In all honesty, when it comes to new members, Dean Anderson and I are the only ones that really give a damn. We are the ones that have to pick up the pieces. Not them. James would be affected if the submissive was hurt, but that’s it. But then, anyone can fix an injury. I would be the one repairing their mind. That’s the main reason why I don’t want Luke here. The amount of mental damage he could cause is astronomical.
Though I can’t make a diagnosis based on just one session, what little information Louis has told me, has me pegging Luke as having a narcissistic personality disorder and borderline personality disorder, with a potential dash of sociopathic behavior thrown in because why the hell not. And that’s just scratching the surface.
Louis never revealed the things that have happened to Luke, but who knows what trauma lurks in his brain. When will it come to the surface, and when will he snap? I wouldn’t be surprised if his trauma caused him to develop an antisocial personality disorder, making him capable of extreme violence. The main thing that makes me hesitate with this diagnosis is his ability to keep and maintain a job. However, that could have been trained in him. There’s just so much that’s unknown, and that’s what scares me.
In our sessions, Luke talked at length about Ashen Springs and his “pissant half-brother,” but he never mentioned his life being in danger or any past trauma. And the way that Louis alluded to it, it was massive. It’s as if neither of those things crossed his mind. That, or he really didn’t give a damn.
It could be just his way of dealing with the trauma - shoving it so far out of his brain that he just forgets. But that’s not healthy either. One day, it will all come surging up to the surface in a way that he can’t ignore, and that’s when things will get bad.
On the other hand, despite my feelings for Luke, I can’t just throw him out to the wolves. He’d be far safer here where I can keep an eye on him instead of inflicting him onto some unsuspecting person. Allowing him to use our submissives might be just enough to keep his monsters at bay. We have several that can handle extreme forms of BDSM, so there’s bound to be someone who fits.
“I’ll concede on two conditions.” The pain of actually having to give any concession where Luke is concerned stabs me to my core. I’m never wrong, and I never backtrack. Though technically I’m still correct, they’re forcing me to recant. It burns in my gut like acid sliding down my throat. “He has to withstand the initiation. If he cannot hold himself together, he cannot be here with us. He has to have weekly sessions with me. I will not budge on either of these. It’s a take it or leave it compromise.”
Nodding his head, Dean Anderson looks over to the others. “I feel that those terms are agreeable. Any opposed?”
Doctor Bradley raises his hand and levels a grin at me. Of course, he’d be the one. As if I had the time and patience for his buffoonery. Standing, he slides his hands into his pockets and rocks back and forth, a mock frown furrowing his brows. It’s all for show, and I can see right through him. The pompous bastard.
“It’s all well and good, but how do we know his breaking point? Suppose some of the Dominants here go a bit too far. Do we blame Luke? Or do we blame the Dominant?”
“If it’s you you’re worried about, you don’t have to participate. As stated earlier, this isn’t really your thing.”
“Oh, but there’s always a first, is there not? I would love to sink my scalpel into him and see if he bleeds green as the monster you insist he is.”
“You. Will. Not. Mark. Him,” I grind out, my anger rising to the point where I’m worried I won’t be able to rein it in. “You will not mar him in any way. You will only do to him what you’d do to another submissive.”
James studies his nails for a moment. “But you see, since I’m an actual doctor, I do mar my submissives. They enjoy the release the knife brings to them. Just because you’re unable to wield such tools -.”
“Enough!” Dean Anderson stands and points to James’s chair. “Sit, you imbecile. I will not stand by while you two have your pissing contest. You can measure dicks later. This is a serious meeting to discuss a serious issue. If you cannot participate in a mature manner, James, then you are free to leave.”
We all stare at him, and I, for one, am in shock. I’ve never seen John lose his temper like that. This meeting must be more serious than I thought.
“Sorry, James,” Dean Anderson continues, his voice taking on a haggard tone. “That was harsh of me. You are a highly intelligent man. This is just far more important than this vendetta you two seem to have against each other. So much more is at stake here than comparing brainpans.”
Vendetta, as if it is that simple. It’s not that we’ve wounded each other somehow. I don’t hold him in some chamber of my mind, recounting all the hurts he’s done to me. It’s far simpler and more insidious than that. We are both doctors, and we are both highly competitive.
On my end, I feel that he’s just one step above a glorified nurse. He did nothing to stand out in the medical field. Once he was through with general practice, he stayed there. I, on the other hand, pursued a specialized form of study. I deal in matters of the mind where he’s content cleaning up boo-boos.
Granted, to hear it from him, psychiatry is a pseudo-science and one not worthy of attention, but that’s only because he doesn't have the temperament or disposition to do what I do. He’s all bluster and no substance. I exude patience from my very core, where he wants everything instantly.
James sits down in a huff and crosses his arms, looking every inch the petulant child. Let him. It will only add more credence to my words and drown out his.
“If there aren’t any other issues,” I continue, my eyes drifting over the small gathering. “Let’s put it to a vote. Given my stipulations, do we allow Luke Lannister to enter The Society?”
All hands rise, and my stomach flops about for a moment. Dear God. What have I done?