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Lyrics were never easy. Vicky tapped her pencil with frustration against the wide white table of the boardroom, as though the rapid rhythm of wood and lead might lead to an answer for the last stanza on the page before her. Every song had to tell a story to her, or at least give off an emotion. But this one started as a message, something she wanted to scream but never found the courage to do.

The hyena sighed and put her pencil down. Courage wasn't something she should be low on. One couldn't be a coward if they were singing in front of others. She looked around, eyeing the rest of her band as they waited for their manager to show up with her big announcement. Connie already had her head in a book on musical theory, while her twin brother Conner laid his head across her lap like he was napping. Probably the quietest she'd seen the rats in a long time.

Tiffany kept snickering on and off, typing away at her phone that buzzed back with text messages from her new boyfriend. Vicky met him once, a wimpy little leopard with the most natural-looking pink fur that she swore he had an expert groomer. If the hyena didn't know her friend as well as she did, she would have found it weird with how giddy she was. It certainly didn't match that big buff presence their drummer carried around, but Vicky was the last person to complain about stereotypes. Though in her case, life might be easier if she fit the mold.

Everyone except Conner turned their heads as the door opened. A tall and poised antelope stood in the doorway, her blonde headfur dolled into a small bun and the ceiling light bouncing off her glasses, adding to her own glare. Vicky suppressed the urge to bite her lip as Deborah let the door slam behind them, taking a seat at the end of the table and laying out her folder. "Good morning," She said without giving any of them a look, too focused on the contents of her folders to care. "I thank you all for meeting me this early."

"Well we normally practice this early," Vicky said, suddenly feeling the urge to twist open one of the many bottles of water that stood in the center. Reaching out to grab one with her skinny arms, she asked, "But we're happy to meet when you need us."

"A very loose definition of happy," Conner said, rising up from his sister's lap and stretching his arms, "More accurate to say, 'annoyingly interested' in my personal opinion."

Connie closed her book, "Good thing ya don't speak for the band then, bro." Vicky wrestled against the nervous chuckle climbing up her throat. Just once she'd like one meeting where the band didn't express hostility to their main link into the professional world. It was bad enough with Tiffany's insults, but at least her roommate was too preoccupied with her latest boyfriend to be that bothered.

"Well, it's good that you're interested, even if you're annoyed as well," The antelope said, ignoring Conner's barbwire wrapped words. "Anyways, I have called you all here to tell you that I've gotten you another opening act."

"Oh here we go," Conner groaned, kicking his legs up on the table. If Vicky wanted to, she could see his boxers right under his skirt. She didn't, not after the last time of seeing him in panties during a meeting. "Opening act after opening act. Since when are we gonna get our own tour?"

"Till we sell enough to deem it profitable, bro." Connie leaned back into her cushion, "We're just a punkband after all. There's a dime a dozen of us, and people nowadays can play our music over and over again on Youtube. It's not like people need to buy our shite outside of directly supportin' us."

Deborah nodded, "In this business, getting known is the hardest part. If you want to do an actual tour, then you'll need to prove you can draw in a crowd. Luckily, this next opening act will be giving you all a tight net to catch fans. Provided you can do a few things."

Everyone's ears perked, save for Tiffany who had nothing that could perk, though she heard it all the same. A favor in this town and this business was a dangerous thing, meaning anything from a public appearance to an under the table 'thank you'. Deborah hadn't steered them wrong, and Vicky believed she wouldn't. But as they stared at her, she couldn't help but feel a little tense.

"You'll be opening for Midnight Seizure."

"Who?" Conner asked, only to get bopped on the head by his sister. "Oi, the fuck?"

"How do you not know MS? They're only one of the biggest rockers around for the last decade."

"I don't keep up with popularity." Conner rubbed his head, "Besides, what's that got to do with the favor?"

"Simple. You'll need to attend a party of theirs in two weeks so they can vet you." Deborah straightened herself in her chair, looking out with cold calculating eyes. "Next Saturday to be exact. And I expect you all to be one your best behavior." Her last barb was particularly aimed toward the two rats on the side. Tiffany raised her hand but Deborah read her before she could ask. "Cancel any plans you have that weekend, we need you there. I don't know if you can bring a plus one, I will check but I would very much advise against it. This is not a party to have fun, this is a party to mingle with other higher-ups. Popular musicians have more say than their record labels on who they let open for them, and that means getting liked by other bands that might be present."

Other bands? Vicky blinked, realizing that this wouldn't be just a one on one meeting with Midnight Seizure, but potentially every other famous or high rising band or musician in the industry currently. How...how was she going to dress? Did she need a regular dress or should she wear her usual jeans and vest attire? Let her dreads hang or tie them up? Wait, did they need to know proper etiquette? Were there going to be tiny sausages? Every little detail overloaded her mind as Tiffany huffed and leaned back into her chair.

"So, we gotta play nice with a bunch of old geezers?" Conner scoffed.

Rubbing her temples, the antelope stated, "They're in their late thirties at best."

"Fucking what..."

"Look, it doesn't matter. What matters is that you attend this party and mingle. It's likely that other up and coming bands will be there as well to gain that opening gig, so please don't assume it's fully locked in." That made sense to Vicky. From what she had heard, anyone who opened for MS got a huge bump in their popularity. The higher they went, the more they could turn this into an actual career. Her stomach twisted. Not at the pressure, she'd feel that later, but because she kept thinking so tactically about all of this. That little girl writing songs in her notebook never imagined caring about money or fame.

But money meant she could stop working part-time jobs, and she enjoyed the attention on stage too much to admit she hated fame. Fame...she scribbled down her latest thought, finding inspiration at the last second as Deborah asked, "So, will there be any other questions?"

"Is it formal?" Tiffany asked.

The antelope shook her head, "No, though I'd recommend not wearing only a thong." She eyed the twins with mild frustration as she spoke, both returning her glare with a middle finger. "Just dress as you normally would, but better if possible."

"Define 'better'."

"Like you didn't sleep in it. Anything else?" With no response, Deborah nodded to the band, "Then our meeting is adjourned. Enjoy your session or whatever."

Seizing her moment, Vicky left her chair to follow her manager. "Hey, Deb-"

"Miss Millers, Miss Jaeger."

"Right, right, my apologies Miss." Something about the title made Vicky smile, "A-Anyway, I was wondering if you'd like to stay for a song or two. To get a look at what we're working on. I even have a new song right here for you."

Deborah raised a brow at the notebook. Taking it, she looked it over with a subtle nod as her eyes glued to the page. Maybe this was the moment to ask her. Clearing her throat, the hyena found her hand scratching at her dreads while forming the words. "And even if you can't, I was thinking maybe we could-"

Their manager's phone cut through her question. Deborah answered without hesitation, nodding along with whatever conversation lingered and handing Vicky her notebook back. Vicky watched the antelope's tight ass held behind that business skirt walk-off, hunger lingering inside her along with disappointment.

Defeated, she turned to her bandmates. Tiffany didn't like Deborah, but she offered a look of support for the hyena's most recent attempt. Conner smirked. Connie smacked Conner. Vicky sighed, "Ok, let's practice."

***

"I've never had much confidence in life." Vicky twirled the dark blue token between her fingers, a symbol of her past six months. "I used to not understand why. I have a supportive family. I mean, most people wouldn't support their daughter moving here to start a singing career, it's incredibly irresponsible. But I have another degree and..." She sighed, "Sorry, I'm getting off track."

"No worries, Vicky," The beaver across from her said, "We're all here to support you." She looked around, eyeing the other depressive furs. Some with hands shaking from withdrawal as they drank from the coffee brewed in their meeting place. Others eyeing their own tokens in retrospect.

"Well, when I did figure it out everything became a lot more clear. See, as a lady spotted yeen, people just kind of expect me to be the upfront one. It's like, 'Hey, you got a big forward pushing pussy, so be forward like guys should.' or some shit. There's this stereotype that I'm meant to be strong or jacked, and dominant in bed. And...well I've never really been those things." It hurt to say. Inside she felt like she was betraying her culture. But Vicky knew this wasn't culture she was betraying, just a stupid stereotype. "So, to fit the mold I started pushing myself to be more outgoing, more confident. And I felt better with a little booze. Well, a little at first. Over time I felt I needed to get more and more drunk to better talk and be that ideal 'butch' that people expected. I know butch doesn't even mean dominant, but...well you guys get it, right?" Their stares were mixed at best.

Suppressing the hyena giggle with a deep breath, Vicky continued, "Well, eventually I realized that wasn't doing well for me. Couldn't look myself in the mirror. So I stopped. But recently well..." the cackle escaped her lips, ears furling at her species embarrassing nervous tick, "There's this person. She's on top of her game, really knows how to function on the day to day. I'm just...stricken by her. But I can't get the time of day with her. I mean, what am I supposed to do? Just step up and ask her out?" The laugh was genuine this time, self-depreciative but genuine. "I want to. I just...it's made me get the urge to drink again. Thinking that maybe I'll get the confidence back to ask her out. But if I do that...I don't know how deep I'll fall, and if it works I'll just keep doing it. Drunk me is a better social person after all."

The silence afterward was the end to her shared plight, not sure how to better stop it. Looking around, the rest of the AA members saw her with varying levels of sympathetic looks. Some knew what it was like to have a 'better' person through alcohol, others no doubt assumed she was just making excuses. She could have been, Vicky wasn't strong enough to question it.

"Well, I thank you for sharing your current struggle, Vicky," The beaver running the meeting said. "I'm sure many of us here have had difficulties in our love life thanks to alcohol. We're glad you remained strong and-"

"You should let her go." Vicky turned to a giraffe on the right, face covered in a faint stubble as he shifted in his heavy jacket. "If you need to get drunk to talk to this lady, then it ain't worth it."

"Tom, do you have something you'd like to share?" Their meeting holder asked.

Taking a swig from his cup, the giraffe nodded. "If the little lady will be willing to hear." Vicky nodded, ignoring the comment as Tom spoke up. "I was married for twelve years. I started that marriage with a drunken proposal. I loved that woman with every fiber of my being, but even when married I couldn't talk to her properly or even express myself without a bottle. For the longest time I thought that was fine...until..." He struggled to speak, tears forming in his eyes as he stared blankly at the wall. Another sip from the coffee, almost mimicking how hard he'd drink from the bottle. "If you come at this woman drunk, then it's all you're gonna be whenever you're with her. It don't matter if she tries to get you out of it, you'll convince yourself that it's some sort of goddamn key on the lock over your mouth. If you need it to talk to her, then let her go. It's not worth it."

Vicky didn't know much about Tom. The giraffe hadn't shared much in his short time here. But the look on his tired face skewered her, as though he was staring back at his old tired reflection. Was that the path she was headed down? Tightly clasping her fingers against her cargo pants, the hyena took a deep breath and nodded. He was right, and she'd always known it. She just needed another voice.

The hyena found herself browsing the web of her phone on her walk home. She only lived a couple of blocks from the meeting place, so no need to ask the twins to borrow their van. Even if considered band property, the clunker belonged to those two and she never felt comfortable with taking it often. Tom's words flooded her head, washing away thoughts of Deborah as she looked through some online dating sites.

An advertisement got her attention. Oasis, an S&M club, was holding a play party this weekend and looking for floor subs. Vicky smiled, remembering the offer made on her last visit to the club. Maybe this was what she needed, a nice party to help get her to meet people. Or just to work as a service sub.

With hope, she clicked the ad.

***

"My my, do you look perfect," Mistress Vivian purred, circling the yeen with prideful eyes. Vicky shivered in her reflection, naked save for a leather harness that exposed her assets, the black latex elbow-length gloves, and thigh-highs, and the leather D-ring collar locked around her neck. The standard uniform for floor subs at the party, save for the mask she held in her hands. "Well come now, my subby yeen, put it on. Or do you need my help with it?"

She didn't, but with how her pseudocock twitch it was clear Vicky wanted it. The shorter lion carried a smug smirk, watching the hyena struggle with words before putting a finger at her lips. Maybe there was a genetic factor, but both could feel a rivalry in the room, one that Vicky felt ashamed for submitting to so easily as she handed the latex hood over.

"Good girl," The lioness purred, pointing her claw down. Vicky rested against her knees, giving a ragged giggle as Vivian pulled the mask over her head. The latex and rubber stretched against her skull, clinging like a second skin over her fur. Her head stood firm as the lioness grabbed her dreads and pulled them through the back hole, tying them tightly together with a hairband. "Stand up and give me a twirl, slave."

Her mirror reflected the title perfectly. As a floorsub, Vicky was granted anonymity through her mask as well as the small payment for services. From serving drinks to being a footrest, all were expected of her. Her nipples tightened at the masked yeen staring back at her, braids tied tight as the only indicator of the pathetic subby girl underneath. A quick swat struck her exposed butt. "I said twirl. You can hear me in the mask, can't you?"

A nervous cackle left her lips, "Yes, Mistress Vivian, sorry." Bowing her head in apology, the hyena twirled for the leather dressed lioness before her. Vivian was assigned to be her handler tonight, being the only one who had prior experience with Vicky. She wouldn't have gotten the job at all if not for the recommendation, or so the lioness told her after the interview. But this wasn't about the job, or rather, the volunteer work that she was being compensated for. No, Vicky needed to mingle for another dominant. And despite the wanting eyes of Mistress Vivian, the yeen felt she was more interested in species play and sharing her with others than anything else.

Vicky may have been a sub, but she had limits. Even if she had trouble saying no to them. Being without play for long did make the hyena a little desperate after all.

"Open wide," Vivian ordered, taking a big rubber ballgag to Vicky's maw. Service subs were not permitted to speak unless asked, looking pretty for the guests. Nothing looked more appropriate for a submissive gimp than a gag lodged firmly in their mouths. Buckled tight, she bit down anxiously as the thin chained leash clipped into her collar. With a firm tug, she chuckled and said, "Let's go, girl. Time to show our guests a yeen who knows her place."

Old rock music and snapping leather echoed the halls as her paws walked along the cold cement floor, head hanging down and watching the heels before her click. Purple and velvet lights spilled out before her as the doors opened, revealing the main floor of the Oasis BDSM club. The crimson red-tiled floor stretched across the wide space, with hooks and rings across pillars for subs on display. Cages with gagged or leather-clad dancers hung from the ceiling, and off to the far right, the sounds of whips and paddles echoed across numerous types of bondage furniture.

But the people. She'd never seen so many furs clad in leather or latex. From the tallest dominatrixes with their trunks carrying their drinks to the shortest of vulpine doms with assless chaps and leather vests to collarless submissives looking to mingle or play with strangers. The very sight had her extended pussy twitching, much to her dismay and joy at all the humiliating stares.

A swift tug snapped her back to reality. "Hey, don't forget that you're on the clock, pet." The lioness looked up with a disapproving little glare, "Window shop later. It's time to do your job."

She nodded obediently, performing tasks whenever requested. Drinks, foot massages, an extra pair of hands, etc. Though unlike the other hooded figures who wandered freely when their labor was finished, Vivian kept Vicky on a tight leash. She held drinks as the domme mingled, ungagged only to show proper greetings to another dominant's foot, and, of course, was paraded around by the talkative lioness.

A pair of lions nestled in a leather booth waved Vivian over. She squealed, pulling Vicky through the crowd before racing up to hug one of the large lions. "You made it!" They shared a long and heavy kiss, embracing themselves in a way the loveless hyena could only dream of feeling. She turned her head, hoping to escape it but instead finding something else.

Those spiny antlers stuck out in the crowd, with short professional styled blonde headfur nestled between them. Blue eyes peeked through round glasses that reflected the various lights of the party, and luscious lips pressed up against a martini glass carried by leather gloves. It couldn't be, Vicky blinked to cease her imagination's glamour. But the antelope stayed in her sight, dressed in a leather corset and fishnets, with a cunning smile and wondrous laugh as she conversed with the other guests.

There was no doubt, Deborah was here.

Panic hit her so hard that the gagged giggle rocked her body. Vicky turned her head away the moment her band's manager looked in the hyena's direction. Why was she here? Why was she dressed like that? The answers were obvious, but the knowledge had her face burning under her hood. Deborah was here as a dominant, and she was there as a submissive. Doubts assailed her mind: Even if the antelope was here, Deborah wouldn't be interested in her. She was probably straight, Vicky never did get a full read on her manager's sexuality.

A tugging chain pulled her back into reality, "Excuse me, are you listening?" Vivian scowled up to her. Vicky shook her head, craning her neck in apology. The lion behind the dominatrix snickered.

"She really is trained well," He said.

"Oh she's not trained, honey," Vivian said, resting her hand against the lion's pectorals. He was as buff as Tiffany, if not more, with a mesh shirt that exposed his pierced nipples. Eyeing down his form, Vicky noted the bulging black thong and leather chaps down his legs. All he needed was a harness saying 'STUD' to sell the look. "She's all-natural."

"Really?" He blinked, looking to the hooded yeen then to the petite lioness, "Get out of town. A naturally subby yeen?" Vivian nodded, letting him grab hold of Vicky's face and inspect her like a piece of meat. As humiliating as it was, she had difficulty saying no. It had been too long since she'd gotten a dominant touch, so much that Vicky was afraid that stopping now would ruin her night. He grinned, "Well, that is a lucky find."

"Right? And I know just how much you've wanted to experiment with a yeen." Vivian's claws flicked his barbel piercings, "So, happy early anniversary, dear."

Anniversary? Confusion swept the hyena's face, followed by shock as the lioness gave her mate the leash. He pulled Vicky in closer, hand reaching down to tightly grip her shivering extended cunt. "So, I heard that fucking yeen is a difficult challenge for any guy outside of the species." Grinning lustfully, he pulled down his long, letting his fat and barbed cock flop out. "Ever had lion cock, slave? Ever been claimed by the superior predator?"

"You know," A familiar voice cut in, "I can understand that species play is some people's thing, but sometimes I have to wonder if there's more to it with some people." Vicky and the lion couple turned their heads, seeing Deborah standing next to them. Lazily, she swirled her martini in one hand as she watched the display, carrying a cold expression on her face. The hyena's eyes silently pleaded for help, even as she hoped Deborah didn't recognize her. Though the chance of that was slim.

"Excuse me?" The lion curled a finger around Vicky's leash, staring Deborah down with a smile and vicious eyes. "This club has a rule about not insulting others' kinks."

"Did I insult you?" Deborah feigned sympathy, resting her hand against her chest, "Oh heavens, I do apologize. I was thinking my opinions aloud while watching this girl's body language." Her fingers crawled up inch by inch against the hyena's side, feeling like needles that Vicky's twisted mind desperately craved. "After all, she does seem rather uncomfortable with your imposing visage, oh king of kings."

"That comes naturally," The lion stepped closer, meeting Deborah eye to eye, "After all, in this world, there are alphas, betas, and omegas. It's only fair that others feel weak in the presence of an alpha."

"Are you sure it's not your cologne?" Deborah asked, sniffing the air, "It's mixed in with the musk and sweat of every other dancer I've seen here."

Vicky expected a snarl from the lion. A restrained roar at such an insult. But he chuckled menacingly instead, tilting his head to the other lion at the booth and wrapping an arm around Mistress Vivian, who clung to his chest like a hanger-on. "Why don't you join us to get a better taste? My buddy here would love to enjoy a classic savannah styled orgy."

The second lion stepped behind Deborah. Vicky bit into her gag, she wasn't a fighter but she'd damn well try and stop him from hurting her crush. The antelope smiled with confidence, turning to Vicky and asking, "Would you like to get out of here? Just the two of us?"

"Hey," The lion holding her leash interceded, "I'm talking-"

"Yes, and I'm not listening, dear boy." Deborah patted his cheek with her leather gloved hand, "You see, I'm much more interested in what this lovely hyena has to say. After all, by club rules, anyone may ask of anything amongst fellow party members and staff, and as such, anyone can refuse anything."

"But she's with-"

"You may be holding her leash, but she must sign off on the control. And if the gag and collar are really enough to say she's yours, then she can decline my offer," Deborah said, her head fur shook as she snapped her head over to peer into the hyena's eyes. "So, dear, would you like to come join me?"

She was already nodding before she processed the words. Silent panic took hold as Deborah smiled and slipped her chain from the lion's hold. "That's a good girl," Deborah cooed, walking off with only a soft tug from her manager.

This had to be a dream. Vicky rubbed her gloved hands against her eyes to be sure. It only revealed Deborah staring back in confusion. "Something in your eyes, dear? Gloves are a bitch to use for the more nimble things." It was happening. Deborah, her manager, and crush, held her leash as naturally as she held a clipboard. Her breath quickened, her chest tightened, and her pseudo-cock throbbed. The antelope reached for her gag, but Vicky put her hand up. She needed something to bite.

Deborah shrugged, "Well if that's what you want, I'm not one to argue." Eyeing the dance floor, the antelope pulled the hyena closer and asked, "Would the service gimp like the dance?"

How could she say no? Miss Millers had her by the leash throughout the night, keeping the hyena close but never restricting her. Vicky declined any drinks offered, knowing full well her mind needed to be sober as the antelope led her onto the dance floor. She planted her ass against Vicky's crotch, grinding her leather-covered backside against the yeen's raging pseudo-cock as she directed Vicky's hands to her hips.

Vicky's body went along for the ride, letting Deborah have full control over the way their bodies swayed through the dance floor. "I've heard many rumors of hyena's," She whispered, pulling the leash over her shoulder to force Vicky closer. "Even some saying the women can replace a man. Would you care to prove that?"

If anyone else had asked her that, Vicky's ears would have dropped low. Time and time people expected her to take charge. But Miss Millers, no, Deborah's icy blue eyes shed a different light. This woman knew what she wanted. From the confident grin across her lips, the finger coiling around the chain leash, and the ass grinding away at Vicky's exposed member. Vicky had no doubt in her mind who would be in control should she say yes.

The smile she earned with her nod could have melted the yeen. "Wonderful." Deborah pulled her through the crowd of leather and latex bodies, passed the open play area, and away from the rhythmic club music. Soon the sounds were muffled by the clicks of Deborah's hooves across the concrete floors as they passed door after door. Private rooms used by the pros during business hours, and the lucky guests during party hours.

Slipping a keycard from her corset, she brought a finger to her lips and whispered, "I borrowed from a friend. But let's keep this between us." Learning new things by the minute, Vicky let her handler pull her inside to the private playroom. An X-frame and bondage horse sat across on opposite sides of the room, but Deborah's attention focused on the red velvet sheeted bed in the middle. With four black pillars supporting it, each with hooks and D-rings for whatever attachment a couple desired, it came across as more intimidating than anything else in this room. The fact that Deborah kept the lights dim didn't help.

Springs squeaked as the antelope took her spot. With a single flick of her wrist, Vicky knew to fall to her knees before the splendid goddess before her. Deborah leaned in, unlocking her gag and letting the hyena's dry tongue lap out. "Open," She commanded, locking the hyena's tongue between her index and middle finger. "Red is to stop, yellow is to slow down, and green is...well, I imagine you'll rarely need to say green." Her digits pressed deeper into Vicky's maw, rolling in the saliva dripping down to her tongue. "Beyond those words, I don't want to hear anything coherent from you. Understand?"

With a silent nod, she breathed in as Deborah let go and leaned back. The taste of the antelope's moist pussy already wafted against her tongue, strengthened as her manager free herself of the corset and spread those lower lips. Feeling the collar tighten with the pull of her leash, Vicky leaned in. Tongue out, she started with a slow drag from the bottom to the top, taking special care at the clit before trailing down and spreading the antelope's juices.

Her dominant said nothing. Her shivers and gasps told Vicky all she needed. The chain slacked, letting the hyena kiss down her mistress's thigh. The brief pauses between eating her out only pushing the pleasure out longer. She knew she could make Deborah cum, she'd eaten out enough girls to get the basics. But she wanted this to be special, to prove she was the best little cuntlicker the antelope had ever felt.

Deborah's tight grip helped. Wrapping around her bound dreadlocks, her manager kept the yeen close with both hands. Her pseudo-cock throbbed, dripping wet at the forceful nature. While one hand spread her mistress's cunt open to dig her tongue deeper, the only slowly fingered her own. Circling the edge before finally pushing a digit inside. The dom's pleasure came first, but Vicky couldn't help it. She had yet to be trained.

"That's enough," Deborah said, pulling Vicky off of her. The hyena wasn't sure if her mask hid her confused frown, but the bemused smirk set her heart ablaze. Crawling further into the bed, the antelope led her slave atop its velvet red sheets. Her warm fingers reached down, gripping the yeen's raging extended cunt and squeezing softly. "Are you ready to prove that rumor?" She whispered.

So many times she'd been asked something similar. But now, and only now, did Vicky want to follow through. There was no expectation to control, to be dominant in bed. She nodded, glad to be a living dildo for her unknowing crush. "Good girl," She whispered, her soft voice increasing the yeen's rigidity as Deborah lined her pseudo-cock against her lips. "Push it in, nice and slow."

The warm embrace of her pussy was a heaven like no other. No responsibility to be in control, only the requirement of pleasing, this is what she wanted. Deborah moaned with every inch, her grip on the leash tighter as their bodies closed in. The shock of reality hit Vicky: She was inside her manager, the closest thing she had to a boss, without the other even knowing. To Miss Millers, she was a random club member, a stranger ready to fuck her.

"Well?" Deborah's legs locked around her waist, "Get thrusting."

Vicky complied. Pulling out and pushing back into her unrequited crush. Maybe this was for the best? One fuck to help her forget. But it wasn't the feel of her pussy that brought Vicky her high, nor the very taste of it. She'd experienced that enough over the years. The control and domination, what she dreamed of, had become more addictive than any other drink.

Every thrust was met with a pull and a squeeze. Every gasp met with her own. The bed squeaked, Deborah panting out compliments and commands. Nearing the edge of pleasure, Vicky cried out, "I'm close, Mistress!"

"S-So am..." Deborah stopped herself midway, mouth hanging agape as blue eyes stared into the hyena's. "Can...can you repeat that?" She asked.

While the collar hung loose, her throat tightened all the same. "I'm close..." Vicky muttered. Shock traveled across Deborah's face. She reached for the hood and pulled it away before Vicky could stop her. Free from the confines of leather and latex, the hyena felt her face flush red under her fur as the antelope looked up.

"Miss Jaeger?" The antelope uttered, her face burning red.

"H-Hey, Debby..." Vicky tried to smile despite how mortified they both were, "Fancy meeting you here."