasts, though Adrian's bra does a lot to get in the way.
“Better,” Franziska eventually murmurs, and Adrian makes this dazed little questioning sound that tells Franziska she really isn't sure of what she's saying. She laughs, sucking on Adrian's earlobe as she simultaneously does all that she can to twist closer to and away from her, body tensing and arching every time her fingers patter across the right spot.
“Franziska-” Adrian begins, and it's almost a whine. Franziska can tell that Adrian's going to great lengths to hold herself together, “We shouldn't. Not in your office, I...”
“Tsk, tsk,” Franziska says, doing her the favour of cutting her short when it seems that Adrian isn't going to string any meaningful sentences together. “Do not concern yourself with that, Adrian Andrews. It is, as you've said, late; there are likely to be very few individuals in the building, and none of them would be so foolish as to come into my office without knocking first.”
“Yes, but-” Again, Adrian doesn't succeed in getting very far into a sentence, although this time Franziska's wandering fingers are to blame. She unbuttons the front of her jeans almost nonchalantly, and Adrian bites down on her lower lip, as if chiding herself for the way that her hips buck forward. “If someone comes in... ”
The whole of Adrian's shirt is hitched up at the front now, and Franziska runs a single finger across the edge of her bra, hooking around the fabric so that she can put it down.
“If somebody wishes to come in, then I shall hide you. Beneath my desk, perhaps,” Franziska muses, and then isn't entirely sure whether it's the way her fingers brush against Adrian's nipple that makes her moan, or the words themselves. Never being content with not knowing something for certain, Franziska decides to push her further, first two fingers and thumb rubbing Adrian's nipple through her glove as she speaks. “Hah! I suppose you would like that, wouldn't you? I wonder how much difficulty I would have in keeping my composure during meetings with you there-not too much, of course, as a von Karma is capable of conducting business perfectly, no matter the circumstances, but I believe it would make things somewhat more interesting.”
Adrian's reply this time is a wonderfully throaty moan, and she reaches back, clinging at the fabric of Franziska's skirt with her free hand. Franziska slips her hand between Adrian's underwear and her jeans, and sucks long and hard at her neck before thinking to correct Adrian's behaviour. She breaks her mouth away from her throat, lips pressed against her ear as she speaks.
“You are supposed to be demonstrating your progress with the whip, not clinging to me with wanton abandon, Adrian Andrews,” Franziska says, and feels that she makes her point very clear in the way that she doesn't move so much as a muscle in the hand slid down the front of Adrian's pants, even if Adrian seems to think that grinding herself against her fingers will make Franziska move in some way.
“Please tell me that you're joking, Franziska,” Adrian says in a weak voice, gasping and whimpering every time that Franziska continues to palm her hand against her breast.
“Let me assure you, Adrian Andrews, that if I was currently in possession of my whip, you would hear it resounding through my office at this very moment! A von Karma does not joke about serious matters, and you should be perfectly aware that there is no issue more serious than that of my whip.”
“You're making it rather-” Adrian pauses with a gasp, lips curling into a smile when she finds just the right spot to work herself against Franziska's still fingers, “Rather difficult to focus.”
It is a ridiculous excuse, Franziska decides, because she has done far more than this to Adrian in the past. For one thing, only one of her hands is moving, and Adrian has been permitted to keep her clothing on. Still, it can't be said that Franziska hasn't learnt to compromise, when it comes to the matter of Adrian Andrews.
“Hm. Would it help if I removed my gloves?”
“-no.”
Adrian's answer, as she expected it would, came a little too quickly. Franziska grins, closing her eyes, taking in all of Adrian's little reactions, the way that her body writhes beneath her hands where she isn't used to the friction that the leather makes against her skin.
“I see. Rest assured that I will remove not only my gloves, but my hands as well, if you don't start being more cooperative with me.” Adrian, head tilted back, pushed up on tiptoes in a desperate attempt to get something more from Franziska's fingers, lets out a pleading little moan, and though she'd never let her know it, Franziska isn't certain that she really has it in her to break away. She doesn't know how she's kept her fingertips still for so long, either. “You will produce ten cracks from the whip. Now.”
Adrian, not seeing that she has any other choice, brings up the whip, thrashing it down against the floor. Once, twice, three times. Franziska watches through half-lidded eyes, working on tugging down all of Adrian's bra, so that she she can run her hands across both of her breasts. Four times, five times. It's taking longer and longer between each crack of the whip for Adrian to bring it back up again. Six, seven, eight times, and there's barely any noise coming from the whip at all.
“You will repeat those last two pathetic attempts, Adrian Andrews,” Franziska says slowly, and then bites at her neck when she whines in protest, “And then, once you have reached your target, if I am satisfied with your progress, I may be persuaded to take this further.”
Adrian screws her eyes shut tightly, teeth grit, and uses the last of the strength she can muster to bring the whip down again and again. Crack, crack, crack, crack.
Her arm falls limply at her side, and she's barely holding onto the whip, but some part of her still retains enough sense to reach back and place it on top of the desk. Franziska smiles, pleased; there was enough strength in her arm, despite any persistent distractions, and she's apparently learnt to respect Franziska's whip. That's enough for her. She pulls her hand from the front of Adrian's pants, ignoring a disappointed little whimper, and covers both of Adrian's breasts, slowly circling her palms against her nipples.
“Very good,” Franziska says, “I suppose only a fool would not reward you for all your hard work. I will not object if you wish to sit on my desk.”
“I...” Adrian's voice is groggy, almost. “Your desk?”
“Yes. In front of the chair,” Franziska casually says, letting go of Adrian, pushing her away just enough so that she can fold her arms across her chest, waiting for her to take her advice and move.
Adrian, however, just stands there, at a loss of what to do. She doesn't even move to rearrange her clothing, to pull her shirt back down, and Franziska sighs, taking her leave. Moving around the desk, she seats herself down against her leather chair, leaning back on it, hands rested against the arms. With an eyebrow raised, Franziska watches Adrian stand there dazed for a moment, and then, realising that she herself has no desire to wait, pats the area of desk directly in front of her.
By this point, Adrian's skin is beautifully red, and in that instant, she seems to realise that she can't possibly end up any more embarrassed. She follows Franziska around to the other side of the desk, and once she's stood by her chair, takes hold of one of the arms for balance, and quickly begins tugging her pants and underwear off. Franziska watches from the corner of her eye, hand resting against Adrian's waist when she shows signs of beginning to sway.
After this, Adrian does the both of them a favour and wastes no more time. She turns, hands resting on the edge of the desk and hoists herself up into a sitting position, and Franziska places her hands against the sides of her thighs, helping her shift so that she's directly in front of her. This is much more tolerable, Franziska decides, taking a moment to enjoy the look on Adrian's face as she takes hold of her ankles and places her feet atop the arms of her chairs, and then drags the leather of her gloves up the inside of her thighs.
Franziska doesn't allow things to remain calm for long, however. Before Adrian has a chance to become accustomed to the new position, she lowers her lips between her legs. Adrian gasps and twists and bucks, and Franziska is already flicking her tongue against her and working her mouth, taking in the heat of it all, making sure that her hands continue their paths up and down the inside of her thighs. Adrian's hands are in her hair and her head's tilted back, and she moans out freely, hips rocking towards Franziska's mouth, and she's completely given herself over Franziska, has decided to trust that nobody's going to walk in on them, because the desperation of the situation Franziska's put her in is all too much.
Moaning out her name, Adrian finally falls slack beneath her, and Franziska breaks her mouth away a moment later, so that she can look up at her, and watch the way she unravels. Her chest heaves and her brow is damp with sweat, glasses having slid halfway down her nose, but there is this wonderful, wholly-satisfied smile pressed across her lips that lets Franziska know that she has enjoyed every last second that Franziska's put her through.
Naturally, it's the expected reaction. Franziska grins, pulling Adrian towards her, and she wraps her arms around her shoulders, bundled up in her lap.
“That has certainly cleared my head,” Franziska states, brushing Adrian's hair out of her eyes.
Adrian laughs softly under her breath, and spares a glance around the room, at the paper stacked up on her desk.
“You couldn't work, Franziska?” Adrian asks, dropping her head against her shoulder. “If you'd just told me, I wouldn't have initially been so reluctant.”
“Anything to help-is that how it is, Adrian Andrews?” Franziska asks with a breathy laugh, “Either way, it was not that I was unable to work. I was simply having a - disagreement with the paperwork. It did not wish to be filled in, whereas I wished to put pen to paper and get it done for once and for all.”
Adrian laughs, and for once, Franziska finds that she doesn't particularly mind if she's being laughed at. Adrian takes hold of her discarded clothing when Franziska scoops it up from the floor for her, shifts as if she's going to attempt putting it back on, but makes no other movements.
“Did I help, at least?”
“Naturally,” Franziska says, gloves grazing over her bare legs. “You always do.”
CHARACTERS: Adrian Andrews/Franziska von Karma
RATING: NC-17
WORD COUNT: 4,000
SUMMARY: Franziska gives Adrian a creative, albeit impromptu, lesson in using the whip.
NOTES: Happy New Year! Have some lesbian porn!
*
It's not often that Franziska finds herself restless, but when she does, she quickly and efficiently deals with the problem at hand. There's no reason for her to remain distracted from her work for long, but she also knows that there's no point in attempting to strive on through the mountain that is the paperwork atop her desk if she's going to complete it in a less than satisfactory manner. She puts her pen down, sorts the paper into neat piles - well, neater piles - and then sits back, one leg crossed over the other.
She waits. Ten minutes ago, Franziska called Adrian, and asked her to come to her office. Adrian, panicked for a reason that made little sense to Franziska, for if there really was a problem, she wouldn't have sounded so calm over the phone, had said that she'd be there in twenty minutes. Franziska expects her to arrive in fourteen.
In the supposed four minutes Franziska has until Adrian's arrival, she gets to her feet, and then for some foolish reason, actually looks around to ensure that her office is tidy. There's no possibly that it couldn't be, for it is a von Karma's office, after all, but Franziska has picked up several odd habits since she became entangled with Adrian, so to speak, and few of them make sense to her. Still, she looks around, and sees that not so much as a single item is out of place. She smiles, pleased, and allows herself to pace.
Adrian turns up no more than a second later than Franziska predicted, bringing in some of the cold with her as she steps into the room. Franziska can't help but laugh to herself, because despite the look on Adrian's face that says she should know better, but is terrified something's happened, she still took the time to be considerate and knock. She steps in, glances around, and when she sees that nothing's out of place, raises an eyebrow, trying to work out just what the matter could be.
“Franziska. Are you alright... ?” Adrian asks, and Franziska supposes that no, she doesn't really call Adrian all that often. It is something of an unusual occurrence, but hardly something worth becoming so worked up over.
“Adrian Andrews, you will relax at once,” Franziska says, hands immediately finding their place against Adrian's hips. She steps closer and pulls Adrian towards her in the same motion, lips brushing lightly against hers. “There is nothing to concern yourself with.”
And Adrian kisses back, for all of half a second. She seems to shake her head as she breaks her mouth away, as if to chide herself for nearly getting caught up in it all, and still has that horribly anxious expression cutting into her features. “But you-you called me all the way here, Franziska. And it's late. I can't help but feel that something's wrong.”
Franziska lets her gaze flicker away for a moment, over to her window. Behind the blinds, it's already pitch-black, and the street lights aren't doing much to fight against the darkness. She hadn't previously considered it to be particularly late, because she's used to working seemingly endless hours at times, but she understands why being called out at such a time might be cause for concern. Still, Franziska says nothing to eschew her fears, and leans in for a second kiss. Adrian allows her to hold it a little longer, this time, allows her hands to come and rest against her chest, but she pulls away all too quickly, still seeming to be ill at ease. Franziska isn't certain how she's doing such a remarkable job of pleading for an answer with the use of her eyes alone.
Tsk is about the only noise that passes Franziska's lips for a moment, because honestly, doesn't Adrian Andrews realise that she merely wants to kiss her? She wraps her arms tightly around her waist, pulling her closer, lest Adrian's worry cause her to attempt to wrangle free.
“There is no problem here, Adrian Andrews. I am not troubled, and my work is not troubling me. I...” she hesitates for a fraction of a fraction of a second, despite their close proximity, “I simply wished to see you. Is that not allowed?”
“Oh,” Adrian says, and she says it before actually taking stock of Franziska's words. Once she finally does, that familiar glow returns to her cheeks, and her arms slip seamlessly around Franziska's shoulders. “Oh. You should've said so, Franziska. You know I-well, I couldn't help but worry, you know?”
“Hmph.”
Franziska feels that her point is rather well made, because before she knows it, Adrian is kissing her properly this time, lips pressed into a smile against her own. She kisses her softly, slowly, in such a way that lets Franziska know that she feels silly for ever worrying in the first place, and Franziska gradually loosens her hold on her, so that her hands can tread paths across her back, down her sides. This is much better, she decides; like this, she has a clear-cut focus, something to pour all of her unshakable concentration into. Her gloved fingers press against Adrian's shoulder blades, at the back of her neck and below her ears, and like that, she knows that the restlessness she was foolishly subjecting herself to has flowed right out of her.
Adrian's fingertips idly thread through the tips of her hair, and Franziska thinks the way that Adrian carefully parts her lips, tongue slipping out in search of her own, is marvellously unassuming, and that Adrian has no idea that her occasional bouts of boldness actually exist at all. Franziska obliges her, tongue sliding against Adrian's, and is rewarded with a little gasp. However, just as she's taking the time to relish in the sound, she finds that Adrian has taken a step forward, and then another, somehow without her realising it; within a few moments, she feels the edge of her desk jut against the backs of her thighs.
Franziska frowns, breaking off the kiss, and Adrian pouts, as if she herself hasn't already opted to cut short two of their kisses today. It's perfectly justified.
“Despite what you may think, Adrian Andrews, I did not call you here so that we could 'make out' like a foolish pair of sexually-charged teenagers,” Franziska says bluntly, letting go of Adrian so that she can fold her arms across her chest, brow furrowed.
“Well, no. For one thing, I'm twenty-four,” Adrian says, almost sounding a little dumbfounded. Franziska likes that, likes the slight uncertainty in her voice, the hint of a daze she has about her. She brings her fingers up to her own lips, subconsciously brushing them where they still tingle. It was a rather impressive kiss, if she does say so herself. “If you don't mind me asking, why am I here?”
Franziska just sighs, fingers tapping against the top of her arm in a show of impatience. In truth, she's not so much irritated with the fact that Adrian doesn't know why she's there as the fact that she herself hasn't quite managed to come up with a reasonable explanation, but will not allow herself to falter for more than three seconds.
“-my whip.”
That, it seems, is the answer to everything.
“Your whip?” Adrian asks, moving up onto tiptoes to glance over Franziska's shoulder, searching it out on her desk.
“Yes, Adrian Andrews, my whip,” Franziska says, placing her hands against Adrian's shoulders to place her firmly back on the soles of her feet. “I have been teaching you to wield it, haven't I?”
She knows the answer is yes, and so doesn't even acknowledge the fact that Adrian nods.
“As such, I demand a progress report immediately,” Franziska says, and the way she speaks to Adrian isn't anything like the way she talks to the useless detectives and troublesome police officers that come by her office, but there's definitely something authoritative about it. “A demonstration, if you will.”
“I-alright?” Adrian says, and her apparent confusion at the sudden change of activities is enough to make her question even her own answer. Franziska nods shallowly, because Adrian's compliance was nothing short of expected, and then reaches back for her whip, not needing to take the trouble to turn and look for it. That done, with her hands back on Adrian's shoulders, she turns Adrian so that she's facing away from her.
She places the whip in Adrian's hand, glad when her fingers instinctively curl around the grip. Chin placed against her shoulder, Franziska watches as she slowly unfurls it between her ever-so slightly unsteady hands, grinning as the tip snakes its way down to the floor, the length of it swaying between Adrian's hand and the ground. At the same time, she finds that unwelcomed sense of restless bite back at her heels, and so places her own hands on Adrian's hips, fingers coming to rest against the slight dip she can just about feel through her jeans.
Adrian tenses, instinctively turns to look at Franziska, and then blinks when she finds herself short on words.
“The whip, Adrian Andrews,” Franziska says curtly, as if unaware of the way that she's moved on to very carefully hitching Adrian's shirt up, so that she can run her gloved fingertips across the small strip of skin exposed to her. “You're supposed to be using it.”
There's an unvoiced edge of laughter in her words, and Adrian picks up on it well enough, taking in a far deeper breath than is necessary. Franziska watches and waits, allowing herself to display patience for a few long seconds, resting against the edge of her desk, now. Adrian moves to lift her hand, hesitates, and when Franziska tilts her head so that her breath brushes against the shell of her ear, it seems as if she will not move at all. Franziska presses her hand flat against Adrian's stomach, and Adrian somehow manages to push past it, the handle of her whip held high above her head.
When Adrian brings it down, strength apparently having deserted her, there is no power behind her actions. The whip comes down against the office floor with no force at all, and it almost seems to flail in mid-air before slumping against the ground. There is no familiar crack filling the room, and Franziska scowls, disappointed. She bites at Adrian's ear, and hears her hold back a hiss.
“That was utterly pathetic, Adrian Andrews. What kind of fool do you take me for?” Franziska asks, one hand casually making its way up and down her thigh, through her jeans. “After all, I am more than aware of the fact that I have taught you better than that. You are capable of far more, and I had believed that your actions would not leave either one of us embarrassed.”
“Franziska, I-” Adrian begins to protest, and Franziska cuts it mercifully short by running the tip of her tongue across her throat.
“Again,” Franziska commands, and Adrian shows no hesitance, having learnt from her previous mistakes. The whip comes down against the floor, and although there is some snap in it, Franziska knows that she could've done much better.
Of course, there is the issue of Adrian being slightly distracted, and Franziska supposes only she can be blamed for that. It is, however, impossible to resist Adrian for long, what with her pressed so close to her and the whip in her hand. She can hardly scold herself for the way that her hands run across her body, under her shirt and over her jeans, enjoying the feel of Adrian Andrews, even through her tough leather gloves. She nibbles against the side of her neck, hand lazily making its way up to take hold of one of her breasts, though Adrian's bra does a lot to get in the way.
“Better,” Franziska eventually murmurs, and Adrian makes this dazed little questioning sound that tells Franziska she really isn't sure of what she's saying. She laughs, sucking on Adrian's earlobe as she simultaneously does all that she can to twist closer to and away from her, body tensing and arching every time her fingers patter across the right spot.
“Franziska-” Adrian begins, and it's almost a whine. Franziska can tell that Adrian's going to great lengths to hold herself together, “We shouldn't. Not in your office, I...”
“Tsk, tsk,” Franziska says, doing her the favour of cutting her short when it seems that Adrian isn't going to string any meaningful sentences together. “Do not concern yourself with that, Adrian Andrews. It is, as you've said, late; there are likely to be very few individuals in the building, and none of them would be so foolish as to come into my office without knocking first.”
“Yes, but-” Again, Adrian doesn't succeed in getting very far into a sentence, although this time Franziska's wandering fingers are to blame. She unbuttons the front of her jeans almost nonchalantly, and Adrian bites down on her lower lip, as if chiding herself for the way that her hips buck forward. “If someone comes in... ”
The whole of Adrian's shirt is hitched up at the front now, and Franziska runs a single finger across the edge of her bra, hooking around the fabric so that she can put it down.
“If somebody wishes to come in, then I shall hide you. Beneath my desk, perhaps,” Franziska muses, and then isn't entirely sure whether it's the way her fingers brush against Adrian's nipple that makes her moan, or the words themselves. Never being content with not knowing something for certain, Franziska decides to push her further, first two fingers and thumb rubbing Adrian's nipple through her glove as she speaks. “Hah! I suppose you would like that, wouldn't you? I wonder how much difficulty I would have in keeping my composure during meetings with you there-not too much, of course, as a von Karma is capable of conducting business perfectly, no matter the circumstances, but I believe it would make things somewhat more interesting.”
Adrian's reply this time is a wonderfully throaty moan, and she reaches back, clinging at the fabric of Franziska's skirt with her free hand. Franziska slips her hand between Adrian's underwear and her jeans, and sucks long and hard at her neck before thinking to correct Adrian's behaviour. She breaks her mouth away from her throat, lips pressed against her ear as she speaks.
“You are supposed to be demonstrating your progress with the whip, not clinging to me with wanton abandon, Adrian Andrews,” Franziska says, and feels that she makes her point very clear in the way that she doesn't move so much as a muscle in the hand slid down the front of Adrian's pants, even if Adrian seems to think that grinding herself against her fingers will make Franziska move in some way.
“Please tell me that you're joking, Franziska,” Adrian says in a weak voice, gasping and whimpering every time that Franziska continues to palm her hand against her breast.
“Let me assure you, Adrian Andrews, that if I was currently in possession of my whip, you would hear it resounding through my office at this very moment! A von Karma does not joke about serious matters, and you should be perfectly aware that there is no issue more serious than that of my whip.”
“You're making it rather-” Adrian pauses with a gasp, lips curling into a smile when she finds just the right spot to work herself against Franziska's still fingers, “Rather difficult to focus.”
It is a ridiculous excuse, Franziska decides, because she has done far more than this to Adrian in the past. For one thing, only one of her hands is moving, and Adrian has been permitted to keep her clothing on. Still, it can't be said that Franziska hasn't learnt to compromise, when it comes to the matter of Adrian Andrews.
“Hm. Would it help if I removed my gloves?”
“-no.”
Adrian's answer, as she expected it would, came a little too quickly. Franziska grins, closing her eyes, taking in all of Adrian's little reactions, the way that her body writhes beneath her hands where she isn't used to the friction that the leather makes against her skin.
“I see. Rest assured that I will remove not only my gloves, but my hands as well, if you don't start being more cooperative with me.” Adrian, head tilted back, pushed up on tiptoes in a desperate attempt to get something more from Franziska's fingers, lets out a pleading little moan, and though she'd never let her know it, Franziska isn't certain that she really has it in her to break away. She doesn't know how she's kept her fingertips still for so long, either. “You will produce ten cracks from the whip. Now.”
Adrian, not seeing that she has any other choice, brings up the whip, thrashing it down against the floor. Once, twice, three times. Franziska watches through half-lidded eyes, working on tugging down all of Adrian's bra, so that she she can run her hands across both of her breasts. Four times, five times. It's taking longer and longer between each crack of the whip for Adrian to bring it back up again. Six, seven, eight times, and there's barely any noise coming from the whip at all.
“You will repeat those last two pathetic attempts, Adrian Andrews,” Franziska says slowly, and then bites at her neck when she whines in protest, “And then, once you have reached your target, if I am satisfied with your progress, I may be persuaded to take this further.”
Adrian screws her eyes shut tightly, teeth grit, and uses the last of the strength she can muster to bring the whip down again and again. Crack, crack, crack, crack.
Her arm falls limply at her side, and she's barely holding onto the whip, but some part of her still retains enough sense to reach back and place it on top of the desk. Franziska smiles, pleased; there was enough strength in her arm, despite any persistent distractions, and she's apparently learnt to respect Franziska's whip. That's enough for her. She pulls her hand from the front of Adrian's pants, ignoring a disappointed little whimper, and covers both of Adrian's breasts, slowly circling her palms against her nipples.
“Very good,” Franziska says, “I suppose only a fool would not reward you for all your hard work. I will not object if you wish to sit on my desk.”
“I...” Adrian's voice is groggy, almost. “Your desk?”
“Yes. In front of the chair,” Franziska casually says, letting go of Adrian, pushing her away just enough so that she can fold her arms across her chest, waiting for her to take her advice and move.
Adrian, however, just stands there, at a loss of what to do. She doesn't even move to rearrange her clothing, to pull her shirt back down, and Franziska sighs, taking her leave. Moving around the desk, she seats herself down against her leather chair, leaning back on it, hands rested against the arms. With an eyebrow raised, Franziska watches Adrian stand there dazed for a moment, and then, realising that she herself has no desire to wait, pats the area of desk directly in front of her.
By this point, Adrian's skin is beautifully red, and in that instant, she seems to realise that she can't possibly end up any more embarrassed. She follows Franziska around to the other side of the desk, and once she's stood by her chair, takes hold of one of the arms for balance, and quickly begins tugging her pants and underwear off. Franziska watches from the corner of her eye, hand resting against Adrian's waist when she shows signs of beginning to sway.
After this, Adrian does the both of them a favour and wastes no more time. She turns, hands resting on the edge of the desk and hoists herself up into a sitting position, and Franziska places her hands against the sides of her thighs, helping her shift so that she's directly in front of her. This is much more tolerable, Franziska decides, taking a moment to enjoy the look on Adrian's face as she takes hold of her ankles and places her feet atop the arms of her chairs, and then drags the leather of her gloves up the inside of her thighs.
Franziska doesn't allow things to remain calm for long, however. Before Adrian has a chance to become accustomed to the new position, she lowers her lips between her legs. Adrian gasps and twists and bucks, and Franziska is already flicking her tongue against her and working her mouth, taking in the heat of it all, making sure that her hands continue their paths up and down the inside of her thighs. Adrian's hands are in her hair and her head's tilted back, and she moans out freely, hips rocking towards Franziska's mouth, and she's completely given herself over Franziska, has decided to trust that nobody's going to walk in on them, because the desperation of the situation Franziska's put her in is all too much.
Moaning out her name, Adrian finally falls slack beneath her, and Franziska breaks her mouth away a moment later, so that she can look up at her, and watch the way she unravels. Her chest heaves and her brow is damp with sweat, glasses having slid halfway down her nose, but there is this wonderful, wholly-satisfied smile pressed across her lips that lets Franziska know that she has enjoyed every last second that Franziska's put her through.
Naturally, it's the expected reaction. Franziska grins, pulling Adrian towards her, and she wraps her arms around her shoulders, bundled up in her lap.
“That has certainly cleared my head,” Franziska states, brushing Adrian's hair out of her eyes.
Adrian laughs softly under her breath, and spares a glance around the room, at the paper stacked up on her desk.
“You couldn't work, Franziska?” Adrian asks, dropping her head against her shoulder. “If you'd just told me, I wouldn't have initially been so reluctant.”
“Anything to help-is that how it is, Adrian Andrews?” Franziska asks with a breathy laugh, “Either way, it was not that I was unable to work. I was simply having a - disagreement with the paperwork. It did not wish to be filled in, whereas I wished to put pen to paper and get it done for once and for all.”
Adrian laughs, and for once, Franziska finds that she doesn't particularly mind if she's being laughed at. Adrian takes hold of her discarded clothing when Franziska scoops it up from the floor for her, shifts as if she's going to attempt putting it back on, but makes no other movements.
“Did I help, at least?”
“Naturally,” Franziska says, gloves grazing over her bare legs. “You always do.”