CHAPTER8
Luke
The quack’s office is just how I remember it, and it still gives me the creeps. Sitting down on the sofa, I stare at him, not allowing my eyes to drift to all the medical oddities he has strewn everywhere. It’s like a museum of the weird. Not much sends chills down my spine, but this room does.
How can he conduct business here? Or does he hope the macabre vestiges of death and decay will get people to open up? A part of me resonates with his collection. The Beauchêne skulls especially. To me, it’s the perfect representation of how I feel inside.
Perhaps that’s why it’s hard for me to look at them. To stare at them, to study them, would be to look at myself and detest what I see. If that’s the reason Shrinky Dink has them, then I applaud his genius. It doesn’t make me want to open up and talk about my past, but it certainly could cause a weaker person to crack.
Drifting from his face, my eyes glance over at the large object near his desk. It’s covered with a thick cloth, concealing both form and substance. On the outside, it looks like a giant birdcage, but there are no sounds of life coming from within. No doubt it’s a taxidermy bird or some similar bullshit.
“Do you wish to see inside?” Quack’s voice startles me, drawing my attention back to him.
“Does it bite?”
For the first time since I’ve seen him, he cracks what seems to be a genuine smile. There’s no malice in his grin or threat of retribution. With another smirk, he walks over and pulls the cloth off, revealing a mass of pillows and blankets. Does someone sleep here? Perhaps it’s for some fancy cat?
“It’s for my submissive. When I first found her, she was traumatized, unable to handle wide-open spaces. Until her, I never had a use for this. It was yet one more oddity, no doubt a cage used at circuses for people of smaller stature. But it fits her perfectly when she’s curled up there, playing on her tablet.”
The amount of love and warmth that exudes from this man is startling. Until now, I never thought him to be capable of anything that resembles humanity, but I guess I just have to find the right button to turn it on.
Turning to me, the smirk is back, but this time, it’s not nearly as inviting as before. “How do you deal with your trauma, Luke? Is there a place you go to hide? Somewhere you’re safe?”
My jaw clenches shut. No way I’ll tell him anything. He’ll just use it against me. I’m so fucking close to getting the happy ending I’m owed, and I want nothing to screw that up.
“Well, it just so happens that I have my own cage to crawl into at home. It’s not nearly as fancy. You know. I’m just a track coach.”
His eyes narrow right before he turns back to the cage to cover it up. “I’m sure now that you’re working for Loftry, that air of poverty you carry around like a second skin will no longer be an issue to you getting what you want? A fancier cage, perhaps?”
I resist the urge to snort. Loftry itself is a gilded cage. Fancy, but still a cage. And I seem to be the only insane person with just enough sanity to see that. These fellow Dominants love to extol the freedoms they have in these walls, but they’re nothing, shallow, a mere figment of the chaos and destruction that could reign without the bullshit rules in place.
“How’s your hand, by the way?”
I glance down at the bandaged fingers and shrug. What’s he looking for me to say? That I’ve had worse? It’s only a flesh wound? That would be too close to giving him the answers he’s really after.
“It’s been better. Seems like I recall a massive amount of pain happening to my fingers, but it’s fine now. Right as rain.”
“You do realize it was personal, correct?”
“Oh yes. You made that abundantly clear when you alluded to that last night.”
“Good. Just as long as we’re on the same page. I was worried you’d forgotten when you dissociated.”
So that’s how he’s going to fish for information this time. “Don’t worry, Quack, I remember everything you said and did.”
His body stiffens for just a moment at my words, and I hide a victorious smile. “Quack is a derogatory term for someone of my stature and education.”
“Oh. Yes. I know that. It’s why I chose to use that term.”
His lips thin as he stares at me, and all I do is smile back, baring my teeth to indicate it’s anything other than friendly. After several minutes, he breaks the silent stalemate with a sigh.
“Why are you here? It’s obvious you don’t want to get anything out of these sessions besides vexing me. What do you want?”
“To vex you. It's as simple as that. You held my membership into The Society in jeopardy, making these meetings a mandatory part of my acceptance. And so, I’m here. The fucking thorn in your side.”
“Doctor Bradley already addressed that, using the council to override me. You don’t have to be here.”
“I know full well that I don’t have to be here, but honestly, just seeing your smug little face get so twisted and scornful and watching you get so bent out of shape is enough to brighten my day right up.”
He remains silent but starts to scribble in his notepad. I give it no mind. What’s he going to say, anyway? Today, Luke was mean to me. He hurt my feelings. He shouldn't be here in my prestigious Lofty. Well, newsflash, Quack, I’m here now, and there’s nothing that will force me out.
With a smirk, I point to his paper. “You should mention sociopathic tendencies, a penchant for violence, and a lover of any orifice. Even yours if you ask me nicely.”
“As unflattering as that offer is, I don’t like you. And I sure as hell wouldn’t sully my body with yours, even if you paid me with the money you don’t have.”
If he means for his words to hurt, they don't. I’ve heard far worse from people who matter to me much more than he does. “In that case, what else will we fill our hour with?” Pausing to look down at my watch, I note the time and look back up at him. “We still have plenty left.”
“We can always talk about your father, Louis.”
“You mean sperm donor, right? Because that man isn’t my father.”
He pauses to look back at his notes before looking at me again. “I guess that would make sense. A real father would have helped you through the initiation and not stood there and watched. Pretty sure he was getting hard too, but I was more focused on your pain than his pleasure.”
It’s all an attempt to hurt me,I mutter through my brain, forcing my body to remain still. He’s just trying to get a rise out of me so he can use it to his advantage. I can’t give in.
“You know. Now that I’m sitting here thinking about it, why was he there? I sure as hell didn’t invite him. Or was there an invite your daddy to initiation that I didn’t know about.”
That gets a chuckle out of him, a rare one, if I’m to guess. “He was meeting with me, doctor to doctor. The fact that you were facing initiation just happened to be a coincidence. If I had to hazard a guess, he just had nothing better to do.”
In all honesty, that made more sense than anything else that was flitting through my brain. For a moment or so, I thought he might have actually given a damn and was there as a sign of solidarity, but the quack’s words have a ring of truth.
Whether or not he got off on watching me struggle, that’s a different matter entirely - one that I will never discuss with Louis. I just don’t need to know that much or form that close of a bond. If he wants to volunteer the information, then that’s different. But Louis has walls around his walls. You’ll never know what he’s thinking until he wants you to.
“I wonder if you were also getting hard last night. Seems to me you took some pleasure in making me suffer. Would that make you either a sadist or psychopath? I’m sure the medical board would love to hear about my findings. See, my sperm donor throws around medical terms too.”
Shrinky Dink’s eyes narrow for a moment, but he doesn’t answer. Interesting. It’s no shock about the sadist part; most of the Dominants here probably fall into that category. But perhaps I landed a blow with the psychopath remark? Then again, it probably boils down to not wanting to associate with me at all, even with a diagnosis.