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The clocks in the lobby and every office struck six, and their warm chimes carried with them a simple but compelling message for those in Lankett & Co. Law Firm. It said to them, _time to go home, TGIF, try not to blow your whole paycheck on beer. _To Desmond Lankett, young but acute paralegal, it meant very little. His work day rarely ended, and he had a propensity for working himself to exhaustion well into the wee hours.

To Ariel, the six o'clock chime meant one job ended, but another began. It had been that way for a year, and the arrangement was permanent, so said her boss now and then.

She shut down the lights in the lobby, said goodnight to the employees she passed, and made her way into the back rooms where her personal locker waited away from those of the other employees. Inside was the outfit she wore for Mr. Lankett every Friday without fail, and putting her eyes on it always made her smile. It took her back and reminded her of what was really important in life: the crack of the whip and the scent of latex.

Ariel entered the head office on the topmost floor with her usual air of authority. She let the mahogany doors thud on their stoppers and strode through into her employer's office not as the secretary who took calls and directed clients with marginally submissive politeness, but as Mistress Ariel whom answered to nobody. Her scales gleamed, and her fur shined. Nobody was quite sure how a combination of feline and koi fish could appear so perfectly right, but there was Mistress Ariel as an example of just that.

Desmond was not at his desk. He rarely was, but Ariel knew he was never far. She fastidiously tucked away his papers and folders before prowling up onto his desk, which was so opulently large and heavy as to support her like a stage.

Finally the young Mr. Lankett came back, entering from the western doors where the boardroom lie. "Oh, Ariel," he muttered, beginning to blush at once. "God, is it six already? Is it Friday?"

"Six fifteen, and yes it is, young man," said the girl, her finned tail flicking above her heart-shaped bottom. Her latex creaked luridly as she straightened and shifted, putting herself onto her knees, but never to beg. With her small but fierce riding crop, she gestured his way. "Take those clothes off. Work is over this week, and it's time for you to be a good boy and relax."

"You know I have a lot to do tonight, don't you?" the fox asked her as he disrobed. A dreamy smile rested on his face, the same smile he always had around Mistress Ariel no matter how often he saw her.

The koi smiled. "Oh, how _right _you are, my pet." She beckoned her nude boy closer, and simply waggling her finger caused the latex to creak. She herself loved the noise and felt a little self-indulgent wetness begin in her loins. "Even through your markings, I can see the circles under your eyes. It won't do at all."

"Guess you'll need to spank me," said Desmond, who suddenly found one of Ariel's heels coming his way. He flinched and flung his paws out, catching her leg and knowing full well that had she wanted to kick him, she would have. "Mm, hello there," he cooed, sliding his digits up her calf and down again. Her latex leggings seemed to beg to be licked, and it was with a quiet but whorish croon that he dragged his tongue from toe to ankle, leaving a smear of saliva in his wake.

"Very good," said the girl, yet she tapped his nose with her crop when he leaned in for another lick. To his disappointed eyes, she cooed, "On the floor, boy. I require somewhere nice to sit after spending all day in that awful office chair."

Desmond's weary eyes brightened. "Ooh, god. You're gonna-?"

"On the floor," Ariel reiterated, not as severely but with a look which conveyed how little she enjoyed repeating herself.

A thin, impish smile creased Desmond's black lips. He lowered his gaze somewhat, looking briefly at her breasts, which sported soft tawny fur. Her teal barbells glimmered green in the waning sunlight. "Of course, Mistress Ariel," he said deferentially.

Though part koi, Ariel was fully feline in her hungry gaze and smooth, tactile mannerisms. She straddled her foxcoon, and the latex warmed by her loins bumped his stiffening, yet very small penis. Her digits, gleaming in the latex, felt across his inoffensive body gently, lovingly, and possessively. She liked Desmond's body for its simplicity; his nipples had no piercings in them, leaving him beautifully smooth and soft. "Hm. Maybe next week, I'll bring in some things for you to try on. You know... lacy things." She smiled, looking almost malicious. "You'd make a very pretty girl."

Blush warmed Desmond's cheeks like an ember in his mouth. His big, bushy tail thumped giddily on the floor. "It's been a long time since I've worn women's clothing," he said plainly.

"I knew it," Ariel tutted. "Almost takes the fun out of dressing you up myself. _Almost. _But that comes another day, my soft little friend. You have other duties to attend to."

Ariel moved with grace whether treading liquid or land. She rose and swung herself around upon Desmond, brushing his snout with the latex on her thigh, grinding but not dragging on him as if it were some tantric dance. Resting with her loins warming his fuzzy neck, she put the open bottom of her one-piece not an inch from Desmond's nose. Not at all delicately, she pulled aside one of the cheeks of her ass and bared her pucker to him.

"This is what you want," said Mistress Ariel. Her tone was not querying, but firm. "And you're _not _coming up for air until I say so."

Desmond licked his jowly lips until they shined. His ears were splayed back, his tail thumping madly. "You really deserve a raise for this."

Mistress Ariel chuckled and lifted herself, slid back, dropped again. Desmond's snout slipped perfectly into the gap of her one-piece, just as it was meant for. She bit her lip when his nose met the pucker of her anus, and when he licked, she allowed herself a shiver. The truth was that sitting on faces and having her ass worshiped were things she could live without, yet it was Desmond's favorite activity by far. And as she looked across his slim, not quite scrawny body and his small but extremely eager penis, she felt a little pleasure in giving him his indulgences.

Resting more of her weight on Desmond saw Ariel nearly smother him. She could feel his breaths, each of them tight and difficult deep in her ass crack. She purred, tailfin swishing as though she were swimming lazily in the air. "Good boy. Good boy," she emphatically cooed for him, leaning inward and nearly doubling over to better press her bottom into his snout. "And now for this little fellow. Because little is, of course, the operative word when referring to it. Isn't that right, Desmond?"

"Mhm," Desmond answered, the only verbal reply he could give in this situation.

She dragged her finger up the underside of Desmond's penis and thought, not for the first time, that it was the smallest she had seen in her years as a mistress. She knew also that having this smallness remarked on was an enormous turn-on for her boss, and that was just the kind of information a working girl like Ariel made use of. "Do you know why I've never let you inside of me?" asked the koi, pinching loosely on his cock with thumb and forefinger. She tugged downward, exposing the brilliantly pink flesh of the glans. "Because I'd mistake it for a finger if you did. It really is no wonder you just pay me for this rather than try and find a woman to put up with this."

Beneath, she heard a gratified, if small moan. His tongue slopped across her pucker and his paws felt eagerly over her back, and briefly around to the fair and firm mounds of her breasts.

Ariel watched a bead of pre ooze from Desmond's shaft. With a lick of her lips more devious than hungry, she closed her latex-covered fingers around him in a fist, and she began to pump and squeeze not lovingly, but roughly, as though it was her intent to milk him. The harder you jerk me off, the better, Desmond had said early on, when boundaries were still being learned.

"You're hopeless, aren't you? A great paralegal, I'll give you that, but when it comes to sex..." She clicked her tongue, and then only the sound of a latex hand squeezing and stroking a very inoffensive cock was in the air. Even Desmond's huffing and slathering in the by-then humid confines of Ariel's ass crack were quiet compared to the loud and unmistakable sound of the girl's work. She cut the sound when she paused and switched hands, proving as adept with one as the other, but now her free hand found its way to his balls. "Just as small as the rest of you," she clucked. A gaze at his feet showed them pointing inward, yet his toes had not begun to curl.

"You're going to cum," she said, her tone hard to read as a command or a statement. Desmond was simply happy with his situation, and he cupped her breasts with eager, rubbing fingers. Ariel allowed his indulgence. "Mmn. Yes. You're going to cum," she said, and this time her voice was full of smug satisfaction. His toes curled and his penis throbbed in her fingers with a mind of its own. She couldn't feel how much he was leaking through her latex, but by then her palm was utterly slicked. "You're going to pop for me already. That must be incredibly embarrassing for you."

Biting her lip, grinning at the corners of her mouth, Ariel bore down on him. She mashed her ass into his face as though she were really trying to starve him of oxygen, and she jerked and tugged so roughly that her fist pounded his pelvic bone. "Cum for me," she said, speaking in barely a murmur. "Blow your tiny load. I know you have it in you, boy. Do it for your mistress."

Every single Friday, Ariel did everything just right for Desmond. She had been his mistress for a year, and she still had the same touch and the necessary level of detachment towards him. When she felt his hips buck and heard a muffled moan, she clenched her fist down tight. He came into her fingers and she grinned, reveling in gratification both for herself and her labor. As she let go of his pulsing, flushed cock, a drool of semen fell from her latex glove. It coated Desmond's shaft like a candy glaze and drizzled into his plush, blonde bush. Ariel, still very much in her mistress persona, regarded the semen in her glove almost boredly. She lifted her ass from his face and ignored his soft gasp. Quickly and smoothly, she turned on her heel and offered her palm to him, outstretched as if to beckon.

"Clean this," she said. "I only swallow when I'm with a _real _man, and moreover, I never lick my fingers clean. It's what I have you for."

"Yeah, I-, I understand, my mistress," Desmond said in a voice plagued with the stupefying effect of an orgasm and afterglow. Yet he sat up spryly, and he put his enviably long tongue to work as swiftly on her palm as he had on the puckered entrance of her anus. Ariel watched him closely, an unreadable smile quirking her lips. When Desmond was through, he sat back, and Ariel patted his head fondly with her slobbery hand.

Collecting her crop and standing, Ariel said, "You've been a good boy tonight, Desmond. I'll see you next Friday. Go home and rest."

"All right," Desmond said, smiling but blushing. Still sitting, he asked Ariel as she stepped over him, "Can I...? I mean-, would you let me give you one more quick lick, for the road?"

Ariel paused just past the foxcoon, and looked over her shoulder. Her behind gleamed with a bit of his drool through the window in her one-piece. "You may not," she said firmly. "Go home and rest."

Desmond watched her go. He sighed. She was long gone when he murmured, rather tiredly, "Wonder if I can afford that full-time."