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The alarm waking her up would have been a blessing. Just one day where Deborah could wake up on schedule, get up to have some instant coffee, a shower, and breakfast, before starting the workday. But no. Instead, she had to wake up to the sound of her cell phone ringing on the drawer next to her bed. Any sane person would have put it on vibrate or over on the other side of the room, to gain some peace and privacy.

Any sane person would have been fired by now.

With a yawn, the antelope reached for her phone to see who was calling. Silently, she prayed it was a robocall or her parents, someone she could hang up on. Seeing the name, 'Mr. Halby,' had her sighing, swiping the phone open and bringing it to her ear. "Good morning, sir."

"How could you let this happen?" He demanded, the rhino's cigar-smoking voice pounding at her mind.

Rolling out of bed, she flipped open her computer to find out what exactly he was talking about. "I apologize, sir. It's a little early so I'm not quite sure what you mean."

"Check the band's official Twitter account. The damn dite said something stupid."

Ignoring her boss's casual sexism, Deborah loaded up the site and pulled up her glasses. There at the top post was a comment by the official RockJaws Twitter, with the drummer, one Tiffany Star, calling out a political candidate for their argument against a supreme court ruling. Her morning headache grew more painful with every word. "I apologize, sir. I wasn't aware this had happened."

"And why's that?"

She checked the time of the post, "Because I had been asleep two hours before this went out. I can't monitor things while asleep."

"Don't be smart with me. Remember who signs your paychecks."

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir." She grumbled, standing up to stretch her back and grimace at the sheer audacity of her employer. How was she supposed to stop anyone from using that account? It was built by the band members before they signed on, and they requested full control over it. They wouldn't have allowed the company access to it otherwise. Thinking it over, she smiled as a new idea formed, "Sir, how does the company officially feel about that supreme court choice?"

"Officially, Wild Records supports the inclusion of various beliefs and identities, so we have to support it. But you and I both know that's vague bullshit to keep us likable to fans of our artists. Unofficially, I don't give a fuck about what a dite does with her cock, but I'm getting a bunch of bad press about this political argument."

"Well, why don't we use that to our advantage?" She suggested, "RockJaws are a punk rock band after all. Punk is very anti-authoritarian, and you don't get more authoritarian than trying to force beliefs on people who aren't old enough to make choices."

"It works both ways, but go on." Her boss said.

Ignoring the needless whataboutism, she continued, "Well, Miss Star has labeled herself as a hermaphrodite's rights activist, and I believe many of her fans support her. So we just say we support her stance."

"Except then we're getting political."

"Music is political, sir."

"No, 'music' is a bunch of noise that goes on repeat and can be sold to make people like you or me a comfortable living." Her boss explained as she casually eyed her small apartment. He did have a point about the money since she could afford to live here without a roommate. "Still, I'll pass along your idea to some analysts to build a strategy. You gotta talk with that shark though. Keep her in line."

That was the order she dreaded. "I...I'll talk to her, sir." She said, knowing full well she'd need something for the extra headaches today. "She'll be smart enough to see to reason. I'll make a meeting before their morning practice today." Which, if she had the time right, was in four hours. Thankfully, being the health nut the shark was, Tiffany would be up to actually answer the call. The antelope shook her head. This was something that had to be done in person, where her client couldn't just hang up on her.

"See that you do. Keep those dumbass newbies in line. They don't get to talk politics without consequences until they've sold enough to hit platinum. Then the masses think they can do no wrong."

Hanging up, Deborah sighed and fell back into bed. Not that she could sleep, her eyes were painfully open thanks to the fresh hell of news. Just another day starting at nearly four in the morning.

"Thank god for instant coffee."

***

"I'm not apologizing."

Deborah held her breath, restraining the frustrated sigh she wanted to cast out at the muscle-bound sharkgirl sitting across the room. In this line of work, she had to deal with several 'freaks' as her boss put it. Talented individuals with a unique style that had them lost in a fantasy. From the gold chain and tattooed cover rappers, divas with glitter in their hair, and, of course, the rockstars who rebelled against establishment conformity by dressing all the same. Often the antelope wondered if those anti-conformists saw the irony in their actions.

Tiffany might have. If she did, Deborah had a feeling the shark didn't care.

"I'm not asking you to apologize." She said, sifting through her phone more to look busy than engage. Neither of them wanted to talk with the other, and if she had the clout for an assistant she'd be delegating them to this. "I'm just suggesting that you inform me of your opinion on certain things before you post."

"It's not your profile."

"It belongs to the band. And the band is in a contract with Wild Records. So anything you say on it is taken as a stance of Wild Records."

"Of course Satan supports that jackass," She chuckled, her mohawk bobbing as she stepped up and eyed the antelope down.

"My political leanings do not have any merit to this discussion." Deborah glared up to Tiffany's amber gaze. This annoying brat dared try to make this personal. She'd seen her type before, the kind utterly convinced that anyone in a suit had no soul. Deborah wanted to lash out, to tell this stupid brat to sit down and understand business. But being rude could cost the antelope her job, and she would be damned if she let that happen. "I did some research on the discussion though. He's arguing on religious freedom for people to alter their children at birth."

"Most religions aren't very kind to herms. Modern interpretations or otherwise."

"I am aware. But the courts as are would rule in your favor, as they already allow religious freedoms to justify penile circumcision, but nothing beyond that. So before you make a comment saying, and I quote, 'I hope your kids are lucky enough to grow the empathy you lack, but I doubt it.' Maybe talk with us? This can negatively impact your sales, and if you can't make sales then we have no reason to keep your contract. And I'm sure you'd hate losing this platform."

The shark's brow furrowed, but Deborah could tell she was thinking. She still didn't react, keeping a neutral face to hide the smile behind her lips. Any small victory towards the shark was something to celebrate. Tiffany sighed, "I'll take a break from Twitter, for now."

"Excellent." Deborah said, checking her phone. Blinking at the time, she looked around the room. The only person beyond her and Tiffany was the band's lead singer, a hyena named Vicky who kept trying to hide her stares whenever Deborah was with them. "Where are Conner and Connie?" Both girls shrugged. "Don't they know we had a meeting this morning?"

"To be fair, you sent out the group text early." Vicky said.

"We have already passed your practice time. They should be-"

The door behind her pushed open. Turning around, Deborah was greeted by the sight of two rats with bloodshot eyes, yawning mouths, and ragged fur. They stepped past her like zombies, with Connie slumping down on the couch, and Conner flopping atop her lap. Deborah turned away when his skirt flipped open, preferring not to deal with someone else's privates this early.

"Sorry we're late." Connie said, her Aussie accent noticeably less thick than usual, "We had a rough-"

Conner raised his hand, "Wild, sis, we had a wild night."

"They're the same thing, ya cunt."

"Feck off."

Rolling her eyes, the rat rested her head against the cushion, "We picked up a cute sheila from one of the clubs last night while crawling through the joints. She had a nice strain of weed so we-"

Deborah held her hand up, "Please do not discuss drugs in my presence."

Everyone looked at her with a raised brow, "You know weed is legal here, right?"

She blinked, blushing that she forgot the law changes. "Sorry, just an old habit. But if you did anything illegal I'd prefer not to hear it."

"But that shite's half the fun," Conner complained, earning a swift spank from his sister. Deborah shuddered, still not growing used to the antics of those siblings. The antelope swore that if they weren't rockstars, they'd be dealers of some kind. "Anyway, what'd we miss?"

"Satan here wants us to consult her before we post stuff to the Twitter account," Tiffany said, pointing a thumb over to their manager, "So no posting anything when high or drunk."

"I haven't done that in months." Conner said.

"Cause I deleted the app off your phone," Connie stated, "Just like I did with mine. Social Media is toxic anyway."

The stars must be aligned since Deborah nodded in agreement, "It's a necessary evil in this business. I'd much prefer to hire an actual social media manager one day. If only so I don't lose sleep over it."

"You're looking great otherwise." Vicky said. Deborah ignored her, casually dismissing the giggle of her bandmates. The antelope wasn't sure why they all teased the hyena for her compliments, but she stopped trying to understand the thought process of rebels long ago.

"Anyway, now that that's settled, I believe you all have practice to attend to?" Deborah turned to take her leave, "I wish you all luck in today's endeavor."

"You could stay," Vicky said. Deborah turned, seeing the hyena's head sink into her shoulders, "I mean..." she twiddled her fingers, "Like...it'd be nice to have an outside opinion during practice."

"If I had the freetime and no headache, I might take you up on that offer," She said, more to be polite than anything else. In truth, Deborah would rather catch up on her sleep than be rattled further by the harsh strings and rapid beats of their instruments. "Besides, you're all just the first group I have to make happy today."

Tiffany snerked, crossing her arms, "I'm not happy."

"Really? I figured the devil leaving would be euphoric for you." Deborah said with the tiniest smirk she could give.

***

Her hooves clacked against the pavement as Deborah stepped through the alleyway. The sun was still up, but the antelope knew she'd be heading to sleep in only a few hours. With her schedule, she often had light dinners and early bedtimes to compensate for the insanity she had to deal with. After meeting with the RockJaws, she had meetings with her boss, discussions with coworkers and next steps, and a lot of emails she had to sift through.

She didn't so much hate her job as she just became indifferent to it. Deborah, like a lot of young fools, came to the city hoping to make it big. Unlike them, she had no desire for the spotlight, seeing true success and safety behind the stage and in the boardroom. While she wasn't exactly wrong, it had proven more stressful than she'd like. But she found her ways of dealing with it, even if it cost a little extra as she stepped past the neon sign of 'Oasis', the premiere BDSM club with professional tops and bottoms.

Opening the door, the comforting scent of leather filled her nostrils. She smiled, soaking in the scent and the ideas it brought as she reached the front desk, where a familiar calico cat in a sweater was waiting. "Good Afternoon, Miss Millers. Long day?"

"How can you tell?" She asked, curling a finger through her hair. Was her stress that obvious?

The cat smiled, "Well you're smiling more than usual when you come in. I take it you've been looking forward to your session more than usual."

"Oh, Candy," Deborah chuckled, "So observant for the repeat customers."

"I have to. Being friendly is more likely to bring people back."

"Yes, but you do it so well that I figure people actually assume you care." She teased. Deborah knew the game, putting on the mask to keep other people happy. The antelope wasn't exactly sure if Candy did the same, but she couldn't see why not. Practically everyone in this town involved in the people-pleasing business did.

The cat softly giggled and handed her a clipboard, "Well, I try my best. Anyway, we'll need your updated information. Once you're ready in your room, we'll contact Thomas and get you started."

"Thomas?" Deborah asked with a sly grin and taking the clipboard, "I know I was ok with a surprise, but why Thomas? Trying to tease a popular client with a cock they can't have."

"He was the only sub available for your schedule this time. We don't normally have sessions this early."

She nodded, filling out her clipboard with all the necessary information as she took her seat. The process took a little longer than she intended, her mind too focused on her professional submissive. Thomas was a wild dog, a cute pup who she imagined spent a lot of his freetime at the beach surfing and flirting with everyone that came his way. Not too muscular, but not too femmy, with hair begging to be pulled. And then there was that monster between his legs. If she owned a boy like that, she'd keep him locked so she could have him all to herself.

Finishing her paperwork, the antelope stepped with confidence down the hall to her room, twirling the keys in one hand. Just one of the many little backrooms the club had for private sessions. Each filled with furniture over a hardwood floor with a few carpets for a submissive's comfort, and toys lining the walls from striking implements to gags. She brazenly ran her finger across one of the hardwood paddles, circling the holes cut in for maximum efficiency of speed and power. Deborah picked it up, smiling at its heft in her hands as she swung it through the air, listening to the wind cut against those holes.

Though lacking her own attire, Oasis did carry some spare outfits to help with the mood. Even with a confirmed schedule, Deborah preferred not to waste time putting on a corset, preferring a thin black long and black leather guards for her shins. A pity she couldn't wear boots like many other mammals, but her type had made due. Taking a seat across the black throne with her legs crossed, she pressed a button and waited for the knock.

It came quickly. Three knocks against her door. Kicking off from her seat, she reached the door and opened it delicately to her professional submissive. Thomas stood tall at the door, an inch above her head but still under her antlers. The African wild dog held his arms behind him and puffed out his chest, letting his pecs carry her gaze. If Deborah's father ever saw such a man, he'd claim he was a no-good hippie. But then again, he felt that way about her city. And he'd certainly feel uncomfortable around the bulge in the dog's jockstrap.

"Permission to enter, Mistress?" He asked, his voice sending her heart fluttering for a moment. He spoke with a tone between hesitance and confidence, the kind of pet who knew not to overstep. She nodded, stepping aside and pointing to the rug across from her chair. She firmly gripped his ass as he passed, digging her fingers into that firm cushion. Deborah couldn't wait to see it jiggle.

Taking a pair of cuffs from the wall, she locked his hands behind him and pushed his head down, "You take such good care of your body," She whispered, dragging a finger down his back and curling it through his fur, "Like a temple, only to be desecrated by strangers."

He smiled, "It's what the customers want, Mistress."

"Did I say you could speak?" She asked, hooking a finger under his collar. He shook his head, "And yet you did. We're off to a bad start." Deborah smiled, gently tapping his cheek, "Get on the horse, you bad boy."

She held his bindings as he stood. He didn't need her help to stand, or for balance, but she enjoyed the power gained from holding him. That little rush, growing stronger as he bent down over the spanking horse. Taking some nylon rope, she tied his tail to his collar, forcing it up to get a firm look at the surfer's ass.

"I want you to apologize after every hit." She ordered, dragging the wooden paddle across his buttcheeks. With a nod, she pulled back, biting her lip to hold back her smile and tasting the copper taste of blood as she swung down.

"I'm sorry for speaking, Mistress." He uttered, moaning with the hit. Deborah watched his ass twitch at the strike. She struck again, and again, his little whines and apologies music to her ears as those cheeks turned nice and red. Deborah stopped. Grabbing her nipples, she toyed and teased them, imagining his tongue or fingernails bracing against them upon order.

But this place had limits. So many limits.

"Good boy. Get up." She ordered, grabbing him by the collar to get him standing. Hugging him tight, she dragged her fingers across his chest. Peering down, she saw that delicious morsel straining against his jockstrap. "Excited, aren't we?" Deborah teased, pressing a finger against his cockhead with only the fabric between them, "Whoever gets this bone is lucky."

"Yes, Mistress." He gasped, straining as her hand rubbed up and down against the fabric-covered cock. She wanted it. Far too long had she gone without an actual fuck. Too many evenings spent with her vibrator and a dildo, not the warm meat between the legs of another. Shaking her head, she pushed him back to the carpet and took her seat before him.

"It's time we made proper use of your mouth," the antelope said. Pressing her hoof against his chest, she smiled and ordered, "Clean it." With a meek and subservient smile, the dog draped his tongue across her hoof and leather booties. Slow and sensual, he dragged it on, and Deborah couldn't help but lean her head back and imagine all she'd done to deserve this. From her impatient jackass of a boss, yelling like she was every fault of that ignorant punk bad, to the very punks themselves. The rats who kept disregarding schedules, the shark who always pushed the higher moral ground, and the hyena who...well she didn't have an issue with Vicky.

They appeared in her mind's eye. Pushing aside her underwear, the antelope brushed her finger across her pussy before pushing into it. Her fat rhino standing to the far wall, hood over his face, and found all over with electrodes in his cock cage, mumbling in pain. The twins were beside her, arms bound behind and mouths fixed with tray holding gags. One carrying a wine bottle, and the other a glass.

Opening her eyes back to reality, she pushed her other hoof to Thomas, "Now this." She demanded, taking her first hoof down to his jockstrap and deftly pulling it loose, letting his cock bounce out. Dripping with pre, she could imagine him hesitating at the edge of her cunt. Waiting patiently for her order to plunge into her. Fuck her until she'd cum without finishing before her like so many previous lovers. Maybe all she needed was a personal pet she could keep home and locked? She shook her head, not wanting her arousal to get the better of her.

Pressing her hoof down against his cock, she smiled and imagined Vicky kneeling before her. Out of the band, the hyena was the only one that returned to her fantasies. That butchy dreadlocked girl with the fiery tips, on the ground with her face pressed against her cunt. Imagining a string around her finger, she pulled, leading the girl by her septum piercing to stare up at her with wanting eyes.

The timer echoed before she could pass that pleasured barrier. With a frustrated sigh, Deborah relieved the pressure off of Thomas's sack and slumped into her chair, "Damn it all."

"Was I lacking somewhere?" He asked, standing up and already free from his cuffs. It did ruin a little of the fun knowing he could get out of those bindings at any time, but Oasis took a lot of risks even offering professional submissives. Of course, they needed some special skills.

"No, Thomas. Like always you were wonderful. It's just...ugh," She slumped further down the chair, her ass nearly falling off, "I'm just tired, mentally tired. I can't believe only an hour has passed."

He smiled, handing her a kleenex, "I'm surprised you don't go for two or more hours." Thomas said, "If it's out of your price range, you could talk to Sandy. I think we're offering discounts for club members in the near future."

"Even so, it's an expensive pleasure," Deborah grabbed the kleenex and started wiping down her chair and the items used. A common courtesy for any customer at Oasis was to take care of the equipment used. Whether a sub or a dom, cleanup help was requested. "Besides, even if I did have the money to waste on extended sessions every other week, I simply do not have the time. I have some calls to make when I get home, plus making myself dinner and then going to sleep."

"You're still working after this?"

"I don't get to punch out, darling." She said, tossing the kleenex aside, "I wish I could, but I'm dealing with brats both above and below me. It's amazing if I can get any sleep. Or..." She blushed, remembering how she just toyed with herself, "Sorry, I suppose that's not very appropriate."

The dog laughed, "So long as it's not intercourse, with the exception of pegging, it's fine. Wouldn't be the first time someone has masturbated in front of me. Sometimes I'd have to take showers to deal with the spunk."

"That can't be pleasant."

He shrugged, "It pays the bills, and I'm having fun."

While her expenses were mostly cared for, Deborah couldn't relate to the fun part. Putting her own clothes back on and bidding Thomas goodbye, the antelope headed home tired, aroused, and hungry. Not wanting to cook, she grabbed from her emergency supply of instant ramen and decided, probably against her best judgement, to let her phone ring outside of any number that wasn't her boss.

Turning the TV on to drown out the silence in her apartment, Deborah thought back to her fantasy with the band members. Specifically, with Vicky. It'd been a while since she'd had fantasies about women, and Vicky wasn't exactly her type. It had to be a revenge thing, why else would she imagine that skinny punk of a yeen between her legs.

"I think I'll ask for a woman next time." She said to herself, taking that forkful of noodles into her mouth.