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"Go ahead and sing for me, you pathetic excuse for a yeen."

Vicky reeled as the crop struck against her exposed tush. Fists clenched, she bit harder against the rubber ball strapped into her mouth. Impeding her voice, the hyena forced whatever lyrics she could. The attempt earned her a laugh and another smack from the woman behind her.

"No, no, no," the voice said, "Not one of your pathetic little rock songs. That garbage would make my ears bleed." A leather gloved hand tightly gripped her chin, forcing her to look upwards at the cold but smiling face of Deborah Millers, the antelope she had the luck of being managed by, and the privilege to call mistress, "Do you want my ears to bleed, slut?"

Never in a million years would Vicky dare wish such a thing. She shook her head, losing herself in the deep sapphire blue of her mistress's eyes, with light gleaming off her small glasses. The antelope smiled, a twisted sadistic grin that had Rebecca's pseudo-cock dripping a puddle against the small cashmere carpet. Something she'd no doubt have to clean later, first with her tongue with arms bound behind her, then correctly with soap and hot water.

"Good." Deborah said, letting go and stepping back, giving the hyena a full glimpse of her outfit. A tight and black as night leather dress stopping at her waist, hiding her breasts from the submissive yeen. Vicky had not yet earned that privilege, to stare upon her mistress at all was a blessing. From the loose hanging blonde hair, leather elbow length gloves, and the black hoof spats, her mistress carried it all with pose and perfection. A goddess in her presence, one who spared mercy in correcting the worthless hyena.

Subconsciously, Vicky humped the air with her pronounced pussy, knowing full well she had not even earned the taste of her mistress's hooves. Deborah only laughed, folding her arms and letting the riding crop dangle loosely as she bridged a finger under her chin. "Such a horny girl." She said in a sickeningly sweet mocking tone, "You think just fucking the air is enough to let you inside me? If you can't sing the right song, I won't even bother sticking a finger down that miserable little cunt."

Knowing a promise when she heard one, Vicky straightened her posture within the limits of her bindings. Her arms were held back by a single sleeve, leaving her breasts exposed to be swatted and teased as much as desired. Her legs were spread by a bar, leaving her balance at the mercy of a hook around her harness. Never her collar, though she felt it against her neck with each breath.

"Let's have a refresher, shall we?" She said, holding her crop like an orchestral baton, "Repeat after me, we'll force the song later. 'Shiny, shiny, shiny boots of leather.'"

Vicky's gag did no favors in repeating. Deborah encircled her, hooves clicking against the floor with each new lyrical line. "Whiplash girl child in the dark. Comes in bells, your servant, don't forsake her." The crop struck down with each failed mimicry. Striking her bass, tits, thighs, and even her dripping extended cunt. In gagged pain, Vicky continued repeating the lyrics, line after line, stanza after stanza. She knew Venus in Furs by heart, and Deborah was aware. But flawless repetition meant no punishment, and Vicky needed to be punished. To be reminded how weak and pathetic she was, and for another to confirm it.

"I suppose that's as good as I'll get from you." Her mistress sighed, holding the hyena's head up by the end of her crop, "I do expect better, but I am a merciful mistress, am I not?" She said, dragging that crop slowly down Vicky's chest and up the rod of her pseudo-cock, "I suppose it's time you get a little reward for trying."

Nodding in excitement, Vicky's extended pussy twitched in glee. Deborah pulled out several toys from the shadows, from dildos to beaded wands. Her tail wagged quickly, drool dripping from her gagged maw. The antelope kneeled down and pressed the tip of the beaded wand against the entrance, encircling it torturously. "It's a shame that whenever people see this they immediately think you and your ilk want to use it to fuck people. I know plenty of you do, but there's always those who just want to be stuck deep inside this little freak of nature. I hope you're ready to-BEEP BEEP BEEP!"

Vicky's eyes shot open, staring straight up to the rotating ceiling fan above her. On reflex, her hand slammed down on the alarm clock beside her bed, but the damage was done. Her head sank into her pillow, hands over her eyes while she groaned in tired frustration and anguish that her dream broke. "Just for once can I finish?" She whispered to herself, knowing full well that the walls of her apartment weren't thick enough to blanket screams.

Wanting to lay in bed but knowing her schedule wouldn't allow it, the hyena pulled her covers off and found a wet spot in her stretched panties. Luckily she wore sportswear to bed, so she had no real worries about it stretching out. No, just got to wake up horny from a wet dream with her manager and/or her boss. The exact description Vicky wasn't sure of since, in theory, the band could fire Deborah if they desired, but Debby had that controlling aura around her that had Vicky chilling in delight. "No," she muttered to herself, digging her fingers into the mattress, "No time to be horny. You have shit to do."

Thinking of old people and dead ferals, Vicky's sex drive drastically cut down as she went about her morning routine. Brushed her teeth, making sure the highlights at the end of her dreadlocks were bright enough to look like lit fuses, showered, etc. Looking in the mirror, she had to wonder why people thought the spotted hyena stereotype fit her. Sure she was tall, most female yeens were tall. But she was more of a beanpole than a brickhouse, fitting in closer to her male cousins than her mother or ex-bodybuilding aunt. The tits probably helped, not too big but enough to be noticeable for anyone to see her and think, 'Yep, lady.' or something. Flicking her barbell nose piercing, she stepped out from the bathroom and dressed herself in a red name-brand tee-shirt and skinny jeans.

"Morning." Tiffany, her jacked shark roommate said, already in the kitchen and enjoying a protein shake. Half-heartedly nodding, Vicky started cracking eggs for her own omelette. "Good dream?"

"These fucking walls." Vicky said with a sigh.

Tiffany chuckled, "Hey, I'm not judging. Though I think I heard you call out the devil's name a few times."

"Well maybe I have sympathy for the devil."

"I can't see why," Tiffany said, rolling her eyes, "I mean, she's pretty much one of those soulless corporate types. I get that we're lucky to have a record deal with who she works for, but how can you find her attractive?"

"Maybe..." Vicky stopped herself, taking a deep breath, "Can we not discuss my preferences this morning? I just want to enjoy my breakfast before I spend the next half a day on the computer screen trying to type up lyrics and chords for tonight's practice."

"We not doing 'Hair Dye Hurricane'?" Tiffany asked, tossing her shake into the trash.

Vicky nodded, slumping her shoulders at that dumb name. "Yeah, it just isn't hitting the right beat for me. Plus I felt it was hypocritical to call out hair dye makers when we both use them."

"We don't use any that were tested on ferals."

"It just felt off, ok?" The hyena said, finishing the golden fluff of her omelet in the skillet, "It's not the message I'm feeling. Maybe I can recycle the notes for a new song, but I hate doing that. Feels lazy."

"You could ask Connie for help on that. She's the one who edits most of the music notes."

She thought about that, though the artistic half of their rat guitarist/bassist duo wasn't someone Vicky wanted to spend too much time alone with. "Her editing is her help." Not wanting to admit that the twins had a certain effect on her. One that she knew they didn't share, and judging by their own partners, wouldn't work out for her anyway. "I'll figure out something by practice. Just go...what are you doing today? You don't have work right?"

"It's Saturday so no." Tiffany said with a smug smile, "I'm just heading to the gym and keeping up my routine. Being a bouncer has its perks, but I gotta look intimidating."

"Is that a complaint? From the gym rat?"

Tiffany's smile became less smug and more threatening, exposing her collection of fangs, "I got enough problems with being threatening. The stereotype isn't fun."

"You're telling me." Vicky said, having plenty of her own issues with stereotypes.

"Just try not to overwork yourself." The shark said, grabbing her jacket, "We may have a manager and a record deal now, but we haven't gotten actual money on that to quit our day jobs just yet. Make sure to stretch every hour."

"Ok, 'mom'." She said, enjoying the salty omelet as Tiffany left. As right as her roommate was, Vicky had to imagine what it'd be like when she finally could quit being a barista. She didn't need to live in a mansion or anything, but being able to live relatively comfortably on her music, well that was any creative's dream wasn't it? The only added stress was the new feeling that every song she wrote wasn't good enough.

Just another problem to add to the pile of self-doubt.

Breakfast finished, she headed back to her room and turned her computer on. Her lyrical folder had been filled with hundreds of self-made songs, starting from her middle school days of failed start-up bands with classmates who were more interested in the dream of rock stardom rather than the work for it. Cracking her knuckles, she opened up her most recent file called, 'I'm a Sub, not a Doormat'.

"Ok. Let's see if we can make this less interpreted as me wanting to get fucked."

***

Actually having a recording booth still amazed Vicky. She and her band had to make-do with amateur methods of recording before, even making impromptu sound proofing areas. But to have an actual recording booth, where with the press of a button she could turn off Conner and Connie arguing on the other side, while she sat back in a comfy chair and went over the lyrics she wrote again and again. A nice way to avoid her headaches.

"They are still going at it." Tom, the rabbit operating most of the mixers and dials of the booth said in dreaded amazement. "You sure we don't need to call someone? They're looking like they're gonna get violent."

"Neither one of them is gonna smash their equipment." Tiffany explained, relaxing opposite of Vicky with her legs spread wide. Vicky could see the shark's flaccid cock edge out in the drummer's jeans from the corner of her eye. Part of her wondered if that intimidated Tom, but then again what part of Tiffany wasn't intimidating at a glance? The rest of her didn't care, mouthing out her lyrics as the drummer assured their rented tech specialist that the twins wouldn't actually get violent. If anything, they'd go home and fuck each other over it, wrestling for who was on top.

Hearing the doorknob turn, Vicky lazily looked over from her spot on the couch and, with widening eyes, saw their manager step into the room. "Yes, I am aware of the guidelines." The antelope said, deep in conversation on her cellphone. The exact specifics Vicky couldn't grasp, too fixated on how well that black and skirted business suit fit her. The way she walked, and talked, everything Vicky normally hated about the 'business' side of things, just looked perfect in Deborah's image. Or maybe it was just Miss Millers, whose cold glare from the thin glasses had the hyena's heart still.

"Look, I'm meeting with the band now. They're practicing and..." Deborah paused, eyeing the two rats arguing inside the booth. "I'll call you back." She said, sighing and sliding her phone back into that black leather purse. So very similar to the kind of leather Vicky dreamed of her wearing. "Tom, the fuck is going on in there?"

The black rabbit's ears drooped, "I don't know. I just said they needed to slow down and next I knew they were arguing."

"For how long?"

"Like," He checked his smartphone clock, "...fifteen minutes?"

Without hesitation, Deborah pushed him aside and pressed the intercom, "If the both of you are going to continue arguing like children, then get out of the booth for someone else. You're not being paid to prattle petty words." She flipped it off before they could respond, turning her head to Tom and deftly avoiding seeing the twins give her the middle finger. "Did they make any progress at all?" Tom shook his head, leading her to rub her temples in agony. "Arrogant little...you," She pointed out to Tiffany, "Go tell the techies to set up your drums. If we can't get the twins to do their part, the least we can do is have your set done."

"Sure thing, Satan." Tiffany said with a smile and flimsy salute, kicking off the couch and heading out of the room. Vicky sat straight when Deborah eyed her, the papers in her hand shaking with each second. Was she blushing? She couldn't, not now. Not in front of her.

"Are those the latest lyrics?" She asked. Vicky nodded, handing them over without so much as a request. Trepidation swam through her fur as Deborah looked through the notes. It shouldn't have mattered what the antelope thought, she was only their manager. The actual songs, the music of the band itself, that was all Vicky and crew. She never once believed she would care what some suit would care about when writing her music.

But Deborah was more than just a suit. At least, Vicky felt that way.

Those deep blue eyes scanned line after line with laser focus. Vicky watched her face, searching for any hint of emotion behind that mask. Did she hate it? Did she like it? Her paws dug into the couch, anxiety raging at herself for this stupid crush she couldn't control. This was her dream job, and she felt conflicted because of a sexy antelope whose hooves she wanted to kiss in submission.

"Interesting subject matter." Deborah said, staring back at her with a crack in her neutral mask. A hint of interest that had Vicky thankful for her tail being smothered in the couch. "A bit risque with the BDSM elements, but you are a punk band so I shouldn't be surprised. And if it gets popular enough, it might help spread some positive standards for BDSM, unlike most of the trash on TV."

"P-positive standards?" Vicky asked, more surprised that Deborah talked about it like she knew what BDSM was. Clearing her throat, she asked, "What do you mean?" Leaning back and crossing her legs like she had some semblance of control. And totally not screaming on the inside.

The antelope's eyes went blank, her face flushing red in embarrassment, "I...this isn't an appropriate matter to discuss during work hours. Just-" Her phone cut her off. Vicky's ears drooped at Deborah's sheer relief when she answered, returning back to business while casually handing the lyrics back. Her mind focused on that crack, that small tiny moment she finally got to see past Deborah's blank slated 'devil face' as Tiffany put it, and see actual interest.

She was gone before the hyena could press further, having walked out on her phone and talking about setting up an emergency meeting. By the time Tiffany had set up her drums, and the twins returned from their bickering, Vicky was laid out on the couch with her face staring at the floor. She didn't want them to see her smiling so hard.

***

Normally Vicky hated covering herself up when going out. Even before being the singer of a rock band, the hyena loved attention. She had a childhood worth of acting out stories that her family loved bringing up at get-togethers. But tonight she needed to be inconspicuous. She deserved her privacy after all, and a session alone in her room wouldn't cut it.

Clad in a dark hoodie, loose pants, a baseball cap, and shades, Vicky prowled through the crowds until she could slip into the proper alleyway. Not the seediest part of town, but dirty enough to scare away uptight mothers while drawing in their curious sons. The kind of place that ran a business Vicky normally didn't partake in unless she was truly desperate. The blush on Deborah's face made her come.

And thankfully, the website said they didn't need to call ahead.

A single neon sign lit up the end of the alleyway. The name, 'Oasis' in showering her in a pink glow. A BDSM club/parlor that offered personal sessions to those interested, with a no-judgment policy so long as rules were followed. It was her first time here, having been recommended by Connie and Conner a few times as one of their preferred clubs.

The scent of leather filled her as she stepped inside. The walls were crimson, the seats were made of black leather, and the table in the waiting room carried a cuff design on its legs. Taking off her shades, Vicky stepped up to the front desk, manned by a calico cat dressed in a blue sweater vest and pink shirt. She blinked, expecting their receptionist to be dressed like the rest of them. Then again, having to wear sexy leather or latex all day behind a desk didn't make that much sense.

"Are you here for an appointment?" The cat asked, mousing her computer mouse around the pad. No doubt closing a window or opening one. Vicky shook her head, leading the cat to frown. "Hmm...well our only sub available for play is currently in an appointed session. We usually have another, but they're sick at the moment. We can schedule you in for tomorrow."

Holding back the urge to sigh and roll her eyes, Vicky shook her head. "I'm not...here for a submissive actually..." She said, blushing. Why was she so nervous? Stereotypes weren't real, surely this cat had seen plenty of dom species play the submissive. But it wasn't the same for her, and from the small shock in the cat's eyes, she could tell that the hyena stereotype burned bright even here.

For just once she'd like to be a submissive without judgment.

"Hmm..." The cat hummed, clicking through her computer, "Do you have a preference?"

"Female."

"I see. Well, the only dom we have on-call with no immediate appointment is Mistress Vivian. Though she's currently on break. Can you wait fifteen minutes?" Vicky nodded, taking the clipboard and pen handed to her, "Great. Fill out the details here. Price is also listed on the bottom, we price on time rather than activities, and given her schedule, the longest you can get is an hour at short notice."

Heart pounding, Vicky snuggled herself into the nearest leather chair and read through the document. The first page was all legal jargon, stating that they weren't liable for any life-threatening damage and that they weren't a prostitution service, with the dominants being on a no-touch rule for customers. She really started paying attention to the services. Bondage, humiliation, electrical play, body worship, the several implements used for corporal and whipping punishments, and even species play. She kept checking boxes, each experience a desire she'd held for so long. All of it couldn't be done in an hour, but that was for future visits. And she'd be coming back, no doubt. It's not like she'd been really going to her AA meetings anyway. She'd been dry for over a month.

The price was more than worth it. Had to keep a place like this running, right? With a nervous smile, she turned the filled out clipboard and her credit card over to the cat. "Ok, everything seems to be in order." She said, handing a key over to the hyena, "Head to room three. There's a closet where you can put your clothes and a small bathroom for freshening up. I'd do a quick little brush just to be safe."

Taking the key and a deep breath, Vicky headed down the black tiled hallway towards the designated room. Stepping past the black door, she found herself inside a small furnished dungeon, with toys lined up across the wall and bondage furniture from crosses to leather padded horses laid out on the floor. Steadying herself with another breath, the hyena began stripping off her clothes. Tossing them aside in the closet hamper. There she stood, naked in the middle of the room with no idea what she should do next. Being her first time, she didn't know how to wait for a dominatrix. Should she stand tall with her arms behind and her chest out, or kneel down and wait? Maybe this was a mistake.

The door creaked open before her mind could gather her thoughts. Peering over her shoulder, she felt a ghostly noose tighten around her neck at the regal lioness stepping in. Straight black hair flowed freely like an egyptian queen, with a black leather corset hugging her tight and showing off those curves. She stood half a foot shorter than the hyena, but her presence made her feel like a giant in Vicky's presence. "Kneel," she ordered with a voice that did not demand obedience but expected it, pointing a single claw to the floor, "Face down. Do not speak unless I ask a question."

Vicky obeyed, holding back the urge to call this dominant by any respectable title. Her eyes followed the lionesses' paws, circling her like a hunter trapping its prey. Every second she remained untouched was an eternity, her mind racing to guess what this woman thought of the pathetic hyena before her.

A thick leather collar clasped around her neck, "You are to refer to me as, Mistress. Is that understood?"

"Y-Yes, Mistress." Vicky stuttered, her heart fluttering at not only the leather but the feeling of someone's hands so close to her and locking it in. Long had she dreamed of this feeling, and even one bought temporarily gave her a euphoric rush.

"Good cunt," her mistress responded, attaching cuffs around each limb as she circled. "Red means stop, yellow means slow down, and green means keep going. Understood?"

"Yes, Mistress."

Cuffs locked, Vicky heard a chair creaked behind her. "Turn around, slave." The lioness ordered, "Turn around and crawl to me." The hyena's tail wagged at the demand, crawling towards the sitting dominatrix and eyeing whatever she could. From the supple breasts, down to the fishnets lining her legs. One of those paws pressed up against her chest, "Stop." Her Mistress ordered, pressing her foot against the yeen's maw, "Clean them." Closing her eyes, Vicky dragged her tongue across the lioness's soles. Foot worship wasn't her fetish, but an order was an order, and that's all she wanted to follow.

"Imagine my surprise at seeing a female hyena client on my schedule." The lioness said with a satisfactory chuckle, "The males I get all the time. It's just hardwired in their DNA to be submissive playthings. Barely even men, really, but they have their uses. Females on the other hand," She smiled out of the corner of Vicky's eye, "They're always so dominant. So alpha. It's annoying really, to see them acting like they're on top. But you? Oh, you know your place. And that makes you one of the rare smart ones."

She knew well enough that if anyone said that around a hyena, they'd be challenged. But not Vicky. No, her pseudo-cock was already dripping at the insults. She was no alpha, no dominant despite what her culture demanded. She belonged on the bottom, an omega amongst the betas.

With a flick of her foot, the lioness reached around the hyena's head and pulled Vicky against her leather-covered crotch. "I bet you just spend every waking moment begging to be put in your place." She cooed, one hand tightly grasping the hyena's dreads. "It must be so hard. Pretending to be anything more than a maggot."

She had no idea. Vicky shivered, breathing in the scent of her mistress's cunt mixed with the leather guarding it. She'd do anything for a taste, nothing was too humiliating if she had a chance to submit. Looping a finger through the D-ring of her collar, the lioness pulled her out, "Open wide." She demanded, smiling with controlling glee as Vicky obeyed. A large glob of saliva dripped from the lioness's mouth against her tongue. "Swallow and thank me, bitch."

She swallowed, shivering in cold delight at the only other taste of the lioness she'd get. "T-thank you, Mistress."

"For..."

She gulped, "For letting this...this hyena bitch taste your lion spit." Her mistress's laugh had her heart fluttering. A soft paw patted her head, fingers scratching around the ears as the lioness cooed soft but humiliating praises. She could feel herself dripping from arousal, no doubt staining the carpet.

"Stand up." She ordered, grabbing Vicky's dreads and pulling the yeen upward. Pressing her up against a wall, she slapped the girl's cheeks and demanded to push her bum out. Something cold and slimy spread across her ass, slowly pushing against her anal ring. "Just relax my little beta. Relax and let the queen inside you."

Her claws pressed against the walls as the first finger broke through. She gasped with the second and soon moaned with the third and the expanding of her ass. Vicky had played with it enough to keep it from being too tight but to see someone else touch it and make use of it, however. Her nips could cut diamonds at this rate.

Something cold pressed against it, "I personally love this tool." Her mistress cooed, shoving what felt like a ball on a rod deep into her ass. She chuckled at the silent gasping from Vicky, "Hook, line, and sinker." The lioness joked, pulling at the hyena's dreads and tying something around them, then connecting tying that rope to the end of the anal hook. Taking both hands, she locked Vicky's wrists behind her, leaving the hyena's face planted against the wall like a common criminal.

As metal clanged with metal, Vicky found herself hanging from the ceiling with her legs supporting her. "Tell me, cunt. How's your gag reflex?" She asked.

Vicky smiled, thankful for those experimental nights with her dildos. "Trained, Mistress."

Opening up a nearby chest, the lioness sorted through toys until she gave a small giggle, "Oh yes, this will do." She said, pulling out a lion-shaped dildo attached to some sort of reverse strap-on. Except it didn't seem designed for the crotch. With the dildo brought to her lips, she opened without hesitation. "Good slut." Her mistress said, slowly pushing it down her throat, "With this, you can imagine a nice strapping lion deep inside you. Like they always should be."

Muscular guys weren't exactly her thing, but it didn't turn Vicky off at the sound of the gag being locked in. Metal clips gripped against her hard nipples, with a chain hanging between them that the lioness playfully pulled to make sure they were secure. Each time a clip fell, she reapplied them tighter, letting the hyena's gagged moans push her on. After all, Vicky didn't even try to say stop.

Robbing her sight with a blindfold, and pushing her legs apart with a bar, Vicky was left open to the mercies of her mistress. Her ears twitched at every little noise, listening for the lioness stepping against the carpet and dragging her fingers across the toys lining the walls. She'd seen the paddles and whips adorning it, and now her fur stood on end as she imagined which lovely instrument of torture would strike her.

"Did you know that the Oasis used to let clients act as floor subs?" The lioness said, the wind breaking as she twirled something in the air, "We'd have them in cages or on display somewhere, open to be used by anyone passing by inside. If we still did, I'd nominate you in a heartbeat. Letting others see," the tail ends of a flogger struck her ass, "a proper hyena in her place."

Thanks to the balled hook in her ass, Vicky couldn't struggle in the onslaught of the flogger. Thanks to the blindfold, she couldn't even see where to brace next, with each strike coming at random. Her ass, tits, sides, stomach, and even what little of her back was exposed all came victim to the leather tool. Her extended pussy throbbed, begging for any touch it didn't deserve.

"Ahh...is this little girlcock horny?" The lioness cooed, tapping it with her flogger's handle. With gusto, Vicky nodded. She needed release and would do anything for it. Her mistress's cold mocking laugh had her slumping in chains, "I could maybe touch it. Give it a little attention. Would you like that, bitch?"

With her nod, came the lionesses knee into her crotch. She reeled, tears in her eyes yet the pain didn't make her want to stop. Not when the lioness laughed so proud. Again she hit, taking breaks in between kicks to flog the hanging hyena. While the lioness did catch her eye, thanks to the blindfold Vicky could imagine someone else beating her. Someone with beautiful blonde hair, magnificent horns, and glasses that oozed order. Every harsh insult the lioness whispered her mind repeated in Deborah's voice. It was fucked and disturbing, but she didn't care. At least not now.

Regrets were for after she left her heaven.

A timer buzzed, and the whipping stopped. With the blindfold removed, Vicky stared back at the lioness. She saw not the cruel and sadistic mistress who tormented her, but a warm smiling girl undoing her bonds with ease. "You know, for a first-timer here you did very well. You experienced?"

"N-No," Vicky stuttered, trying to adjust to the tonal shift. With a pop, her ass became free and she dropped to the floor. Her pussy still dripped, so painfully aroused, but she couldn't finish it here. No matter how much she wished for it.

Handing her a kleenex, the lioness asked "Can you help clean? I got another customer arriving at twenty and I need to disinfect."

It was really over. The hyena had to accept that as she took the kleenex and started scrubbing things down. Best experience she'd had, and it was just another fantasy being played. Guilt climbed up her spine, as well as painful humiliation that only she could inflict.

"So...you ever thought about going pro?" The lioness asked, "I mean, the Oasis is always looking to hire people. You wouldn't be a pro-sub but the wait staff is always looking in the club."

"I don't think my hours would allow for it." Vicky said, knowing that even outside of band practice she couldn't bring herself to work there. She had enough with her current job as is, and that finally got her a decent pay bump. Starting as a waitress at a bdsm club would just be silly...no matter how much she fantasized on it.

Cleaning done, the lioness wished her a safe trip back and a hopeful return. Dressing back up, Vicky considered it. It was expensive, but maybe it could be a trade for drinking. And it was more social than staying in her room pawing at herself, something she was about to spend the next few hours doing to a fantasy about Deborah yet again.

At least this time, she had some physical memories to add with the scene.