A Rat's Ass

(Originally by Gentleman Jack)

A wave of relief waved over the sheriff as her tormentor slowly stood to her feet. She knew better than to entertain any hope of Molly showing mercy, but at that point anything was better than being trapped beneath her. Molly peered over her shoulder and giggled maniacally at what she saw. The weasel was practically tattooed to her massive rear, her puny body barely large enough to cover a single cheek and her head being positioned inches away from her asscrack. The wicked rodent swayed her hips a few times, marvelling as the hero remained firmly planted on her backside.

"This is a good look for you, sheriff. You seem a lot more at home being a decoration on my ass. I know you can't talk at the moment, so feel free to thank me later for showing you your place in the world" she taunted as she gave her ass a firm smack, grinning as the once proud lawwoman jiggled along with it.

Texas could barely register her taunting as she slipped in and out of consciousness. Her body ached all over, her nose burned from the stench of Molly's musky fur, and the taste of the rodent's sweat tainted her tastebuds. It would only get worse from there though, as the evil rat strutted out of the alley with her head held high and her cronies in tow. They were relentless in their mockery of the sheriff, laughing and jeering at her every step of the way. One of them went so far as to pick her hat up off the floor and blast a loud fart into it, her actions earning a laugh and nod of approval from their leader. Their merriment eventually petered out and by the time they reached their lair the novelty had worn off for much of the group. They gradually split off from Molly and went back to their usual business of scuttling through their home and scoping out Gold Springs in the cover of darkness.

Their leader was as giddy as a schoolgirl as she paced her makeshift bedchambers with an extra swivel in her hips. Her mind raced with all sorts of horrible ideas on how to go about making the sheriff’s final hours on this earth as miserable and agonizing as possible. She finally had the lawwoman in her clutches and she was determined to break both her body and her spirit. After thinking it over for some time, she eventually thought of the perfect punishment for the obnoxious little do-gooder: she would leave her where she was. Simple as that.

As far as she was concerned, the weasel’s life amounted to little more than the dirt in her fur and it only made sense for her to be regarded as such. She could think of no better way to illustrate how she felt about Texas and her like; crushed flat beneath the backside of her superior, her presence ignored and her existence treated as a non-factor in the rodent’s world. With that in mind, Molly made it a point to abstain from further acknowledging the sheriff and she went about her business, at least until she was in the mood to snuff her miserable life out.

For someone with such a bulky frame, Molly displayed a surprising amount of energy as she walked back and forth throughout her home, engaging in various activities throughout the day. When she wasn’t spending all of her time plotting against the sheriff, she was deeply immersed in her wicked crafts. She was either gathering materials and experimenting at her sinister workstation, or she was sitting down with her nose buried in a book of dubious origins. Not once did she pay Texas any mind, save for the few times were she cracked a smile as she let loose a powerful fart and felt her captive groan into her ass.

On the surface, this was probably the closest thing to mercy that she’d ever shown her one of her victims, but for Texas it was a punishment akin to Chinese Water ****. The sheriff had endured all manner of torment in her career, but this was wholly unique. The pain never seemed to dissipate for her, not even when Molly was on her feet. That might’ve alleviated her physical pain, but it did nothing to ease the mental **** she underwent with her face still pressed flat against the rodent’s rancid smelling ass. It was struggle for her to try and keep her wits about her. The moment Molly got bored, she would spring forth and attack. She just needed to wait it out...

Hours ticked by with little change. Back and forth Molly went, working on a project at one moment and reading at another. The only change made was that she would occasionally take a break to venture out of her room and converse with her minions about a piece of information they had gathered. The sheriff’s iron will was waning and her lungs were **** for clean air. Were she able to pull her head free from Molly’s rump, she would be begging, pleading, for her to show even the slightest bit of sympathy for her and spare her just a minute of reprieve. At that point, she would’ve even settled for a second.

More hours passed. Back and forth, workstation, reading, and the occasional (five-course) lunch break. Texas had reached the point of weeping. Molly’s butt had become her entire world and she was certain that she’d never be the same once the day was over. No amount of showering would remove the swampy stench from her fur and she would never be able to eat anything without tasting her sweat. Bringing Molly into justice was no longer a factor in her mind and all she could think to do was apologize to her tormentor in the hopes of placating her. Please, she thought Molly went to sit down for what had to have been the fiftieth time that day. I’ll do anything you want. Just let me go. Please….

Fortune smiled on her, as Molly stopped herself mid-descent and stood back up to her full height. At long last, she had finally tired of her game and decided to bring things to a close. She reached back and grabbed onto the sheriff’s flattened ponytail, smirking as it took her a few tries to peel her pathetic body free. She brought the weasel to her face and raised a brow at her expression. After what felt like an eternity of mind-numbing torment, the sheriff appeared to be...