Frankie had left the house at noon, and it was nearing 5:30 by the time she turned onto their street. She hadn’t dared to risk the bus; she still smelled of piss and garbage, and she feared the looks and words of strangers even though she knew deep down she shouldn’t. 


The sun had broken free of the morning clouds and made her sweat under her leather jacket. She shrugged out of it and slung it over her shoulder, trying to peel her tank-top off of her soaked front to get some better ventilation going. She gingerly tried to readjust the painful wedgie her panties had ridden up into, pressing into her bruised folds. Her crotch still throbbed, made all the worse by the long walk with breaks only when it got unbearable. She didn’t want Tess to see her like this. She usually got home late (as an assistant to one of the most influential contractors in the state, there seemed to be an endless amount of projects requiring her approval) so Frankie wasn’t terribly worried of her younger sister getting home before her. Still, the thought of getting out of her current attire incentivized her to hurry.


As she neared her home she saw a familiar tall, lanky bat girl in faded, ripped jeans, sandals and a loose white t-shirt and sunglasses standing out on one of the lawns on her phone and smoking a joint. Her black hair hung in a sheet across the left side of her face, while the right side of her scalp was shaved completely. A pair of earbuds snaked up from her phone into each of her tall, curved ears. She took a long hit off the joint, holding the smoke in then slowly exhaling it through her nostrils in long ribbons though the air.


“Hey Kallista,” Frankie said, walking up to the much taller girl. At 5 '2', she stood about the bottom of Kallista’s chest. The bat didn’t seem to hear her; Radiohead blared through her headphones and she was wholly focused on her phone.


“Kallie? You there?” asked Frankie, trying to get her friend's attention. All she seemed to get in response was a cloud of pot smoke burning her eyes. Thoroughly peeved, she reached up and snatched the half-finished joint out from the bats mouth. That got her attention right quick.


Jerking back as if slapped, Kallista (or Kallie as she was known by her friends) raised her fists up, prepared for a brawl. She was surprised when she looked down to see a punky rat girl smiling demurely at her.


“Oh, hey Frankie,” Kallista mumbled, her ready-to-fight sneer slowly replaced with a toothy smile. The rat pointed to the still-burning cigarette. “Mind if I..?”


Kallie waved her off “go ahead, it’s a hybrid just so you know. Good stuff, but Aaron and Tatiana don’t want smoke in the house anymore so I’m stuck out here.” Frankie nodded as she took a hit. Aaron was Kallie’s older brother, and Tatiana (a snow leopard) was his girlfriend. They were good people, misfits like her just trying to make it along.


Frankie exhaled a cloud of bluish smoke, followed by a hearty round of coughs as her throat burned. She handed the joint to Kallie. “Viktor ripped me off.”


“Of course he did, that’s his business.” replied Kallie sullenly. She had her own dealings with the goat (largely electronics,) but she was better at making herself a threat to him than Frankie could ever be, having almost a foot in height and 40 pounds over the diminutive rat girl. A black belt in judo didn’t hurt, having been taking classes since she was 10. She took a hit and then passed the joint back. “What’d he get from you?”


“Some rings. I’m strapped for rent money and it’s my month to pay so I was hoping I could get it from them. They’re 24k, dude. Next to perfect except the engravings.” Frankie took another burning drag before continuing. She was beginning to feel the familiar heaviness spread through her. She neglected to tell Kallie that they were her parents' rings. Or rather she didn’t want to.


“Fucker gave me 200 a piece. Didn’t even bother to give me a deal, 200 for a single or 400 for a pair.” She clenched her teeth as the tears began to sting the edges of her eyes and blinked them back.


Kallista sighed. “I told you not to go there alone. Viktor’s a cold bastard, and he hates short girls.” She took the roach from Frankie and finished it off before flicking the butt into the gutter. “Were they stolen?”


“Yeah,” lied Frankie. She found lying became easier and easier the more she did it and hated herself for it. “Picked them up off some honeymooners busy seeing the sights. The engravings fucked me though.” She mentally kicked herself. The engravings were how she proved the rings belonged to her in the first place, and talking like that about her parents made her feel like shit.


“Fuck...only idiots engrave rings,” said Kallie, raising her arms behind her and stretching. “What happens if it doesn’t work out? You try and sell it back, they point out the engraving.” She put on a sickeningly sweet, Betty Boop-esqe tone, batting her eyes and interlacing her fingers under her chin. “To my love Marvin, till death do us part.” She imitated gagging. “Next think you know, you find them fucking their coworker when you come home early one day to surprise them. Bam! Now all that ring does is remind you that it was all a lie. And you can’t even get resale value for the fucker!”


Frankie smirked. “Speaking from experience?”


That bat burst out laughing. “More reasons why I’ll never get married. To a man at least.”


“But you’ll still fuck them?”


Kallista thought for a moment. “If I’m horny and it’s the only option outside of a dildo or my fingers, I’ll take the warm one any day.”


Frankie gagged. “I don’t get how you can do it,” she muttered. “It’s just so disgusting.”


“That’s because you’re gay,” said Kallista, not hurtfully. She walked up behind the smaller rat and enveloped her in her arms. “Not that I’m complaining. I’d take you over any guy, Cheddar.” 


Frankie shivered at the pet name Kallista called her during sex. They were never an actual couple, Frankie didn’t want that. Not after Charlotte.


Kallista nuzzled into the smaller girls red mohawk but just as quickly pulled back at the smell. “Whew! You reek girl! Viktor piss on you or something?” Frankie’s ears turned red..


“Not him. Me.” The disgust and self-loathing began to surface again. She closed her eyes.


“You pissed on yourself? How is that even possible? Did you do like in pornos where you like lay down and lift your ass in the air-”


“What the fuck? No! I...I was talking a piss in an alley and...I hit myself.” Frankie looked away ashamedly.


“You hit yourself.” Frankie nodded silently. “And that made you piss all over yourself?”


“I hit myself in the cunt!” Frankie snapped, exasperated. “I was pissing and then I hit myself in the cunt and I fell over and now I stink!” The words tumbled out and she wished she hadn’t said anything.


“And you hit yourself in the cunt because…” prompted Kallista. “Because I don’t want to talk about it, ok?” growled Frankie, tearing herself out of the bat's embrace. She was barely holding the thoughts back, and Kallie’s prodding wasn’t helping. Why does everyone always have to help?


Kallista looked hurt. “Look, something’s on your mind. Why don’t you come in? We can put your clothes in the wash, I can draw us a bath and we can talk. You can get whatevers eating you off your chest. What do you say, Cheddar?”


“Don’t fucking patronize me, Kallie!” yelled Frankie. She was angry, even though she knew her friend didn’t deserve it. “Stop calling me Cheddar! We haven’t fucked in weeks!”


Kallie blushed and looked around to see if anyone had heard her friends outburst. Even in the current day and age, 2 girls yelling about sex was sure to get some looks. “Keep it down, Frankie. People are gonna hear you.”


“I don’t give a fuck!” Shouted Frankie. How dare her friend care more about the neighbors than what she was saying? Tears were beginning to form again, angry this time. “Listen! I wanted to drop it, and you kept going! This is on you! Maybe next time I say drop it, you’ll fucking drop it instead of trying to cover it up with se-”


Kallista slapped her. Hard. Her paw crashed into Frankie’s face with calculated force. She knew she could easily break the diminutive girl's jaw if she wanted to. The blow sent Frankie crashing to the ground, dazed. Kallista crouched down next to the rat and grabbed her by the hair. Frankie looked up at her friend. Her electric blue eyes were cold, unforgiving.


“How fucking dare you,” growled Kallista. “Don’t you ever go shouting about my sex life like that ever again, Frankie. Ever. And don’t you ever try and blame me for YOUR shitty mistakes.” She punctuated this with a punch to the stomach, knocking the wind out of the diminutive rat. When her lips opened up, Kallista snorted and hocked a loogie into her mouth. Releasing Frankie’s head, she stood up and glared down at her friend.


“Don’t talk to me, Frankie. Not for a while at least. You’re a fucking mess, pull yourself together,” She said with disgust, walking inside and slamming the door. From where she lay Frankie could hear the sound of locks clicking.


“Sorry,” she said, to no-one since it was only her. She was crying by now. Her stomach ached horribly. She felt like she might throw up and fought it down. She felt the thoughts coming on again, and welcomed them. Right now, it was better than the overwhelming silence.


‘There’s another one, shitheel. Though she seems a little slower to forgive than Tess. Hell maybe she won’t forgive you. Maybe she’ll just look at you like you’re nothing more than something she stepped in for the rest of your miserable life. You’d love that, wouldn’t you? You want everyone to hate you, right? Well you’re doing a splendid job.’


Frankie got up on wobbly feet. She reached up to feel her face and found blood on her paw. Her lip was split on the side, already beginning to swell. The left side of her face still tingled, touching was like pushing a needle into her cheek. She begrudgingly complemented Kallista on her self-control. The wiry bat could easily have broken her neck with her strike, but deliberately held back. Enough to hurt for several days, while not causing any lasting damage.


“I deserve this,” she said aloud to herself. It seemed to be her mantra today. She started limping her way home again. It was 6:00. Tess would be home in an hour.


--


The 2 blocks to her house were uneventful aside from some passers-by who looked at her limping with a benign interest. Not enough to actually lend a hand to the seemingly struggling girl who reeked of piss and garbage, just watch.


By the time she staggered up the steps of the porch, unlocked the door and got inside, Frankie was ready to quit. She closed the door, flicked on the lights and fell face-first onto the (thankfully) carpeted floor. Rolling onto her back, she hissed as she wiggled her shorts off. Each little caress of the denim against her bruised flesh laced fresh pain through her pussy. She threw them in the general direction of her room, along with her jacket, boots and socks leaving her in her tank top and panties.


For the first time, Frankie lifted her panties and inspected the damage. There were no cuts, thankfully. Her whole crotch was an angry red, and horribly sore. She would be bruised for a while, but there were ways to mitigate it. She got up and slowly waddled bowlegged over to the fridge, pulling out an ice pack. Wrapping it in a clean washcloth, Frankie pulled her panties out and placed the ice pack over her swollen and sensitive cunt, groaning in agonized relief as the cold numbed the pain. Releasing the waistband made her panties conform to the pack, holding it in place.


She went about gathering up her discarded clothes, dropping them into her hamper and taking it to the washing machine. Fishing the wad of bills and her wallet from her shorts, she tossed them and the rest of her clothes in before pulling her tank top off and stepping out of her panties, holding the ice pack in place with her paw. After starting the washing machine, Frankie returned the ice pack to the freezer for the time being then stuffed the cash under her mattress and made her way to the bathroom for a shower.


The shower in question was a mid-sized cubicle design, about 8’ by 8’. While the water warmed up, she watched herself in the mirror. Short, skinny rat girl, tiny tits, nipple barbells and covered in tattoos, black and blue. Her face looked about as bad as it felt. The left side was beginning to swell and discolor, and her lip was worse than she thought. The cut was much deeper, nearly ripped her lip in half. ‘I need to get some ice on this after the shower,’ she thought to herself. Opening up the medicine cabinet, Frankie pulled out a tube of antibacterial cream. Squeezing a drop onto her finger she smeared it over the cut, wincing until the pain began to subside.


--


The water was finally at her preferred lukewarm temperature and she slipped in, moaning in pleasure as the water cleansed the filth and stench from her fur. She grabbed her washcloth and fur shampoo and began to thoroughly scrub herself clean; carefully avoiding the developing bruises around her crotch. Getting soap in her vagina was bad enough, trying to flush it out would be pure torture right now. 


She soaped up her breasts, her nipples hardening and sending waves of pleasure through her belly. She especially liked the way the rough washcloth felt across her nipples. Like a feline’s tongue playing with her. Frankie leaned back against the bathroom wall and spread her legs. Her free paw wrapped possessively around her own throat, imitating a dominant holding her in place. Her other paw continued to use the washcloth to torment her nipples, occasionally tugging on her piercings like her fictional partner was pulling them with her mouth.


Eyes slipping closed, she envisioned a woman of her fantasies. A tall, muscular domineering naked Lioness held her tight with her paw clasped tight around the small rats throat. Light enough for her to breath, but just barely. She imagined that they would still be in the shower, but it would be after a rough, passionate play session. Frankie’s hands would be bound behind her, perhaps she would be gagged; she popped a pair of her fantasy mistress’ used panties into her mind's vision of herself and moaned. Only allowed to taste her secondhand.


How would Mistress lead her? She thought that since she was so infatuated with Frankie’s nipple piercings, she would have her clit pierced as well. A good mounting point for a leash. A thin silver chain leash grasped in her owner's paw snaked down and clipped to her new ring, the fleshy hood of her clit pulled back leaving the sensitive nub exposed. Her clit throbbed in response to this image, painfully pleasurable. Thin rivulets of arousal began to run down her legs.


“I know you love to taste me, cunt. But you can’t shower in panties.” Her imagined owner chuckled at Frankie’s expense, pulling the silky, musky fabric from her maw. Unclipping the leash, the Lioness pushed Frankie into the shower, groping her ass possessively. Frankie figured their dynamic was that so that she would simply take whatever Mistress dished out at her since her limits had been carefully tested, so the Lioness would have no problem using the rat girl as her personal thermometer. 


She would turn on the water, smiling as Frankie gasped and screamed when the ice cold stream hit her naked body. Turning the warm faucet on slightly, Mistress would leave her to gather towels and clothes with explicit instructions to let her know when the water was warm enough to comfortably shower.


Frankie would be simply forced to endure the icy torrent, gasping and screaming desperately as her system overloaded, flailing about on the shower tiles and eventually curling up and shivering, unable to escape the chill until the water finally raised from frigid to tepid. “Mistress,” she would croak, her voice nearly gone. “The water is ready for you.”


Then would come the fun part. Mistress didn’t use washcloths; she would prefer to utilize her slave girl as her personal rag. Pouring a generous amount of fur shampoo onto Frankie’s front, she would command the rat to get to work cleaning her owner. Frankie would rub herself against the big Lioness, lathering them both up. She would get some shampoo on her face and motorboat Mistresses tits, much to her delight and pleasure. Asking her owner politely to extend her leg, she would grind against them, alternately washing Mistresses legs and putting on a show edging herself with no expectation of being granted the privilege of an orgasm. 


Moving on to her backside, Frankie would kneel down and nuzzle her Mistress' firm, muscular ass; sometimes dipping between the cheeks to rim the Lionesses anus to resounding purrs of satisfaction. Finally she would end up between Mistresses legs, gently and rhythmically cleaning her pussy with her tongue and alternatingly nipping and sucking on her clit. The Lioness’ paw entwined in Frankie’s hair, holding her in place with an iron grip while her other paw played with her own breasts and squeezed her nipples. Mistress would call her all manner of degrading things, “Whore,” “Muffdiver,” “Bootlicker,” the barbs only fueling the fire of desire in Frankie’s loins. Finally the tell-tale signs; claws digging into her scalp, muscular thighs clamping down on her head as the Lioness trembled through a powerful orgasm. Frankie would keep her mouth open to gulp down the nectar that her Mistress produced.


Shoving her away, Frankie would fall painfully onto her back and bound arms. Grinning devilishly, Mistress would raise a foot up and bring it down hard on her slave’s cunt; the blow leaving her breathless. A stomp to her abdomen. Fingering herself to another orgasm over Frankie. Finishing off with marking the rat with her piss, concentrating on her face and mouth. Leaving her to writhe, cough, moan and fruitlessly try to soothe her abused bits while Mistress rinsed herself off and washed her hair, her interest lost in her toy.


Eventually attended to again, lifted up by the throat and held under the showerhead until she nearly passes out before Mistress slams her against the wall. Playing with Frankie’s tits, running her rough tongue over the sensitive nipples and occasionally taking them in her teeth. Now mirroring her personal torment, Frankie drops the washcloth and runs her paw teasingly down her stomach. She sees her fictional Mistress copy her movements. Teasingly poking into her quivering belly button before continuing toward her aching mound.


“Aaahhh…” groaning as Mistress lightly ran her fingers over Frankie’s sore folds, squealing when she gave her clit a tap. The only thing keeping her up was the sudden tightening of the paw around her neck (her own, but the fantasy held firm in her mind.) Frankie slipped a finger into herself, hissing through clenched teeth. It hurt, but it also felt good. The pain fed into the pleasure. It always had. Tilly had been the first one to introduce her to it. Rope. Binder clips. Tilly’s panties or socks being used as a gag for when she used the belt. It felt so good. To the point she begged for it. Masochism, Tilly said they called it. The counterpart to her Sadism.


Thinking of Tilly brought up bad memories, and Frankie pinched her clit to bring herself back to her fantasy.


“Paying attention again, cunt? Good.” The lioness released Frankie’s burning clit and resumed fingering her, with two fingers now. “You know you really are a fucked up bitch. I’ve done nothing but use you and here you are, wet and trying to hump my fingers. I don’t know any normal girls that want another woman to use them as their personal cuntrag.” She added a finger and began to rub her clit with her thumb. “Do you want me to make you cum?”


“Yes, Mistress...Please…” rasped Frankie, breath whistling through her constricted windpipe. The Lioness smiled deviously. Stopping, she looked into Frankie’s eyes. “What would you do for me?”
“Mistress?”


The Lioness sighed. “Are you fucking deaf as well as thick, bitch? What would you do for me to make you cum?” Frankie tried to think while Mistress tortured her clit with her thumbnail. “Mistress, I don’t know anything else I can give you of myself.” Smiling again, Mistress resumed her fingering but slower this time. “Maybe it’s not something I want from you.” Her fingers curled, searching for the area behind Frankie’s clitoris making her gasp. “Maybe there’s something of your sisters’ I want.”


“Tess? What do you want with her-aaaahhhh.” Frankie’s eyes nearly rolled into her head as Mistress wiggled her fingers. “Come on, it’s not rocket science you dumb bitch. Fine, I’ll spell it out. I want to fuck your sister, and I want you to watch. If you agree, I’ll make you cum and tie you up when Tess and I go down so you can watch. Disagree and I leave. So?”


“Ah-aaahhhnnn...I...I agree, Mistress…” Frankie whimpered. “Agree to what, cunt? Let me hear it from your own mouth.” her mistress growled.


“P-please...fuck my little sister...and make me watch, Mistress.” She gasped. Grinning, the Lioness released her grip on Frankie’s throat, causing the rat to topple onto her knees. “Good girl,” she purred. “You deserve to cum.”


Frankie’s fingers worked feverishly, pistoning in and out of her swollen folds while her other paw pinched and stretched a nipple. She could feel the release building up, slowly reaching a head. Head down on the tile and ass up in the air, Frankie assumed she must look ridiculous but she honestly didn’t care. Grunting rhythmically, she stuffed as many fingers as she could fit into herself as she reached the chresting point, howling as she toppled over it into crashing waves of masochistic bliss.


Curling into herself, Frankie had barely any time to enjoy the afterglow before the unmistakable sound of the front door opening. “I’m home! Fran? You here?”


“Oh fuck,” whispered Frankie. “Tess.”