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Marybell watched what was sure to be her last sunrise. The deep blue of the night sky morphed into a ceiling of orange hues as the sun broke over the horizon. Light illuminated the barren Badlands, casting shadows from the wide plateaus across the desert. Were it not for the rope around her neck, the mare would find it beautiful.

Heck, she did. She could use a little sentimentality.

Born to a wealthy family up north, Marybell never expected her life to turn out like it did. She reckoned no one ever did, but the benefit of hindsight was a cruel one for most. For her, it just boiled her blood. An heiress like her was destined for a life of luxury. Of galas and balls where she danced with handsome men, talked gossip, and wore the latest fashions. Now her legs burned balancing on the stack of rocks left for her, her voice quiet so as not to break the concentration, and her only fashion was the rope harness keeping her arms behind her back and her tits out.

She wouldn't be here if her fiance hadn't swindled her. If only she'd seen the conman then and there, she could still be drinking champagne instead of wishing for water. But no, she'd been ruined by her foolishness and could do nothing against him. So she struck back at the world instead as a bandit.

To her surprise, she was good at it. Within a year she joined a gang robbing trains and caravans, within two she splintered off with a loyal faction right before it imploded. Didn't matter that she set the fire by spurring on the boss and his most loyal hand, but it was their fault for not seeing her as anything other than a pretty thing. She'd grown strong under them, rivaling a few equines in muscle but never once did she let them know she was clever.

Her mistake, if she were being honest, was trying to lead her faction directly. Her followers wanted her intimately and she believed giving them a taste every so often made them easier to control. All it did was make them expect it like a petulant child wanting sweets whenever they passed the store. Marybell never expected they'd go as far as to leave her hanging from a a tree out of nowhere. The rock pile was their last mercy for all she'd done for them.

She should have put her hoof down earlier, and set something up so a botched job didn't result in this. But the language of the dying was full of woulda, shoulda, coulda, so she rather not speak of it. Trouble was that it left her with nothing but thoughts of her imminent death. Her copper red cheekfur was already matted wet with tears. Nothing short of a miracle would help her.

A miracle loomed under the horizon casting a large shadow. Marybell thought it was another cactus until it grew larger. No. She squinted. It was a figure. Her eyes went wide. She screamed, “Help!" she cried, legs burning to keep still so as not to topple her pile's balance. “Help!"

A lone traveler marched her way at a steady pace. A black bunny clad in a dark duster, with a black hat casting a shadow over their eyes. They were a small thing, almost a foot shorter from Marybell without the ears if she guessed.

“Please, help me," Marybell begged, pushing her voice to be breathy and innocent to tug on their heartstrings. She wanted to assume the bunny was a man, but their features were too well hidden to be sure. She'd seen enough women outlaws to not make the assumption.

“What happened to you?" The stranger asked, their voice leaning closer to a woman's despite being both gravelly and deep.

“Horrible, horrible, men left me here." Not a complete lie, which made it all the easier to tell. “They stripped me of…well…everything and left me here to die. I don't know how much longer I can hold out."

The bunny looked up, exposing their green eyes. They had a white patch with one of them, breaking the void of black across their fur. They didn't move, didn't speak, just stared.

“A-Aren't you going to help?" Marybell asked, trying desperately not to sound frustrated.

The bunny rested a hand on their hip, pulling their duster back just enough to let light glint off their holstered revolver. “These men who left you here, they got a pocket watch?"

Marybell, dumbfounded, blinked, “What?"

The rabbit held up their left hand, not their gun hand, and made a small circle with their index finger and their thumb, “Pocket watch. About this small and made of brass. The cover has an X carved into it. Can't miss it."

“I don't…How would I know what they were carrying?"

The rabbit's next words were needles to her heart, “Cause you were there when they took it. Barking orders."

Marybell's mind snapped back to the memory. Their last job was hitting a small caravan. Nothing special. Barely any guards. They struck at night, rounded up most folks and what guards surrendered or weren't on watch. Robbed everyone of their valuables, and a few supplies. She didn't see the rabbit there, but she didn't do the major looting either.

The rabbit pulled out their pistol with intent. “Way's I see it, you got two options. You answer my questions, or I leave you here. If I like enough of the answers, I might just give you a Badlands Bedtime."

While Marybell had no loyalty to the men who betrayed her, the options didn't look good no matter her choice. “Please, I just want to live."

The rabbit cocked back the hammer slowly, “Then I better like your answers. Did your gang take that watch?"

“Yes," she said after a pause, “J-Joey, a coyote, has it."

“How many men?"

“Thirteen."

The rabbit tilted their head, “I only counted nine including you."

“T-There's a reserve!" Marybell's panic made it impossible to control her pitch. “I always keep a reserve at the hideout to make sure no one takes it. It's in a canyon, east of here, in one of those old abandoned cliffside villages."

Her would-be savior took their sweet time looking eastward. “Cliffside villages?" They finally said.

“Yup," Marybell said in lieu of a nod. “Built right into the rock, like some hollowed-out tree. Don't know what happened to those who used to live there." She didn't much care either. In the Badlands, you took what you could. Ruthlessness was mercy upon yourself, and you could only afford to protect yourself.

“How far?"

“Two days walk," she bit her lip. Joey and the gang were halfway there by now, maybe less given their loot. The rabbit would come up before they reached it. Hopefully, she'd be long gone by then.

The rabbit watched the canyon in the distance. The wind brushed past them, tossing a single tumbleweed down the path. They walked on, holstering their pistol with the spin of a gunslinger.

“H-Hey!" Marybell shouted, trying not to turn else she risked toppling her stones, “I told you what you wanted. Help me down."

“You'll help yourself soon enough."

“You can't just leave me here!" While plenty preferred a quick death in the Badlands, Marybell very much preferred being alive and she had no shame in keeping it that way.

The rabbit turned around. “Why not," they said, making their way over with pistol drawn, “What makes you think I owe you anything."

“I–"

The rabbit kicked one of the rocks away.

“Stop!" Marybell shouted, nearly kicking the rabbit if not for the barrel pointed on her.

They kicked out another. “If it weren't for you I wouldn't be this far off my path. Besides, it's your fault for being in this mess. Don't know your gang but if your round-up was any indication you're an annoying bitch."

“Fu–" The rope bit deeper into her neck as another stone went tumbling, “I'm sorry, ok? I did what I had to to survive. You gotta understand."

“I don't care."

“You could sell–" The next stone broke her tower. Her words were caught by the noose coiling her neck tight. She could breathe, but that wasn't a blessing. Each gagged gasp sucked in just enough air to keep her conscious. The motions of her struggle turned her to the sun, its blazing heat doting the cloudless sky.

Something popped. More like a bang, followed by a snap. Marybell hit the ground with a thud, sucking in delicious dusty air so hard her coughs sent her bound arms spasming. A diminutive hand with alarming strength grabbed her by the mane and shoved her against the tree trunk.

“Goddamn it, let me…" she coughed, “Let me breathe…" Marybell dropped into demands and orders on reflex despite her position. The rabbit took it well, only grabbing her maw with their free hand instead of using their gun.

They held her for the moment, searching through their satchel for something. Anytime she tried to speak, the rabbit's finger strength made a counterargument. Finally, they pulled out two bits of rolled-up parchment, unfurling each with a whip.

The first was her, or at least her name and role, the artist's depiction made her look more menacing than she cared for. The second was Joey, whose picture was not only more accurate but carried a higher bounty dead than hers said alive.

“This him?" the rabbit asked. She nodded, keeping questions on why Joey's was worth more to herself. Some outlaws liked having big bounties. Most preferred not to be known.

Despite strength that was unbecoming of a small rabbit, Marybell was able to nod in their grip. The rabbit rolled them back up, “Compared to him, your bounty ain't worth much and it's only alive. Nearest town is four days away and there ain't many streams of freshwater on the way. I don't have enough water for two people, so what makes you think it's worth dragging you to town to sell you off?"

Now that she had time to catch her breath and wasn't in immediate danger of strangulation, Marybell could analyze the situation. “Because you think so."

“Come again?" The rabbit raised their brow.

She fought the urge to smile, “You could have let me hang, but you cut me loose. Hell, you shot the rope. Bit of a waste of resources if you're going after my old gang. So it's clear you think I'm valuable alive."

The rabbit grinned. She smirked with satisfaction. “I expected you to be more grateful," they said.

“I try to be pragmatic. You want me alive."

The rabbit sighed. “What I want, and what I can make happen are two different things. I could just let you go, let you wander the Badlands with nothing but your ties. You'd be dead by nightfall. If I'm to take you along, far enough to sell you, you need to prove yourself as a fruitful slave."

Outside she was smiling. Inside her teeth were clenched. “Of course, sir. Can I get a name for my new master?"

“Mistress,"

“Pardon?"

The rabbit stood up, disrobing their duster. Circumstances earlier kept Marybell preoccupied from looking at their crotch to notice the remarkable bulge there. But the more the rabbit took off, the more curves they, she, showed, in spite of that big cock. Too big for a rabbit. Then her eyes widened when it slipped out, revealing the mottled phallus of a horse hanging between the bunny's legs.

“Mistress Jude," She pumped her rod, slowly easing it to an erection. Days-old sweat from trudging the badlands stabbed Marybell's nostrils, “And first we're going to see if a mouth like yours is as good at taking as it is giving out orders."

The shock of seeing a laquine in the flesh left her mouth wide open and defenseless to the thick rod. Jude pressed the flat-head of her cock against those chapped lips and pushed through, sinking inch after inch. A tight tug on Marybell's mane told her to keep still and be welcoming. No teeth, or no mercy.

Salty sweat mixed with her saliva. Unlike most dicks, horsecocks threatened her gag reflex, not that Jude stopped when she heard it. If anything it edged the rabbit on. Her free hand cupped her tiny breasts or teased her nipple to the sound of her prisoner's straining cry.

Her lungs were burning when Jude pulled out, mouth hacking wads of saliva with every cough. Her new mistress rested her wet cock over Marybell's face, making an effort to keep it there whenever the horse tried shaking it off. Jude dived in just as the mare regained her breathing, cutting her off to another gagging hell.

No stranger to rough sex, Marybell felt there was something different about the way Jude used her. Her old partners, from her fiance to the gang members she controlled by letting them get a taste, used her as a means. A tool to get what they wanted, regardless of her satisfaction. But Jude, this laquine whose thrusts buried deep enough for her balls to hit Marybell's chin, kept watching her. Those beady green eyes looking for reactions, for the impact the mare felt. She wanted Marybell to feel something. And it lit a fire in her chest.

“Needs some work," Jude rested her drenched cock against the mare's face. The weight, the stench, and the heat overwhelmed her senses. She still tasted it on her tongue, and breathed its scent with every ragged breath and every hacked-up glob of saliva she spat from her lips.

“F…" she gasped for breath, “Fuck you…"

“What'd you say?" Jude didn't sound angry, nor curious as if she'd misheard. There was a playful tone to her words despite the lack of a smile. Holding her cock like a club she batted Marybell's cheek, “Speak up."

“Fuck you."

“That's what I thought," Jude said, hitting the other cheek with her member, “I thought you were supposed to be smart. You may look strong but it takes more than muscle to run a gang. Yet here you are, at my mercy, and you're insulting me. It's no wonder your gang left you with a noose."

“Fuck you." Marybell didn't realize she was smiling. She had no reason to smile, not when everything Jude said was true. It'd be better to play pretend and worship the rabbit's cock until she got cocky and loosened her binds. But she didn't want that. No, she wanted that rabbit's face to twist into some shape, to make them react. Cause if they did, they'd go harder on her. Focus on her. Use her.

“No, bitch. I'm fucking you." Both hands clasped her skull tight, fingers digging in as Jude hilted her entire length down Marybell's throat. She held it there, long enough for Marybell's eyes to roll back and the urge to puke nearly reached its peak. Then she pulled out, slapping her cock over the mare's face so hard she went down to the dirt. If her arms were free, Marybell would have tried to touch the throbbing across her face.

Jude didn't give her much time anyway. Taking the spare rope she bundled it into a tight knot and latched it behind Marybell's teeth like a bit. She put up a fight, swore and writhed, but deep down she knew it wouldn't do much. The bunny, for some reason, was stronger than her. She might have been stronger than some of her old underlings. Something about being overpowered by someone so small hit her in an unusual way, one that slipped out as a subtle shudder through her new gag. She caught Jude smiling out of the corner of her eye.

With ungodly strength, Jude hoisted Marybell up, back against the tree while her hooves were thrust into the hair. She gnawed into the robes, suppressing the pain of bark against the skin as the laquine's wet cock lined up with her cunt.

Jude whistled. “You're all matted down here," she sniffed, “Don't smell like sweat."

Marybell's gagged reply turned to a pitched moan as Jude's cock slipped in, the flat head spreading her lips like the swing doors of a local saloon. Slowly she sank inside, letting the mare feel every tantalizing moment of her cunt filled up with horsecock. Fuck she'd never been so full since…no, not even her ex-fiance matched. Somehow this little rabbit sported a cock bigger than the average stallion, and she knew how to use it.

Knew how to use her.

The thrusts were controlled. Slow. Teasing to fill her out. She'd pull a few inches back, then slam in, then again, and again. Marybell clenched her fists, and tightened her chest, knowing somehow that the rabbit was holding back. How could someone so small be this powerful? How could this rabbit dominate her like this? Worst of all, how could she love it so?

A smirk crossed the black rabbit's face. She reduced her pace. Marybell squealed. “What's that?" Jude's left ear twitched, “You got something to say?"

Marybell held her tongue, not wanting to repeat her humiliating moment of weakness. It'd been so long since anyone brought her close, but this rabbit didn't deserve it. She told herself then and there she'd rather die in the badlands than give this bounty hunter the knowledge she wanted.

Jude pulled back more. Marybell screamed, shaking her head as her resolve shattered. She needed it, god, she needed it. Years of banditry with men who reeked and knew nothing of a woman's needs came crashing down in this one moment. The gag muffled her words but the rabbit smiled, knowing exactly what the mare was saying.

So she sped up. Gradually sinking into her until their hips slapped together. Marybell whinnied and neighed, brought down to her barest sense as the rabbit took her for everything. If she had the strength too she'd lock her legs around the rabbit's head to keep her there. She had no authority to even try, Jude held all of that.

Her first orgasm hit her like a rocket. She forgot the pain, the dirt, and the humiliation, all in favor of the body-shivering ecstasy the rabbit pushed her over. Jude gave her two more when she finished, filling the burning cunt with dollops of seed that seeped out when she withdrew.

Jude let her collapse into the dirt. Marybell watched lazily to the sky where the sun hung overhead, not breaking out of her stupor until a fully dressed rabbit grabbed what remained of her noose like a leash. Her legs burned and shivered, but Marybell made it to her hooves.

“There's a secret spring not too far in the direction we're headed. Should last us until town if all things go well. Until then, well…" the rabbit looked over her quarry with interest, “If you're a good girl and help me get your old henchman, I'll consider not selling you off when we get to town."

She pulled the rope taut, “Now come on. We're burning daylight."

Marybell hung her head. Ashamed, humiliated, and relieved at the idea that her mistress would show lenience if she played nice.

No, it was the fact that she thought of Jude as her mistress. Marybell huffed and grunted as she marched on. Jude slapped her ass, “Keep moving." The rabbit picked up the rear, hiding her smile from her latest conquest,

Jude’s secret spring was more of a watering hole. It sat in a bowl formed from hundreds, if not millions, of years of rainwater molding the earth. Seeing as how it hadn’t rained in days, well before Marybell’s gang betrayed her, and that the water looked clean in the round rock dish they came upon, she assumed it had to be sourced from a natural reserve underground.

Finds like these were worth more than gold in the Badlands. Because of how mining towns set up near veins of precious metals, one could get rich by leasing out clean water to towns if they had the security to transport it. Marybell’s gang had taken out a few shipments themselves, to the point that water theft was on her bounty. Her underlings argued it’d be better to take hold of one of the watering holes themselves. She, being the brains of the operation, reminded them that a gang like theirs did not want the heat of several towns on them for holding their water hostage. Crime was one thing, risking a war between settlements was something else entirely.

She chewed down on her rope bit, dry tongue lathering it for a sip of water. Jude hammered a piton to a nearby rock, using it to tie her prisoner in place while she refilled her canteen. Marybell waited patiently for the rabbit to give her a sip. The black rabbit took a long gulp from her canteen when it filled, then filled it again. Marybell slammed her hoof impatiently. Jude stared at her. It wasn’t the confused stare of someone unsure, nor the annoyed stare of someone ready to chastise another. It was a cold stare of ire. The kind of stare that silently told its target to behave if they knew what was good for them.

Those cold green eyes made Marybell’s legs weak in all the right ways. She scowled, huffed through her nose, and turned away. A prim and proper gesture ruined by the fact that the ropes around her body locked her arms behind her and pushed her tits out.

Jude filled two more canteens before leading Marybell back over. When the rabbit pulled the gag out she let her mouth hand open for water to be poured. “Drink up,” Jude said, pointing to the little pond.

Marybell blinked. Then she glared at the rabbit. “How? You bound my arms. The least you could do is share your canteen.”

“They’re my canteens,” Jude stated.

“Then how am I supposed to drink?”

Jude, rather than answer what she assumed was obvious, kicked out Marybell’s legs and grabbed her mane. The sudden shift and tug made the mare whinny, but Jude clamped her maw shut. “You ever heard how you can lead a horse to water but you can’t make them drink? Well, let’s see if it’s true.”

Cold water rushed through Marybell’s nostrils as Jude shoved her face into the water. The smaller rabbit’s iron grip held true against the mare’s flailing. Screams became streams of bubbles rising to the surface. Jude pulled her out as quickly as she was pushed in. “You get a drink yet?”

“Fuck you!” Marybell stuttered.

“Missing the honorific.” Jude shoved her back into the water. She held her there just long enough to make her panic but not to hurt her lungs.

“Fuck you, Mistress!” Marybell stammered out after gasping greedily for air.

“Good. And don’t you forget it.” Jude’s tone smiled when her face didn’t allow for it. “Now, does my horse understand how to drink now?”

Her thirst outweighed her pride. She lapped water from the lake like a feral animal. Jude held her head through it all, her iron grip softened to a causal pat and soft touch, none of which tricked Marybell into trying to break free again.

Her thirst wasn’t quenched easily. Marybell spent hours balancing to keep that noose from strangling her. Anyone would be parched if they stayed in the sun for that long. But Marybell didn’t become a gang leader without a little cunning. She kept drinking long after she quenched her thirst once she realized that Jude wasn’t going to stop her. Be it a mercy or something else, Marybell didn’t care. She used that time to think about how she could turn the tables on the rabbit, lining up everything she knew from this short stint together like bottles for target practice.

Firstly, she was strong. Ungodly strong for a rabbit. Size wasn’t everything in the badlands but there was such a thing as weightclass. Marybell wasn’t exactly physical in her early career but she’d grown stronger in the tough landscape, yet this rabbit folded her like a pretzel and she was at least a foot and a half-shorter than her. Marybell suspected her bondage hindered her but there was a doubt in that, as if Jude could somehow overpower her on equal grounds. Maybe she had some horse in her, would explain the horsecock.

Hybrids weren’t unknown. Lions and tigers make ligers, donkeys and horses make mules. Interbreeding outside of a species was not uncommon though it was looked down upon as something only the lower classes did. Usually the resulting offspring took after the mother because anyone not an elephant or hippo trying to give birth to one was going to have a rough time. As a child sneaking about her family estate she’d heard rumors that some non-standard hybrids existed with traits of their other parents. Some sort of chimeric mistake like a cheetah with antlers or a canine with claws. Few made it past infancy.

It’d make sense if Jude was that sort of hybrid. Marybell couldn’t just ignore the horsecock pounding her earlier. That brought up another thing she realized with Jude. Most bounty hunters she’d met in her life as a criminal were either crazy with their freedom to play lawman outside of the law, or just saw it as another job and could be bribed with money. The few she saw who rattled on about justice typically didn’t last. But Jude had something off about her. There was a contempt in her words. The world seemed to drop a degree or two whenever the rabbit spoke to her directly. It felt personal. As to why, Marybell wasn’t sure. She’d not known many rabbits beyond her godfather’s maids and some of the victims in caravans her gang robbed.

“You done wasting my time?” Jude’s icy voice sent Marybell’s ears straight. The rabbit ripped her from the water, shoving her to the dirt before grabbing the rope of her harness to drag her along the dirt and mud. The bounty hunter took her seat atop a log and opened her duster, revealing the soft flesh of the hefty horsecock outlined along her pants. Marybell bit her lips at the sight of it, angry that she found it a welcoming one.

Jude fished it out. The mass of meat could blot the sun if she angled it right. Marybell gulped. The smell of sweat from the long day waltzed its way through her nostrils and, like flint to tinder, set something alight inside her. She cursed her instincts. “Fuck you,” she said aloud.

Jude let go of her cock. She leaned forward, letting the fat horsecock sink just under Marybell’s chin as the rabbit clasped the mare’s skull with both hands and forced her to look into those cold green eyes. “Did I say you could speak?”

“You can’t stop me.”

“Only reason I don’t cut out your tongue is because it feels nice, princess, so I suggest you get smart and learn your place.”

Princess. Her godfather, her father’s best friend and business partner, was the only person to ever call her that. A playful title he offered whenever visiting, pretending to be some knight in a far-off land who came with treats. Her parents said he spoiled her, and she supposed there was some truth to that. It’s why no one else called her that, preferring simple titles such as ‘My Lady’ or ‘Miss’.

It wasn’t a coincidence. Not with how those green eyes stared down at her. Not with how cold the word in the bounty hunter’s tone made her feel. Jude clamped Marybell’s maw shut to keep her from speaking up. “You know what isn’t necessary for my enjoyment? Your face. So unless you want me to start leaving scars with my knife, I suggest you behave. Now,” she clenched the mare’s bottom jaw tight enough to force her to open, shoving her cock inside without fanfare, “Get to work being useful.”

The rabbit’s sadism had turned the floppy rod into a sturdy pillar. It stretched her maw and sank deep down her long face, easily hitting her throat as Jude pulled the mare down. Marybell didn’t fight it. Not because of the threat of the knife, she didn’t believe Jude would do it. Something about that threat felt empty, as if it was meant just to scare her. She’d been a bandit long enough not to care about her vanity, least as much as some sheltered spoiled rich girl. Jude worded it like that was the person she was talking to, as if that was the image of who Marybell was in her mind. An image that shouldn’t exist from the wanted posters, who didn’t know her full story at all.

Jude knew her.

Marybell struggled to recall if she knew the black rabbit. Jude’s ever-present hold forced her to breathe through her nose, a task that took precious focus from her memories. What bunnies she could recall were in service to her parents or her godfather, arguably all from the same family if her daddy’s stories were to be believed.

“You’re slacking, princess,” Jude’s tone didn’t change but the weight of her words carried a sadistic joy. Her grip tightened as she bobbed her captive’s head down her cock. “Don’t feel any tongue. Give me a reason to keep it. Make yourself useful.”

Marybell choked. Her muscles stiffened. Breaths started and stopped at her nose like an engine going out. Jude didn’t let go. She was determined to make Marybell struggle, to make her suffer. That was what made the mare weak in her legs. The personal stake her captor had. Most men who wanted her just wanted the idea they had of her, the connections of her family, or her resources. They didn’t want her, the person. Jude saw that person and, for whatever reason, wanted it to struggle under her foot. She never said as much, but Marybell had a gift for reading people. It was her choice to ignore it that got her into so much trouble.

“Who are you?” Marybell asked when Jude pulled her off for a momentary breath.

The question seemed to catch the two color rabbit off-guard. She sat quietly in the moment, her fat clock glistening with Marybell’s saliva as it rested on the mare’s long face. “Catching on, princess?” She said, tilting her head, “Well, I’ll give you three guesses. First–”

Her ear shot up. A gunshot rang. People who lived in the Badlands generally had two reactions to violence, three if they were the capable sort. They either cower and ball themselves up to be as small as possible, which was Marybell’s best option in her bondage, or they run for cover. Jude, being the capable sort, reached for her revolver and fired off in the direction she heard it. To most this would be a waste of bullets since she couldn’t have known where the shot was coming from, but Marybell heard a cry of someone getting hit. The five shots after meant they weren’t alone.

When outgunned and not cowering, people in the Badlands took the second option; Running for cover. There wasn’t any in the watering hole, save for the watering hole. Marybell heard a splash and, against her better judgement, looked to see the rippling pond shiver from the increased mass of someone diving in. While it was true that hiding underwater could reduce the speed of a bullet, it did mean you had to come up for air eventually.

Her heartbeat pounded against her chest with each second passing as she watched the water’s surface. Bubbles formed but slowed. Ripples shrank. Blood seeped to the surface. She felt a pang in her chest at the idea that Jude was dead. Irrational emotion for her captor, her savior.

“Well, as I live and breathe!” shouted an all too familiar man with an all too irritating voice. Marybell struggled to rise in her bindings, turning to see a coyote dressed in the rough trappings of a Badlands bandit step out into the clearing. He pulled down the green bandana from his face to reveal a smug smile that Marybell dreamed about caving in with her hooves. “I was right on the money, wasn’t I, boys?”

Two other bandits stepped out with him. One lion, another a bull, Dirk and Kirk. Two lunkheads that could break bones between their knuckles while looking the victim dead in the eye. Marybell knew this because she’d had them break fingers when people didn’t comply, though sometimes they got impatient and just went for the entire arm. She suspected at least one of them, maybe both, were the kind of boys to rip the legs off of insects without caring who was watching. That kind of muscle and preference made them a terror in the gang, one Marybell used so long as she let them have their fun. Unfortunately, they weren’t thick enough to be blindly loyal, as Joey showcased in his mutiny.

“Right you are, boss,” said Dirk.

“Thought we left her hanging?” asked Kirk.

Joey nodded, twirling his revolver like an expert without the restraint of one who knew better. “That we did, and I couldn’t sleep thinking about how horrible it was that we did. Why, when we saw you weren’t there, Marybell, we knew we had to rescue you.”

Joey was a liar. She knew it when she recruited him, thinking she could at least direct that to something useful. From a distance she learned his ticks and discovered that he was the most calm when lying to people. So she spat in his direction. “Some rescue,” she said, playing along with nothing but words, “Why don’t you come here and untie me?” She made an effort to not eye the knife at his hip. Didn’t want to give away what she’d do the second he took the bait.

Joey was a horndog but no fool. “Boys, why don’t you help our old friend up and carry her along back to base? I think it’s time I make amends with her, personally.”

Marybell kicked out and demanded Kirk and Dirk not to touch her. They ignored her, binding the rope gag just a little too tight compared to Jude’s knots before hoisting her over one shoulder. When she flailed her free legs one of them took a spare rope to bind them together. “Bag her head,” Joey ordered.

“But she already knows where the base is,” said Dirk, holding a spare sack open as if he’d realized the error midway through.

“Did I stutter?” Joey growled.

Dirk looked back down with furrowed brows, “Did you?”

Joey, realizing how fragile leadership can be, held his hands out to pacify the situation, “Old habits, Dirk. We don’t normally bring people bound and unblindfolded to base, you know that as well as I do.”

If Marybell weren’t gagged she’d fan the flames more. She knew Joey didn’t plan on that because he was too much of an opportunistic bastard to plan ahead. Admittedly that was her anger talking because he did backstab her after what may have been months of planning. Or just minutes. The angel and devil on her opposing shoulders argued this face when she stopped bothering to get out of Dirk’s hands on the way to the safehouse.

The safehouse in question was an ancient cliffside village. Hollowed into the stone by masonry that, by her education, shouldn’t have been possible at the time. Upon first discovering it she figured her teachers had some gaps in their sources. It was less a village and more of a fortress with natural walls carved from sandstone and supported by calcified wooden support beams in several rooms as well as ancient mortar that stuck stone together for so long they might as well be fused. There was little of value in the place besides shelter, making it perfect as a hideaway for any gang hauling loot. Its major weakness was a lack of obvious escape routes, something Marybell had been trying to achieve when she was in charge via a small mining operation through the cliff. The last thing she wanted was to be caught in a siege in her own base.

And now she was being carried into it like a prisoner. No, not even that. Prisoners got to walk. She was more like a prized catch, especially from all the hollering and whistling of her old gang as they peered over the walls to see them coming.

“Thought you were out getting water?” One of them asked when they passed the main door.

Joey brushed the concern off with a wave of his hand. “Watering hole got tainted with someone who didn’t want to share. We couldn’t do anything about it. We still got plenty of reserves to last us until the next raid.”

“Which is?” Another asked.

“I’m working on it,” Joey’s smile didn’t waiver but his tone dropped. “I got a plan, don’t worry. Dirk, Kirk, bring Marybell to my quarters and leave us be. I’d like some alone time with the old boss.”

“Thought we left her out to hang?” Someone said.

“Fate’s been kind to bring us back to her,” Joey said with all the vigor of a street preacher. He’d once told her he’d been raised by a priest, but he also said he’d been raised in a family of cobblers with an amount of siblings that changed with every telling. All that was true was that he had the conviction to sound convincing.

Of course, sounding convincing and delivering results were two different things.

Joey’s room was her old room. It was the most specious space in the largest building in the village, which in retrospect was about the size of four, maybe five, jail cells. It had all her accouterments, from her stylized vanity mirror and desk, the wardrobe likely bereft of the finer things she stole, and a bed with silk sheets she’d taken care to keep clean. Care that Joey didn’t share given the dust on the edges. He caught her glaring and grinned when they were alone. “What? The place needed a man’s touch.”

“Where’s the man in question?” Marybell asked when Joey let her gag slip free. She’d been set up by the bed and tried to press herself against the wall. Better to hide the hand she’d been spending the last hour of travel trying to free.

The coyote shook off the verbal wound with a chuckle. He turned around and took in a deep breath, shaking his hands to let the anxieties out. “Good to know you’re still in high spirits. Would have figured being left for dead would have broken you. Glad to see I was wrong.”

“I’d ask you to cut the bullshit but that’s all you’ve got.” She caught his eyes wandering down and puffed out her bare chest. “At least your eyes are honest. Probably the only thing about you that is.”

“A man can’t control what he wants, darling. He can only control how he gets it.”

“Or whether he gets it.”

“No,” Joey said. The coyote pulled out a bottle of whisky from one of her drawers. One of her bottles. By the look of it, he’d opened it not long after leaving her to hang. “A man either gets what he wants, or doesn’t. He’s in charge of how that happens and if he doesn’t then it’s a failing, not a choice. That’s ambition, you see. Ambition is inherently manly, it’s why men are always in charge. Now, you did a good job gathering this posse and keeping them together, but you were never in charge. You didn’t crack the whip so to speak, all you had were carrots.” He clapped a glass onto the desk, poured himself a drink, and took it, turning around to point a single finger from the hand holding his cup. “A whole patch of them between your legs.”

“A woman’s got her needs.” She gave a non-committal shrug, “Fingers only help so much. Not my fault some of y’all got too attached.”

“It was when you started playing favorites.” Joey smiled but there was a fury in his glare. He chugged the glass, hissed with the burning sensation crawling down his throat, and poured him another. “Did you know there was a betting pool? We liked to guess who you’d pick next. See, everyone figured you had a type. I liked betting on Dirk, or Kirk.”

“Not yourself?”

“It’s offputting for a man to bet on himself like that,”

“And it has nothing to do with your small dick?” It wasn’t small by coyote standards, but she knew Joey hated being compared to anyone that wasn’t a canine. Most men in her experience tended to overvalue the size of their dicks. And while a mare like her liked something filling, it was less the size and more the attitude she could get behind. Hence why no one in her gang was appealing outside of the most desperate nights.”

“And here I thought I’d miss that wit of yours,” Joey scoffed. “Point I’m trying to make is that you weren’t a leader for us. You were a prize, a prize that they all see me holding now that I’m in charge. So, as the new man on top, I’d like to make you an offer to guarantee your safety from their vices.”

“If they’ve got vices then they’ve got each other to help with it. You know as well as I that a man just needs a hole and men have got two.”

Joey nodded, “Yeah, but no one likes to be the bitch. Well, some men do, but we’ve got none of them sissies out here. Weak men don’t last in the Badlands.”

“You’re still here.”

“Being clever helps,” He said, taking another drink instead of her bait. “But being clever ain’t enough, at least not when you’ve reached a wall like I have. Though I loathe to admit it, you’re cleverer than me. I don’t think it’s by much, but you’ve got all that upper-class schooling helping you whereas I’ve barely passed the sixth grade before dropping out. You know things I don’t, understand things I have yet to grasp. The gang needs those smarts of yours, Marybell. I need you. So, I’m willing to offer you a deal. By my counsel, my queen, and I’ll provide you safety in this land. Together we can grow a small empire, a bandit kingdom where the small folk are our vassals and the big folk turn the other cheek with the right bribe. A paradise, for you and me.”

Marybell knew the importance of a pause. Her daddy was a businessman after all, and good businessmen don’t jump into deals without thinking on them. Even if they agreed with the idea and wanted in on it, agreeing too quickly was like showing your hand to everyone else at the cards table. Didn’t matter if you had a good hand or the best hand, you’d cut off your successes by ending the game too early.

So she waited, eyes glued on Joey’s smug face. She waited, and waited, and waited some more until the air was good and clear. Because no matter how much she waited, no matter how much she bounced around his idea in her head, she knew it wouldn’t work. Not that it was much of a plan, more of a big picture idea that was doomed to collapse because Joey’s snout would be too far up his ass to hear her advice. She’d be nothing more than a trophy, a pet he could pretend to listen to.

She laughed. Her bindings strained her chest but she laughed anyway. “What’s so funny?” Joey asked, not expecting his pitch to go this way.

“You’re such a piece of shit, Joey,” Marybell said at the drop of a hat. “First you try to butter me up as an underling only to stab me in the back and take my place. Now you’re trying to do the same under the pretense that you need me. I can tell in your eyes that you’re just saying what you think I’d want to hear to agree. That’s your whole playbook. You’re nothing but a slimy people pleaser who’s forgotten how to be anyone else. A bandit kingdom? You ain’t got what it takes to be a boss, let alone a king. You’re nothing but a brat itching to get what he wants. I don’t believe in corporal punishment but clearly someone should have beat some sense into you.”

He smacked her for that. Right across the face with his backhand. It hurt. Not as much as Jude’s, and it was far less enjoyable. She spat on the ground. “You hit like a bitch, Joey. Maybe you should let Dirk or Kirk enjoy you like one.”

Joey took a deep breath. Glass clinked against hard wood as he set it down. He took another deep breath. Then another. Faster now. “You self-righteous, prissy, upper-class, cunt!” He slapped her again. Joey was smaller than her and didn’t carry much weight, but the knuckles of his backhand helped push Marybell back. “I offer you a good deal and you insult me? I shouldn’t have expected anything else, I can see it in your eyes that you think you’re better. Just because you fell from someplace higher don’t mean you ain’t in the shit with the rest of us.”

“So you knew I’d say no and still tried?” Marybell laughed, “I guess now we know who’s the dumbest between Dirk and Kirk, and his name don’t rhyme.”

Now, nobody liked being insulted (save for the folks that get off from it). It went against their confidence and self-worth. For some men, that was all they had or at least all they saw themselves having. So when Joey, who’d spent much of his life worming his way up the chain of power was laughed at by someone who was at his mercy, someone literally bound and naked and should be begging to take his deal, he snapped. That cool, conniving, trickster went fuming with rage and screamed, tackling Marybell atop the bed.

Normally the physical difference between the two of them would put the attempt in her favor. She was not only taller than Joey, but far stronger since she actually gave a damn on strengthening her muscles. But no amount of muscle could help her break the rope harness holding her steady. Without her arms she didn’t have much to throw him off with, nor stop his hands from wrapping around her throat.

“You’re mine one way, or another,” he hissed, seeping his anger through an indignant smile. “It’ll take time, sure, but eventually you’ll be thanking me every night I use that hole of yours. Maybe after I let the boys have their fun with you. So long as they know who you belong to.”

“Me,” said Jude.

A small but muscular black furry arm looped around Joey’s neck. Rage turned to confusion then panic in the split second it took for Jude to pull the coyote off Marybell. The mare swallowed deep for delicious air, hands trying and failing to reach for the bruises around her neck. Jude ignored her from atop Joey’s body, currently flailing on the ground with her arm wrapped around him like iron. Not a sound escaped him. Not for lack of trying by how wide his mouth was open and how panicked his eyes were. Jude held him there until he stopped moving, and then some, not getting up until that body was limp and gone.

The bunny looked ragged by the lamplight. Her duster was gone and her clothes were wet and ragged. Her hair hung free like a wild woman, hiding the white patch across one eye until she looked back at Marybell. She’d been taking steady breaths the entire time, pacing herself from exertion.

“You’re…you’re alive,” Marybell didn’t plan on sounding relieved.

“No thanks to them.” Jude started scouring Joey’s pockets, then his desk when she found nothing of value. “Took my favorite knife and boots.”

“How?”

“Well, I’d have done the same.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Jude eyed her with annoyed, if thankful, contempt. “There’s a cave in the watering hole. It’s hard to find and, frankly, not real roomy. But in a pinch someone my size can hide there if shit goes sour. Came out not long after they shot me. Your old gang’s got some lousy shots by the way, it’s a good thing most theft happens by intimidation.”

Marybell had heard about underwater caves but they might as well be traps unless you had gills. “Why are you here?”

“They shot me, Princess.”

“Bullshit,” Marybell gritted her teeth, “And why are you calling me that?”

Jude took some leftover twine from Joey’s desk to tie her headfur into a ponytail. “Cause you look like a princess, Princess,” she said after a moment. A moment too long for it to be the truth.

“You know me, don’t you? Outside of the bounty. Have we met before?” Unlikely as she’d rarely interacted with any scoundrels before leaving her betrothed on the altar, and there were few and far rabbits in the Badlands that were not part of a larger gang or were criminals at all. Her only experience with them was with her godfather’s choice of servants. Some of which were traded with her father. “Did your mother work for my–”

Jude shoved her to the wall by way of a tight grip on Marybell’s throat before she could finish the sentence. Cold eyes stared her down. They made Marybell feel like hot steam from an iceball hitting boiling water.

“Was your daddy a good man?” She asked.

“W-What?”

“Was your daddy a good man?” Jude loosened her grip to let Marybell speak unhindered. “I want to hear your say in it.”

Like anything with parents, it was complicated. As a young filly her daddy spoiled her, but as an adult she now knew he expected her to pay him back by following every rule he set. She might have been doing it all her life without realizing it. “He was. Until I said no.”

“He never was. Neither was your godfather. My mother knew that all too well.” Her hand wandered down Marybell’s chest, finger intimately trailing along the ropes. “See, like most buns in desperate times, she needed money. It’s hard to find work given what people believe about rabbits, so she told herself once she’d found a job she’d never let go. Your godfather knew that, just as your daddy did. They had power to do whatever they wanted to those desperate enough to work for them. All it cost was two dollars a week. Cheaper than any whore you could get on the streets and more convenient. Might as well have made her a slave, but the laws said only criminals can be punished with that and bribing judges is expensive. Why ruin a good thing? It’s not as though proof of infidelity could happen.”

With open legs she sat on Marybell’s thigh, letting the outline of her horsecock press against the mare’s leg. “Funny thing about low odds is that they’re still odds. Now, my mommy did her best to raise me, even got me a job in your house when I was old enough to work. Course, old enough meant I was too young to understand the nuance in the world, so I just had to watch you be praised like some princess for doing the most basic shit meanwhile I’d get cussed out if I missed an inch. Or maybe your daddy knew who I was. Maybe he suspected I wasn’t his best friend’s spawn but his. Anything could have happened behind them closed doors. But even without a proper education I knew staying there for long wasn’t a good idea. Either I’d let envy kill my heart, or I’d expose to someone just the kind of people your folks were. So I left. I left years before you had your little tantrum and ran off to play bandit. I’d forgotten about you for so long up until then, and when I finally saw you on that branch, I figured it was a fitting end to a Princess. Hanged like a common criminal.

“But then, as I passed you by, I thought to myself that it didn’t sit right. Can’t explain it, or maybe I just don’t want to, but having you in my hands feels right. Feels proper. But now, I got a job to do.” She fastened the rope gag before Marybell could argue against her and tied her legs together to keep her from running. “And, as an added bonus, I get to burn everything you built. So relax, Princess, while I raze your little empire to ash and dust.”

Everything she’d just said had to be a lie. Marybell watched the rabbit leave, teeth buried in the rope gag as she called the rabbit a liar. Her daddy would never. Her godfather would never. They were good men. Good men.

But then she thought about it. Laying in bed, listening to the gunshots and the screams, Marybell realized all the little blindspots of her youth. The way the two men looked at their staff, how cold her father and mother’s relationship was, and how hot he could get if one didn’t play along. It’s why she was out in the Badlands instead of living the high life as someone else’s pet wife. She didn’t want to be her mother, to be lifeless in the presence of another man. But she hadn’t known the cause. She’d assumed her mother had always been so lacking. Could her father have been the cause? How many maids did her father enjoy in private? How many were shared between him and her godfather?

She thought back to the serving girls. Though of how they stiffened in the presence of the patriarchs. Daddy told her it was because they knew their place, but now the meaning was clear. And in those memories she saw Jude. The rabbit with cold green eyes and a white patch of fur over one eye. The same shade as her godfather’s coat. The same color as his eyes. Those cold, simmering eyes that stared back at her when the bunny returned. Her ragged clothes torn away from the fighting, her fur glistening with sweat, and her gaze locked onto Marybell.

There was only a slight difference from her godfather and Jude. Marybell’s godfather seemed to be filled with envy whenever he glared at someone, be it her mother or her. Jude’s was more like a predator lumbering towards its prey. A look that, against all reason, made Marybell’s heart yearn as she spread her legs for the bounty hunter.

Jude kicked her pants aside. Her horsecock stood erect, bouncing with each step closer until she was upon Marybell. Ungodly strength pushed the mare back against the bed. Their lips met briefly, with Jude’s teeth tugging on Marybell’s lower lip before she traveled down the neck, leaving light bit marks to mark her territory. The mare’s breasts were marred with slaps, and teeth marks, each made wordlessly from the rabbit whilst she ground that thick rod against the wet flaps beckoning her deeper. Marybell whined behind her gag, thrusting her hips to urge the rod inside her. Jude ignored her. She’d go inside when she wanted, as was her authority. Marybell was her prize, her property, and she’d enjoy her how she pleased.

So when that flat head finally spread her lips Marybell shuddered in restrained ecstasy. Jude filled her slowly, adapting to the heat and pressure around her cock with her pleasure in mind. That suited Marybell just fine, until she wanted more. Jude’s slow pace made her bindings strain with her anticipation.

The rabbit gained speed. The cold calculating thrusts gave way to a rapid pistoning. Jude’s grip went tight. Her balls clapped against the mare with every slam back into her. Marybell’s gagged grunts echoed along the wet plapping noise, growing louder as Jude growled. The rabbit lost herself in the moment, ignorant of Marybell’s first orgasmic cry.

The rod pulsed inside her. Its discharge filled her insides with a thick soupy warmth that roiled around with every thrust. The rabbit thrust once, twice, and three times before locking her dick down only where horses could reach. Marybell swore her insides were bruised and a sick side of her was glad for it.

Jude collapsed over her. The fighting, the fucking, and the surviving, had gotten to her. In that moment Marybell saw her as not the cold bounty hunter who’d no sooner toss her aside if she looked at her funny, but someone who risked life and limb to protect her. Someone who cared more than her daddy did. More than her fiance, who only saw her as material. Jude claimed her as such, but she was honest about it and that made Marybell more seen.

“I’m sick in the head,” she thought to herself, hooking her head around Jude’s the nuzzle her.

That morning Marybell awoke to find her bindings gone, as was Jude. The latter set her alarm off, leaving her to kick out of bed and rush to see just how far the bounty hunter got with leaving her behind. She found the black rabbit outside, slowly taking down the hanged bodies of Marybell’s former gang.

“You…you did this?” Marybell said, realizing her gag had been removed too.

“The weak ones anyway. The ones that were too strong took a more direct death.” Neither Kirk or Dirk were hanging. Each member had a hood over their head to hide their faces. They must have been alive when Jude hung them, but Marybell didn’t hear any begging last night.

“So…what happens next?”

Jude’s glare was unreadable. She’d taken a mix of her gang’s clothes to replace her own, looking more like a patchwork outlaw than a bounty hunter. “What’s next is I bring proof to the next town and get my bounty. Your gang racked up quite the price. There’s a reward for all of them.”

Marybell stepped back. “So why undo my bindings?” The comfort she felt at the sight of the rope gave her revulsions. “Am I next on the noose?”

Jude stared coldly at her. “Princess, I’ve had more than enough opportunities to take your head. I don’t want your bounty, I want you in your proper place.” She uncoiled the rope, letting it dangle over the dirt, “Out of a kindness I let you wake up unbound. But if we do this next part the hard way, that kindness is forfeit.”

Something about the bunny, who was significantly shorter than Marybell, made the mare feel so small. Like she was beneath notice, an annoyance finally answered with personal vengeance. And yet Marybell felt right under that gaze. Hence why she kneeled with outstretched arms when Jude approached.

Marybell walked out of her old hiding spot bound and gagged with Jude leading the way. Hanging by her side was a bag of things Marybell turned away from to remain ignorant.

“Next town’s a few days walk,” Jude said with as blank an expression as ever, “Bounty best be worth it.”