Franziska's Memoirs

 

Chapter Warnings:

3, F/F/F, Oral, BDSM, Dom, Rape

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Of course, the next day, she wished she had pressed Lotta harder. The trial was a disaster. She was convinced that it would be over in minutes, but that foolish scumbag slimeball Wright had managed to worm his foolish way throughout an entire trial day. It had been largely the fault of a bumbling, scraggly detective who had missed some important clues, so she decided to take the investigation into her own hands. That afternoon she stormed into the small, Japanese village where the murder had occurred, determined to find some clues, some information that would crush Wright's foolishly foolish spiky head into dust.

She found that and so much more in Morgan Fey, the defendant's aunt and an important witness. Morgan had her hair done up in an enormous, complex bun, and wore an elegant kimono embroidered with hundreds of Japanese characters. Though her raspy voice and slight wrinkles made her age no mystery, she was still fairly attractive - to Franziska, at least. Under the guise of "questioning," she dragged the woman into a side room where a red-haired girl was napping. Not deterred in the slightest or even caring if the girl woke up, Franziska began her attack on the witness, shoving her to the tatami-mat floor with a thud as she slid her own panties off. The older woman fought the good fight, attempting to shove her aggressor away and roll away, but Franziska straddled her and refused to let go. Morgan called to the girl for help, and the redhead awoke groggily, rubbing her eyes. Franziska paid her no mind. She was both surprised and delighted to discover that Morgan wore absolutely nothing beneath her kimono. She took one of Morgan's legs over her shoulder and forced their nude labia together, grinding like mad. Morgan had a tremendous, wild patch of thick, black pubic hair, which wasn't quite to her tastes, but she could more than deal with it. The redhead crawled over to them and attempted to pull her away, but the perfect prosecutor simply pressed her gloved hand into the girl's face and shoved her hard. She fell to the floor, grunting in pain.



Franziska, in spite of herself, found the next few minutes hilarious. The redhead, who Morgan was calling Ini, tried desperately to wrestle her off of the woman. Franziska, meanwhile, was trying to wrestle Ini out of her clothes, all the while humping away at Morgan's crotch. She succeeded in getting the redhead's pants off, which she supposed was all that mattered, and threw her across the room by the hem of her sweater. Shocked by Franziska's strength, Ini stood up and made a break for the exit, likely to get help from the scruffy detective that had so magnificently screwed up in court today. Franziska lunged after her and grabbed her ankle, and she fell to the floor with another grunt. Satisfied, Franziska dragged her over as Morgan watched in horror. She yanked Ini's strawberry-print panties around her ankles and threw them over her shoulder. Lifting her into a sitting position, she forced Ini onto Morgan's chin, placing her more neatly trimmed crimson bush right on top of Morgan's mouth.



They were both stunned. Ini simply sat there for a moment, staring at Franziska's face, taking in what was happening.



It took some convincing, placing her hand on Ini's shoulder and pushing her body around in rhythm, a quick flash of her whip, but eventually they sort of got into it. Morgan, very slowly at first, began nervously tonguing Ini's entrance, gradually growing bolder as time went on. Yes, she only complied because she was being threatened at whip-point, but Franziska liked to think that she wound up kind of enjoying Ini's flavor. There were certainly worse women to be stuck in this position with.



Eventually, she even began to gently mirror Franziska's pelvic thrusts, though her enthusiasm was nowhere near a match for the proud von Karma. Still, as more and more of their natural lubrication left them, their labia had an increasingly easy time sliding across each other; Franziska had done this with enough women by now to know when the other party was enjoying it as well.



Ini, meanwhile, was still thoroughly confused. Her body was piloting itself; she nervously allowed Franziska to kiss her on the mouth as a pair of gloved hands slipped up her orange sweater, pinching and pulling at her sensitive nipples. Even through her veneer of dumbstruck confusion, Franziska could spot signs of genuine arousal; her face, neck and breasts were all blushing furiously, her breath had grown heavy, and her pert, pink nipples were totally erect. To the surprise of no one present, Ini came well ahead of anybody else. To the surprise of all present, however, she fell asleep on Franziska immediately afterwards. As the dumbstruck von Karma  lowered the ditzy redhead to the floor with a laugh, Morgan wiped her mouth off with her index finger. With her pinky, she pushed a lock of wet hair out of her eyes; sweat was beginning to undo her bun. The older woman crossed her arms, hiding her breasts from view. That would not do at all; Franziska took hold of her wrists and wrenched them apart, palming her breasts and allowing her fingers to sink into their flesh. She winced, though it seemed more out of arousal than out of pain. She refused to make eye contact all throughout, even as her face became slowly redder. Franziska was kneading her breasts now, and growing rougher and rougher with them. Her legs began to tremble, and she clapped her fingers over her mouth as she found her release. Morgan's class and modesty even as she came was delightfully entertaining, and Franziska continued grinding against the older woman's tired body until she reached her own climax.



Franziska got exactly what she needed: she got some incriminating testimony from both witnesses, and she got to take her mind off the trial for a bit. It was a new experience for her, dominating two women at once. She thoroughly enjoyed it, and Morgan and Ini didn't seem to fare too poorly either. Things were looking up.