Emily Prentiss One-Shots

Emily/Irene Adler (Sherlock)**

Title: The Lethal Temptress - ArwenLalaith - (Ao3)

Summary: Something about being responsible for running an entire Interpol office made Emily crave submission. That is where The Woman came in...

Rating: Explicit

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 Something about being responsible for running an entire Interpol office made Emily crave submission.

That's not to say that she considered herself dominant in her everyday relationships. She had simply never been one to shy away from letting partners know what she wanted in bed and she had absolutely never apologized for knowing what she wanted. (Not that there had ever been all that many relationships, even before she moved across the ocean and became responsible for facilitating international police cooperation.)

As it was, she had very little time to have an ongoing relationship, not to mention the difficulties that went with being someone of such international importance...it wasn't as if she could go home with just anyone.

Sometimes, a woman just needed release without all the hassle of finding someone who was a decent human being and not going to murder you in your sleep, who was also attractive and not judgmental about liking Vonnegut. Which is where The Woman came in...

Once a month or so – because she had a heavy workload – more, if she'd had a rough case, she'd find herself on Miss Adler's doorstep, trying to draw as little attention to herself as possible...not because she was ashamed, she just didn't exactly relish the sort of scandal that might accompany her dalliances becoming public knowledge.

Irene never greeted her at the door. Her assistant Kate was always the one to let Emily in and direct her upstairs where she was to wait.

Emily stood waiting in the rather nondescript en-suite bathroom that seemed at odds with the dark room on the other side of the door where people went to be tortured to the point of sexual relief. She was fully clothed, as directed, waiting for her Mistress to arrive and instruct her.

She could hear the slow, purposeful clicking of heels down the hall that signified the arrival of Miss Adler. She kept her eyes cast towards the floor out of respect – she was never to look her Mistress in the eye unless ordered to.

Irene leaned against the door-frame, grinning silkily, running her eyes over the woman standing before her. "Undress," she ordered conversationally. Emily hesitated just a second or two in complying, but it was a split second too many and it earned her a sharp shout of, "Undress! Now." Irene brandished the riding crop she held, slapping it lightly against her palm.

Emily's fingers jolted to the buttons on her blouse as a small thrill ran down her spine. Her fingers were careful and deliberate on the buttons, desperate to please. She shrugged the garment off her shoulders and was about to let it fall to the floor.

"Fold it. Neatly."

Of course, she had been through this process before and knew that she was to fold it, but she enjoyed hearing the commands. Once stripped down to her lingerie (nicer than she usually wore because she tended to make it a practice to dress up for intimate encounters, even if they did involve a dominatrix), she stole a quick glance at her Mistress as she unhooked her bra, attempting to hide her smirk when she noticed the appreciative gaze roving her body.

Once fully unclothed, Emily was ordered to offer up her body for inspection, every detail of her body exposed. Her Mistress's gaze would invariably linger on the scars she had never explained but were obviously a source of self-consciousness, which was the appeal of the exercise. She occasionally had to struggle not to shy away under the intense scrutiny; she had never allowed anyone else to see the scars for fear that they might judge her, both for their ugly appearance and the knowledge that she'd slept (any maybe even loved) the man who'd given them to her. Irene never commented on the scars and Emily wasn't sure whether she'd dug into her background and had some idea of what they were from or whether she genuinely didn't care, content merely with the knowledge that her judgemental glare was enough to make Emily feel vulnerable.