Julian sighs happily and grabs his towel, setting to work drying himself off as quickly as he possibly can. His heart is pounding with excitement. As soon as his dark fur is mostly dry he casts it aside on the floor and grabs his blow dryer. The hot air on his skin feels good and when it passes over his groin, he shivers.

His pink shaft is already half hard and poking from the fuzzy sheath. 
He sets the blow dryer back on the counter and grabs his perfumed dusting for it, getting a little bit in his paws and patting it into his chest fur, onto his thighs. He stands on a dry towel while he does it, then he brushes his fur out quickly with short, desperately rushed stroked. The excess powder is cast down onto the towel. Normally, he would pick it up and dump the excess dust into the trash bin, but he's too busy brushing his hair out, getting it all nice and neat.

From the medicine cabinet, he draws out a bottle of cologne - or what he tells himself is cologne. In reality, he full well knows  is actually just a more masculine perfume. He spritzes himself lightly then stares at his face in the mirror, taking a shaky breath. He can't calm down no matter what he tries, so he just turns and marches through the door into the bedroom.

"You took so long, little brother," Jane mutters, stroking herself slowly. She's laid on the bed on her back, feet crossed, one paw working at her shaft slowly and the other kneading and massaging her breast. She glares. "Put your things on, whore. I'm tired of waiting."
"Y-Yes mistress," he murmurs, cheeks growing hot beneath his dark fur. He steps to the bedside table and takes up the ball gag, raises it to his mouth. Her scent is strong in the air already, but the second the ball gag is close to his face it's all he can smell. 

"I took the liberty, of course, of making sure it tasted nice," she drawls, smirking evilly. He whimpers a little and pushes the ball into his mouth, tasting her pre on it immediately. Hands shaking, he belts it behind his head and then picks up the thick leather collar and tightens it on his neck. "Tighter. Make it hard to breathe."

He lets out a muffled whine, but does as he is told. She rises, grabbing the leash from the bed next to her. With a practiced motion she clips it to the front of the collar and then gives it a sharp tug, making him stumble close to her, so close he feels her cock poke him in the stomach.
"Who do you belong to?" she asks, smirking, knowing he can't answer. There's a muffled sort of whine again and then he dips his head, nuzzles at her chest eagerly. "That's right, little brother. You belong to me. Now... about your paws and your eyes."

She holds onto the leash and takes up the blindfold, raises it to cover his eyes. He shakes a little as it is tightened, little poofball tail twitching about. The heat from her body tells him that she moves behind and then she grabs his paws hard and folds his arms behind his back exactly as they would be if he crossed them in front of himself. Thick leather straps are tightened, elbow to wrist on both sides.

"Much better, little slut. Much, much better," she purrs into his ear. There come the sounds of light footfalls and he stumbles and nearly falls hard as she jerks the leash, turning him around. "Come."

Whining again, he follows as best he can. The leash is not very long, luckily, and he manages to avoid walking into the door frame as he goes by relying on the tugging of it for guidance. They walk, her keeping a pace much brisker than necessary.

"Stop!" she barks, the tug on his leash ceasing. He stands still save for the trembling of his slight form. He feels a finger then, one single finger with just a light touch run up the underside of his now fully erect, throbbing cock. It twitches and jumps, a spurt of pre hitting the floor. His breath comes hot and fast from his nose, restrained by the ball gag and the collar. The fur of his chin and upper neck are dampened by moisture weeping around the ball in his mouth, and by his sister's pre. "Rock hard... you are just a treat. Bound, gagged, blindfolded, leashed, humiliated... perfect. The perfect little slut for mistress, aren't you."

He nods quickly, trying to turn his face toward her voice.
A rough slap nearly knocks him to the ground.
"Blind or not, I did not give you permission to look at me! Eyes to the floor!"

Another muffled whine. He looks to the floor.

There are little tugs on the leash as she drags him some more, just a little. He hears the sounds of her settling on something and realizes she must be laying back on the couch. He's dragged forward until his hips are against her ass and her legs fall on his shoulders. He feels her cock slide along his as he is drawn tight.

"You earned your reward, you fucking whore. You get to fuck your sister. Now, I'm delighted to have you inside me but if you don't fuck me so hard I can't walk after, I will hurt you - badly," she murmurs.

He shakes hard, hips moving on instinct and rubbing his cock against hers until he feels a slackening on his leash and then her movement and her warm paw gripping his cock. She's curled up, not quite sitting upright, working her paw until the pre covers his shaft. He is pulled then, pulled in and guided towards her waiting tailhole.

"Hard, brother. Push in hard."

He's a sucker for orders.

She lets out a beautiful cry of pleasure as he forces his way in, hips pressing to hers immediately. A loud, desperate exhalation comes from him. She grinds her hips, feeling him inside. Her inner walls grip his shaft tightly, years of practice giving her the muscle control to do amazing things inside. The warmth makes his cock twitch and jump hard, pre weeping out en masse into her depths.

"Now fuck me, whore. Fuck me like it's the end of the world!"

He huffs and inhales sharply as he sets a pace, withdrawing slowly at first and then slamming in, spreading his legs a little to find his balance. It's humiliating, not being able to see or speak or even move his arms, but he deals with the humiliation and forces his way in harder and faster as he goes, finding the right balance point.

Muscles burn a little bit as time goes on, as he works in this unfamiliar position. She moans and cries out, purposefully squeezing him inside and at her entrance to the point it is a little painful. He can feel her working her paw on her shaft, stroking fast and hard. Her scent and his mix in the air, powerful and all he can smell - and he can't avoid smelling anything, not with the way he's gagged.

The pleasure rises fast, be it from the bindings or the restrictions to sight, speech or breathing or from her tightness or perhaps from the sheer idea that he is fucking his sister. He knows he can't last long.
"This is a reward, little w-whore," she gasps, as if able to read his mind. "C-Cum... whenever you can!"

The wildness comes, the almost feral slamming into her. He's throbbing and jumping constantly now. His breath, faster, harder, sharper. His heart, pounding so hard it almost hurts, the sound of it a drum beat on his long, soft ears.

He slams in to cum and jerks awake in bed. 

"Huhwha..." he mumbles, bleary eyed and confused as he rises. Someone is pounding on the door, on his front door. His dull, half awake mind registers the back that no one ever knocks at his door. Yawning, he stumbles a little and makes his way to his bedroom door, through the living room lit by lines of yellow light from the streetlight outside cut by the partially open blinds.

One paw falls on the door knob and the other rises to rub at an eye. He opens the door and finds himself staring at a stomach with rigidly defined muscles beneath a tight t-shirt. He slowly looks up over bulging pecks then a white furred and black striped neck to the face of a tiger with scarring on the right side of his face.

"... you're a giant tiger," he says stupidly, still trying to wake up.
"And you are wearing panties," the tiger rumbles, crossing his arms. His upper arms are as thick as both of Julian's upper arms put together and then some. In place of what one would commonly find on the shoulders of a person, being nothing, there are dull black metal pauldrons. The metal, thin plates of it layer down his arms, leading to black gauntlets. The knuckles are spiked and the finger tips end in thick metal claws.

The bunny looks down at the striped red and black panties he's wearing, his throbbing erection poking out of the top, then he turns his red eyes back up. 

"Don't worry about that," is his sleepy reply.

"Sir, the Red Queen wishes to speak to you," the tiger says, his voice still barely above a low growl. 

"The Red Queen... who the fuck is that...? Dude, listen, I dunno who you are but I just woke up and like-"

"Your sister, Lady Red. Jane Martin, sir."

A cold chill runs through his body and immediate adrenaline fueled alertness hits him.

"Oh my god did something happen to her!? Are you the police? Is she okay?" he demands.

The tiger chuckles and pats him on the shoulder with a huge paw.

"Relax, sir. Your sister is fine. She wishes to speak to you however."

Julian wiggles out from under his paw and takes a step back, staring.

"Where? Is she here?" he asks, confused.

"She's at her mansion, sir."

"... her fucking mansion!?"

He nods. Julian stares at him, waiting for him to let the bunny in on the joke, but there isn't one. 

"Yes sir," he says after a moment. "Her mansion."

"Fine, let me just... just get some pants on..."

He jogs to the bedroom as quickly as he can, tugging a pair of shorts from the closet. He's not really paying attention to what he grabs as he works the tight things up his legs and wiggles his butt into them, getting his little fluffy tail to poke through the small tail slit. He works on a tank top next, then jogs back to the living room and shrugs into a leather jacket. The tiger watches him work a pair of socks up and then lace up his most well worn combat boots.

"You dress like her when she's not being her usual showy self," the tiger says. He glances up and frowns.

"What?"

"Your sister. You look a lot like her, just... smaller."

"God, seriously...? Fuck it, let's just go," he mutters, pushing past the big man. The tiger follows, then over takes him and leads him down the hallway to the elevator. They step in, and the ground floor button is pressed. Marty crosses his arms, shivering a little bit. 

"Cold, sir?"

"No just..." he shifts, dropping his paws to his side and turning away, his erection still straining against the shorts a little bit. He examines himself in the reflection on the cold metal wall and messing with his hair. He wants to get it straightened out. Then it dawns on him the huge man is wearing what very much looks like broadsword on his back. "Okay, what in the fuck. Why are you wearing plate armor and a broadsword?"
The tiger chuckles.

"This place is Skulls territory sir. The sword does more than just cut, it shoots as well. However, I'm not permitted to give you information on its other attributes at this time," he explains. Julian turns back to face forward, his pants a little less tight now.

"Shoots, but it's a sword. Sword gun? Gunblade? That's some next level video game stuff there, man. And... why are you calling me sir? And... not permitted?" he asks his last, raising the dusty gray marking above his right eye.

"Your sister is my superior. I belong to her. Her orders are not to be violated," he replies simply. "I call you sir because you are her brother. By connection, until parameters are established, you are also my superior, though to a lesser extent."

"Huh. Weird," he says, glancing over. The tiger is deliciously attractive, as far as Julian is concerned - and the armor and sword make him oddly more so.

The doors open with a ding and they step out into the lobby. A man glances up as he enters the doors and stops, staring at the huge tiger. The equine's eyes dart down to Julian.

"Jules, don't look now, but there's a giant tiger with a sword next to you," he says, blinking in confusion. "What the fuck is going on?"
Julian shrugs.

"Dunno Kess, he works for big sis I guess."

"Riiiiight... well, listen. Uh... I got some bad news," the horse says, his face impassive as always.

Julian and the tiger stop before the doors.

"Sir, we really do need to get moving. Skulls will know I am here by now and not be pleased," the feline essentially grumbles.

The equine stares up at him, then down at Julian.

"Uh... huh. Weird. You know he's like... eight feet tall right? Whatever, I'm too tired to care. Listen, uh..." he trails off, then yawns loudly.
 "Sorry, uh... Needi wanted me to tell you not to come in to work again, and to give you your last paycheck."

"...eight foot six, actually."

Kess proffers an envelope.

"What!?" Julian demands, eyes narrowing with anger. He snatches the envelope and tears it open, looking at the paper inside. Sure enough, it's a paycheck for an incomplete week. "Oh come on! Why the hell did she fire me!?"

"She said something about you and her having sex and like, you said your sister's name or something," he mutters, shrugging. "Look, not really my business. Tonight's shift was hell on a stick man, I'm going to go to bed. Good luck with the job hunt or whatever."

He walks off, and Julian stomps his foot. Swearing and cursing his ex-boss, he storms to the doors and pushes through with the tiger right behind. He stops on the sidewalk, letting a harsh wind blow over him and cool him off. His slight form shakes with rage.

"Sir, this way please. It's dangerous for you to remain outside very long with me present."

"Yeah, whatever, let's fucking go."

They walk quickly, turning right and marching down a line of cars parked on the street. The feline overtakes him quickly, taking the lead with long strides of his enormous legs. They stop at a shockingly expensive looking car. Julian waits for the doors to be unlocked, looking around.
He sees a glint and crouches split second before the a crack like thunder shatters the relative quiet of the early, early morning. 

He peeks his head up just in time to see the tiger drag the huge sword off his back and raise it, pointing the tip at a figure standing in a nearby alleyway. Now that the blade is exposed, he can see that a rather thick barrel runs down the center of it. For a mere split second nothing happens then an ear shattering boom makes him squeak. He's too transfixed, staring, to crouch. His eyes follow the sword blade as it bucks up into the air, a gout of fire a few feet long lingering a moment in the air - the intense, incredible muzzle flash.

The tiger stalks across the road and bends down, lifts the shadowed figure off the ground, and viciously throws him into the darkness. 

"Get in the car!" he shouts as he stalks back.

"You just... fucking killed someone!" Julian shouts, in shock.

"Get in the fucking car!" the tiger literally roars.

Quick as he can, Julian jerks the door open and climbs inside, buckling his seatbelt up fast. The tiger shoves the sword over the driver's seat and behind it. Somehow, he crams himself in and starts the engine with the key from his pocket. Without more than a second's pause, he screeches off onto the road, driving fast and hard.
The rabbit clutches the arm rest and the inner door handle in terror as the round several corners, skidding and drifting somewhat. The next turn coming is sharp and seems impossible to make at this speed, and he's sure he's going to die for a moment and then...

He's nearly thrown sideways by the force of the turn, the back end whipping out.
 
He shuts his eyes tight until they slow down, heart pounding with adrenaline.

When he opens then, he looks to the tiger and frowns. Blood is soaking the gray t-shirt he's wearing.

"Hey, giant guy, are you... okay?" he asks. There's a hole in the shirt right under his right collarbone. "You got shot."
"Bullet broke a rib, I think... no... cracked it. Blood loss... minor enough that I don't need to worry for now," he mutters, reaching down and digging a pair of clawed fingers into the hole. He pulls a bullet out and sets it in one of the cup holders. "Fragmented... problematic. Bastard. Plain or not, I really liked this shirt."

The rabbit just stares, wide eyed
.
"The fuck is your name?"

"I am Nezta Noaluka, sir."

"This is like, a hellaciously expensive sports car. This... is my sister's?"

The tiger turns and speeds up again, on a straight road with little traffic. He blows through a red light without concern.
"This is one of twelve vehicles the Red Queen keeps on hand for herself and her closest people. I am one of two others than her allowed to drive this one, sir," he responds with pride.

Julian's mouth hangs open.

"Fucking twelve?"

"Yes sir. Though, this is the cheapest, and least modified of them. One has machine guns on it, sir."

The rabbit can't even tell if the giant man is joking. He turns his gaze out the front window, feeling like something pivotal just happened in his life and he isn't even sure what it is. Silence falls.

Nezta is busy thinking.

The boy saw the gun and ducked on raw instinct. He saw someone die violently and isn't even reacting with more than mold shock. Hell, he's even unphazed by the bullet wound and picking the bullet from his flesh. 
The more the tiger mulls this information over, the more he feels that the Red Queen is right.

Her brother must be the Red King.

To react that fast without even being awoken yet...

It's an impressive thing.

"Just relax sir," he says quietly. "We'll be there soon. For now, however, we're safe."

"Got any cigs in this car?"

One clawed finger points at the glove box. From inside, he pulls a black plastic box and pops the lid. Inside, a torch lighter and several slim black sticks. 

"Hah, cloves..." he says, drawing one out and setting it between his lips. The lighter sparks and fire blows out, charring the end. He rolls the window down a little bit and takes a long drag. The tiger looks sidelong at him, the way his lips wrap around it, the way they part on the exhale.

"So very much like your sister, I feel I must say again. You somehow make yourself look beautiful while smoking," he says quietly. Then he quickly turns his gaze to the road again. "I'm very sorry sir, that was way out of line."

"Fucking right it was," Julian mutters, glaring out the window as the city slides by. "... but thank you."

"...You're welcome, sir."