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The nipple clamps were a joke.
Well, kind of. Ema does already own a pair (two pairs, in case one breaks), so it’s not like she minds being taken up on it. But she wouldn’t usually introduce them to someone she’s had all of two one-night-stands with – except that some part of her really wanted to see Franziska von Karma’s reaction when she walked into a hotel room with a set of nipple clamps prominently displayed on the bedside table, next to a pair of detective’s handcuffs. Call it an experiment, if you will.
She’s seeing the results of her experiment now, written right across Franziska’s face, and it’s a lot more…predatory than she’d expected.
In a good way. The kind of way that sends a little shiver down her spine and makes her start speculating about other uses for that whip Franziska always carries (not that it hasn’t featured in a few really good fantasies already). But there’s something about that look that says, without a single word, Are you sure you want to do this, Ema Skye?
Hell yeah she’s sure.
“Ema Skye,” Franziska says. Her voice is low and dangerous and full of the same promise as that look. “I did not take you for the type.”
“Yeah, well –” Ema tries to look casual, and doesn’t think she succeeds. “If you’re not…”
“I,” Franziska says, still in that clipped, quiet, promising tone, “did not say that.”
And that’s how Ema finds herself backed up against the wall, with her vest off and her shirt unbuttoned, pulse pounding in her throat and between her legs as Franziska runs still-gloved fingers along the upper edge of Ema’s bra and says softly, “If you are at any point unhappy, you will tell me.”
“Sure –” Ema swallows at the spark in Franziska’s eyes, and decides she’d like to see more of that. “Got it…ma’am.”
“Hmm,” Franziska says thoughtfully. “We’ll work on that.”
And that’s all the warning Ema gets before Franziska pops the clasp on her bra with a single flick.
Gloved fingers pinch Ema’s nipples sharply, and she moans aloud before she can stop it. Franziska’s fingers are strong and precise, even if she’s not really trying to cause pain (yet, hopefully), and the thin leather between their skin adds an extra layer of sensory input that shivers deliciously down her spine. Fuck, maybe she should –
Franziska tweaks a nipple sharply enough to make Ema squeal. “Pay attention, Ema Skye.” Her voice drops a little further, into a low, throaty version of her courtroom tones, and if her fingers on Ema’s tits weren’t already fueling the desperate ache between her legs, that would have done it. “I do not like repeating myself.”
Ema has to swallow twice before she can get a sound to come out, with Franziska still pointedly cupping her breasts and pinching her nipples. “Noted, ma’am.”
Franziska holds eye contact for a long moment, slowly rolling a nipple between her fingers. Ema tries not to shiver at the slide of soft leather on hypersensitive skin, bringing a whole new dimension to the pressure on her tits and the burn of Franziska’s gaze.
Finally, Franziska nods, as if satisfied by whatever she’s seeing. “Stay right here and keep your hands at your sides.”
Ema’s tempted to finish shrugging off her shirt as soon as Franziska steps back, just to see what she’ll do – but it’s only a few steps to the bedside table, and Franziska is back in seconds with that spark in her eyes again. “So you can obey. Good.” Ema tips her head back, bracing for the initial sting of the nipple clamps – but Franziska smiles, sharp-edged as if she’s objecting in court, and holds out something else entirely.
“Cuff your hands behind your back, Ema Skye, and do it quickly.”
“...Okay.” Ema takes a deep breath and accepts the handcuffs, realizing – for the first time – that there’s a chance she’s in over her head.
But not that far.
Franziska lifts her hands to Ema’s tits again, taking her left nipple between thumb and forefinger just firmly enough to make it a warning. “Okay…?”
The handcuffs click shut, trapping Ema’s arms behind her back and pushing her chest forward right into Franziska’s hands. Heat coils in Ema’s belly, and she leans back against the wall to steady herself as her knees start trembling. “Okay, ma’am.”
Franziska’s smile turns smug, like the proverbial cat who knows she’s caught the canary. “Better.”
The first clamp locks tight around Ema’s left nipple, attached chain tugging lightly. The pain rolls right down to her clit, heady and sharp and fucking perfect contrasted against the softness of Franziska’s gloves, and another moan slips out before she can stop it.
Franziska smiles a little wider, and raises the second clamp.