2. Chapter 2
Fylis
I tumble into bed, flicking the table lamp off.
Four hours of sleep will be fine. Closing my eyes, I try to force myself to fall asleep.
But of course, I can’t. My body screams at me for fighting my needs.
Other satyrs warned me to find a balance between work and pleasure, legally, of course.
I won’t fuck my students or coworkers, but how am I supposed to date when they are the only people I’m around daily?
I hardly leave campus at a reasonable hour.
There are plenty of clubs in Hollowbridge, I know.
But where do I find the time? It’s always about time. My thoughts berate me again.
My eyes fall upon my door. Desk in view.
My laptop is taunting me from my bag. Forcing my eyes closed, I try to ignore the whirlwind of thoughts.
Look it up. You know you want to. No, you need to.
It’s research. I tell myself. I definitely have time for that.
Ignoring the clock, I get up from the bed, crossing the room to my desk.
Pulling my laptop out, I quickly type in “Whip’s End.
” It’s blocked with a password, damn it.
As I go to close the computer, a notification dings on my phone.
Opening the message from Burgess, it reads: The password is CONSENT.
I roll my eyes at his message. How did he know?
Suspiciously glancing out the window to find all neighboring lights off, I type in the password, and the screen lights up.
Whip’s End. I click through the site’s history section, of course.
It’s strictly research. Hovering over the kinks tab for longer than I care to admit.
Just do it. Click it. Another text startles me as I accidentally click the tab.
“Damnit, Burgess!” I growl. The text reads, “Have fun. ;)” Fucker. I click through the list of kinks, opening the ones that pique my interest. Bondage, dominance, rope play… The list goes on and on. I skip submissive, I like to have control. Be in charge. I always have.
I look up the membership fee and what that entails. I have the money and a clean bill of health, so I could give it a try. Play with a sub a few times a month to satiate my needs. No strings attached, no promises of more, just an appointment here and there. Research.
The idea rolls around in my mind as the sun gleams through the window.
“Shit!” Is it morning already? Slamming my laptop shut, I run into my room, hooves clicking against the floor.
I toss on a fresh sweater, repacking my bag.
Now I have only an hour before classes start.
My day is already a mess, as I silently curse Burgess for distracting me with Whip’s End, while I storm over to the building.
Entering the professors’ lounge in a dishevelled state, Burgess extends his arm out, tea in hand, for me.
“Figured you would need this.”
He smirks, and I nearly explode.
“So Fylis. What did you discover with your late-night research, hmm?”
I sit down, and he mirrors my movements, not letting this go.
“Come on, you have time.”
The word echoes in my head. Time, the thing I never seem to have enough of.
“I obviously looked it up. You know that.” Schooling my features to stay calm and discreet. “I found things of interest and may schedule a visit soon.” I take a sip of my tea to avoid eye contact with the troll so desperate to annoy me.
A small black card with red foil slides across the table as Burgess grins. “I know you struggle with time, so I already took care of that for you. Saturday, nine pm. There’s an introductory night.”
Tea sputters out of my mouth as I cough. He did what?
“And don’t give me any excuses, I know the test is on Monday. You finished grading your papers last night. You have tonight to get your things in order. Plenty of time.”
Time, time, time. He knows what that word does to me.
“I’ll be there for support. Though I’m already a standing member.” Burgess smirks. “You deserve this, Fylis. Some t-,” he pauses, “something for yourself.”
His voice is genuine, laced with care and concern. I open my mouth to retort, but promptly close it. “You’re right. I need something for me.”
He stands, a giant palm landing on my shoulder gently this time. “See you Saturday.”
Class passes by in a flash. The students seemed more lively today.
That, or they have big plans for the weekend that they are excited about.
I end the class a few minutes early, even if it hurts me physically to do so.
I need to make more time for myself. This time, the word feels lighter, less like a heavy blanket ready to smother me.
Gathering my things, I walk out of the classroom and past the lounge.
For the first time in a long time, I’m going straight home, for research, of course. I am a satyr set in my ways after all.