Warnings: light BDSM, which includes spanking, and light verbal humiliation. Consensual, but not exactly safe or sane. Issues of self-harm and alcoholism.

Secretary and the Beast

Chapter 1

Today was the day I left Storybrooke hospital after a 5 month stay in their psychiatric ward. Things were comfortable there, I had a routine. Breakfast at 8, lunch at 12, therapy from 3, dinner at 6, lights out by 10.

Belle French stood on the steps to the old hospital building with her leather suitcase at her feet. The last remnants of the cool spring breeze blew her long hair into her face, and she tried toswallow down the anxiety rising in her chest. She leaned down to pull up the blue knee sock hidden underneath the straight A-line of her brown skirt, and straightened up to hug arms around the dark blue sweater she wore. Summer was coming and it was a clear day, never the less she felt a chill. Belle was ignored by the other people coming to and from the hospital, she was inconspicuous in that way.

Finally she saw the white van pull through the iron gates of the hospital back entrance with its familiar 'Game of Thorns' logo on the side.

A gentle smile pulled at her lips as she picked up her case and the van pulled up in front of her. The door opened to reveal her father, all smiles as he leaned across the seat to wave at her. "Hey Petal!" he greeted her with her childhood name.

"Hi Papa," she smiled at him, hiking up the hem of her skirt so she could climb into van and slam the heavy door behind her. Her small leather case sat perched on her lap.

Her father started driving, and there was an awkward silence as Belle watched the small town go by.

Finally it was her father who broke it. He didn't take his eyes off the road. "So I thought it might be a nice day to have a barbie, like we used to do on the beach back in Australia."

Belle nodded, "That would be nice Papa."

Moe's fingers tightened on the steering wheel. "I invited a few people, made it a welcome home party for you."

Something constricted in Belle's throat, "but..."

"It'll be fine darling, just a few of your old friends and the neighbors. It'll be good for you to see some old friendly faces from school, it's been a while since you've seen them right. It'll keep your mind off things." Moe told her.

Belle opened her mouth to protest, but closed it again. She looked out the side window, watching the people go by on the pavements outside the shop. "It'll be wonderful Papa," she said, her voice lacking any conviction.

Moe didn't seem to notice and gave himself a satisfied nod.

oOo

Belle hadn't seen any of her friends in at least a year, and only then had it been in passing in the streets or the shops, where she felt obligated to have a few lines of awkward conversation. In the 4 years since she had graduated high school nearly everyone had moved on with their lives. Gone to college, found jobs, even a few were married and having children.

Thankfully that left few available in Storybrooke to be invited to the barbeque her father had planned. The small back yard was done up with balloons and bunting strewn around the trees and bushes. Her father was manning the barbeque, dishing out cooked meat while he had a beer in his other hand. He was in his element.

Belle had made the effort to change into an old baby blue party dress, made from cheap satin. It gapped around the bust line and armholes as she had brought it when she was still in high school, but it had long sleeves. She saw Ruby Lucas, who was probably the person she was most familiar with. When they were in high school though they never spoke, they had moved in completely different circles, Ruby was with the rebellious cool girls who liked to skip school and smoke behind the music rooms, which was not a scene Belle was apart of. But since high school Ruby had calmed down somewhat, enough to work in her Granny's diner where Belle would occasionally bump into her. That made it even harder to talk to her now.

Belle ducked around to hide to the side of the porch trying to avoid the gaze of people. It was just paranoia that they were taking glances at her and whispering, she told herself. She concentrated on her paper plate with its rather sad looking burger on it. They weren't talking about her. It was just her imagination, she repeated to herself.

"Hi," a voice far above her said.

Belle snapped her head up. It was Gaston, whom she hadn't seen since high school.

"Hi," she answered back in a small voice. He was ruggedly good looking as she remembered. Again, a person she had shared classes with but had never socialized with. He had been desired by every girl in her grade, but there was no way she was even on his radar. So she wasn't sure why he would be here now.

"Nice party, your Dad invited me," he flashed a handsome smile at her and she realized why every girl fancied him.

"I'm glad you could come," Belle lied. She wished no one had come.

Gaston took a swig from the beer bottle he was holding. "So I was wondering… if some time you'd like to hang out some time."

Belle tried to fight her rising panic, "You mean like a date?"

The tall man grinned at her, "Yeah like a date."

Why on earth would he be inviting her on a date? The answer soon presented itself when her father came lumbering over. "Hey Petal," he greeted, putting his arm around her and giving her a kiss on the cheek that smelt like stale beer. "I'm so glad you got talking to Gaston, one of the few eligible bachelors in Storybrooke."

Belle tried to smile for her father but, it was difficult as she watched the foamy beer spill over onto his hand as he gestured with it. "Papa I thought you had stopped?"

"Oh..." Moe looked at the bottle and handed it to Gaston to hold. "I have." He took her by the shoulders. "Petal, I'm so glad you're home." He said with the intense sincerity only managed by the drunk. "You're home, and you're better. I just can't bear the thought of you doing that to yourself."

"I'm glad to be home too," she told her father and he smiled down at her before taking the bottle back from Gaston.

Moe took another swig, "You've always been my little girl, and you always will be..." He said with a look up to the darkening sky before gripping his head. "I don't feel so good." He announced.

"You should sit down Papa." She told him and helped guide him to a chair, where he started mumbling to himself about the earth spinning and holding his head. He always ended up like this and she just couldn't watch him.

She excused herself from Gaston and slipped around the mingling people, ignoring any looks that followed her as she went inside and stormed up to her room fighting back tears. There was a 'welcome home' banner across the door, and she tore it down before slammed it shut behind her.

The sounds from the garden party filtered up to her from the bedroom window as she sat on the bed, fists clenched so hard her knuckles went white.

Finally, she couldn't stand it anymore and got off her bed to pull up the mattress to reveal a box wrapped in a polka dot scrap of cloth, and a small make up pouch. She laid them on the bed in front of her and carefully untied the larger package to reveal an old storage box she'd had since childhood. It was covered in foil stickers of roses and Disney princesses.

Taking a deep breath she found her resolve and pulled out the instruments of torture she'd collected since she was 11 years old. Razor blades, scalpels, wood carving tools, pins, a lighter, stitch picker, a dart, broken pieces of porcelain, iodine, steri-strips. She laid them all out as was her ritual to decide what she would use today.

She picked up the broken piece of a porcelain doll and ran the broken edge over the sharpening stone a few times to make sure it was sharp enough. She climbed back onto the bed. Her leg bent underneath her and pulled her skirt up to reveal her thigh. She pressed the jagged edge into her flesh, and was about to drag it towards her when some laughter from the party below reminded her of her father.

The tears she had forgotten about came back anew, and she blinked them back as she remembered how proud her father was that she was better.

Belle took the porcelain off from her skin and dumped it back in the box, followed by the rest as quickly as she possibly could. She needed to get it all out of her sight, and she wrapped it up with the cloth and took them to her dresser where she shut them away in a draw.

Belle went back to her bed and let the tears she'd tried to avoid fall as she buried her face in the pillow, knowing no one would miss her at the party.

oOo

Belle needed to grow up. To move on with her life, or at least make steps to show her father she was moving on. So she enrolled in the community collage to take typing classes and it turned out this was something she was good at. She even loved reading the nonsensical texts she had to type up without even listening to the keys. Before long she passed the course with flying colors, and she was an excellent touch typist with an average speed of 80 words-per-minute.

It was the first thing she'd done other than helping out in the back of her father's shop since high school.

It had worked. "I'm so proud of you Petal," her father had said as he drove her home from her evening class as he always did. She looked down at the freshly printed certificate with her typing scores on. "I knew you could do it," he told her. Belle wasn't so sure passing one class was too much to be proud of but, well it was something at least.

Things seemed to be going well until one evening after a shower when she had been making tea in the kitchen. She had been standing there over the kettle waiting for it to boil when she heard a raised voice coming from the living room. Belle crept to the door way, and saw her father talking on the phone.

"I told you I'll get you the money!" He shouted and slammed the phone down. Belle jumped back from the threshold when he pushed over the whole side table where the phone sat.

Belle's heart sank with disappointment when she saw the empty beer bottles on the table, he'd been drinking again. "Papa?" She asked in a quiet voice.

Moe spun around to see her half hiding behind the door way and tried to calm himself down. "Hey Petal," he greeted her with false cheer.

"Who was that?"

"No-one," he said as he sunk down onto the sofa and picked up one of the beer bottles from the coffee table.

"Was that..." She trailed off. It was the shop, they were having money troubles again it would seem. Guilt assailed her as she realized her hospitalization must have been expensive. Not that her father ever discussed it with her.

"I said it was no-one." With that Moe put on the TV to drown out any more attempts to talk to him for the rest of the night.

Belle's lips pressed together hard as she felt the tears building. He would never talk to her, just treated her as a child that never knew better. She left her father to forget his money troubles with drink and picked up the now boiling kettle from the stove. She crept up to her room with it, shutting the door behind herself, not that her father would be coming up to bed tonight anyway. She needed her privacy for what she was about to do.

Sitting on her bed she spread her legs apart and pulled up her long nightie to reveal the inside of her thigh. She never harmed her arms now, not since the incident. But with her long dowdy skirts no one ever saw her legs. No one stared or had questions. Her father didn't cry.

Biting her lip, Belle pressed the metal kettle against her thigh and instead of tears of frustration and loneliness, she was fighting back tears of pain. She could hear the sizzle and pop of burning flesh and had to fight the urge to drop the boiling kettle. But she held it there as the pain took over every fiber of her being, obliterating everything else that made up Belle French.

oOo

The incident that led to my hospitalization happened on a Sunday afternoon. I was washing up after Sunday dinner with my father, and when his back was turned I saw my opportunity. Before I knew it, blood was dripping into the soapy suds of the washing up water. I must have cut too deep. To this day I don't know why. I had done it many times before, but no-one believed that I didn't want to kill myself, that it was only a mistake.

Belle came down the next evening to see her father in the kitchen, putting padlocks onto the kitchen draw where the knifes were kept. She stared at him until he noticed her, and he smiled with slight apology, "Just in case Petal."

She nodded at him, understanding. He didn't trust her and she knew better that he should trust her.

Belle left the kitchen to walk out to the trash cans in the front yard, to retrieve her torture kits from the metal trash can. They were where she had left them. She just wasn't ready to let them go yet. She hugged them to her chest and underneath she noticed the job section of this week's Storybrooke Mirror. She picked it up, and started looking over the ads for vacancies as she walked back to her house.

She was bubbling with excitement by the time she was at her desk. She could help her father with money if he got a job, and she started circling the advertisements for those requiring someone with typing skills.

Belle picked up a hand mirror, and held it so she could see her face as she practiced her interview face. "Thank you for giving me the opportunity to discuss this job position with you. I am a very hard worker, and I'm sure I'll be an excellent addition to your team." She said in her most steady grown up voice. "No, I do not have any references, but I'm sure the Storybrooke municipal planning department would be an excellent place to start my career."

A smile broke across her face, reflected back at her in the mirror. She put the mirror down and scanned the adverts, her eyes being drawn to one in particular.

Wanted: Secretary

for law. Typing mandatory.

contact R. Gold, 2450 Main Street.

"Secretary..." Belle read aloud, and smiled. She liked the sound of that.

oOo

Her father insisted on driving her to her first ever interview and Belle was glad because it was raining. From the road she could see a 'Gold, Attorney at Law'. Underneath it hung a smaller sign that said 'Secretaries: Wanted'.

Umbrella up, she walked the short distance from the parking lot to the main building, clutching her typing certificate to her chest to try and keep it dry. She passed under the many rose arches that covered the path to the main door of the offices, heavy drops of water falling from the leaves above her and pattering the umbrella with an irregular rhythm.

Belle hesitated and turned back to see her father watching her from the van, and he waved her inside with his hands. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door to see the reception area. It would have looked like an antique shop, all polished wood and expensive rugs, if it wasn't for all the files and papers that covered the floor, with upturned chairs and potted plants everywhere. It looked like a war zone more than a waiting room.

There was a middle aged woman at the dark mahogany reception desk throwing things into a cardboard box. She was sobbing loudly. As the last pen was dumped into the box she put a brown envelope into her mouth before picking up her box with her free hands.

"Excuse me I'm here for the..." But Belle was unable to finish before the woman passed by giving her the most accusatory glare possible. The door slamming behind Belle made her jump and she was left alone in the office.

She had half a mind to turn around and walk right back out.

Do the brave thing, and bravery will follow, she told herself.

Careful where she placed her feet, Belle headed towards the open door across the waiting room, and peered around it hoping to find someone left working here. There was a corridor lined with pedestals, each displaying a curio. The walls had a dark green chintzy wall paper which looked like it come from the last century. There was no natural light, but spotlights illuminated the antiques on display.

Belle examined the pedestal closest to her, an ordinary carriage close that ticked steadily. The brass pendulum inside the glass front swished back and forth in time with her heartbeat.

Straightening up again to resume her search she called out, "hello?"

Inside the large attorney's office at the other end of the hallway sat a rather disheveled Robert Gold at his desk, mulling over the events that had lead to the dismissal of yet another secretary. Why did he always do this to himself, ever since... He stared at the photograph of a dark haired woman in his hand, and turned it face down on the desk to avoid her haunting stare. He wasn't a boss, he was a beast.

The light tinkering of the voice from the reception broke him from his self-reflection and made him sit up. "Come in," he called out while hastily straightening his tie and smoothing down his hair, checking himself over in the mirror hidden in the bottom of the draw in his desk.

"Hi." The small female voice form the door way made him sit bolt upright. With forced ease he sat with his fingers knitted together on the desk in front of him.

"Are you Mr. Gold? The lawyer?" She asked.

"Yes," he replied trying to keep his face neutral.

Belle quickly glanced around the office, it continued the Victorian theme of outside, all rich colors and textures. More antiques littered every surface, although the spinning wheel tucked into the corner seemed a bit out of place. Her eyes settled on the lawyer in front of her, he looked incredibly suave in his perfectly cut dark suit. The shocking pink shirt and magenta silk tie contrasted with the base colors of the suit and room boldly.

"I've just come about the secretary job..." Belle became unnerved by the way he was staring at her, and threw her hands up in apology. This was obviously a bad time for him. "I'm sorry I'll just come back another day..." She told him and turned to leave.

"No." The older man called from the desk, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. "Stay."

Belle steeled herself, do the brave thing, she thought and turned back. She strode towards the desk like the confident woman she was pretending to be and held out her crumpled and now wet test scores.

The lawyer stared blankly from the paper to her.

"It said secretary..." She explained, and finally some understanding dawned in his eyes.

"That's right..." He said, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "Are you pregnant?"

Belle's mouth hung open in shock for a moment before she found her voice again. "No."

"Do you intend to get pregnant?" Mr. Gold asked in an undeniably Scottish brogue.

Belle couldn't hold back a giggle anymore. "No..." She had never even had a boyfriend!

Mr. Gold seemed unfazed, and continued his questioning. "Are you married?"

Belle shook her head. "No."

"Do you live in a house or apartment?"

"House, with my father."

Mr. Gold turned away to fiddle with some buttons behind his desk. "Did you ever win an award?"

"Yes." As she replied Gold activated some switch, and behind her in the other corner of the office a miniature garden was revealed. Lit up and misty it contained many rose bushes of exotic varieties she'd never seen before even in her father's shop.

But Mr. Gold's next question made her turn back before she could spend too long looking at the roses. "In what?" he asked.

"Typing."

Mr. Gold regarded her carefully for a moment, before his eyes went down to the paper she still held. "Are those your scores?"

Belle followed his gaze down. She'd forgotten she was still holding her certificate. "Oh yes." She leaned over the desk to smooth the sheet down in front of him.

His eyes flicked down at the paper, "Belle..." he said carefully, "French." He leaned back in the leather chair, picking an old fashioned phone off the cradle and dialed a number. He covered the mouthpiece with his hand. "Tea, milk, two sugars," he told her before turning away to pointedly ignore her.

She watched him in confusion for a minute before it dawned on her. "Oooh..." She said in realization. This was a part of the interview. Not sure what to do with herself, she took her umbrella out with her to try and find the tea making facilities.

As soon as she was out of his office, Mr. Gold ran his hand over the desk to roll a pile of red marker pens from his desk into the waste paper bin. New secretary, new start. He would not allow the Red Pen Beast out. There would not be a repeat of what had happened with the last 9 of his employees.

Belle had found a kitchenette and after a struggle with a water jug where she managed to splash the front of her light blue shirt with water, she brought in a cup of tea holding it carefully.

Mr. Gold had moved to the couch area and sat with his arms over the back and his ankle hooked over his knee. "Belle, I have a part time paralegal here, all you'll need to do is type my letters and answer the phone. We use typewriters here not computers."

She nodded, wishing she had put less water in the pretty blue and white tea cup. She had nearly made it to where Mr. Gold was sitting.

"You'll also need to help me skin the clients who do not pay their fees."

Belle gasped and dropped the cup and saucer onto the floor and looked up at Mr. Gold with wide eyes.

"That was a quip." He told her, sneering with his top lip. "Wasn't serious."

"Oh, right." Belle said in relief and bent down to pick up the cup. She panicked when she saw the neat little indent in the side. "Oh, I'm sorry..." She held it up for the lawyer to see, "it's chipped. But you can barely see it." Her heart sunk thinking she had messed up the interview with her clumsiness.

Mr. Gold looked at her in confusion, "It's just a cup."

Relief flooded through Belle. He didn't seem too angry she's ruined an expensive antique already. "I'll get you another, the kettle's just boiled."

She came back with another cup and managed to get it all the way to the coffee table in front of Mr. Gold without dropping it, as he gestured to take the seat by him. She tried to dry her shirt with paper towel.

"The thing is Belle." He watched her wipe the towel over the wet shirt clinging to her breasts, "you have the best test scores I've ever seen in an applicant." He leaned over to look straight at her, "You're overqualified. I think you'll be bored here."

"That's ok." Belle said quickly.

He tilted his head his curiosity piqued, "You'll be very bored."

"I want to be bored." She told him trying to lift her head high, to show him the sincerity of her words.

Mr. Gold sat back and looked at her, as if he was trying to figure her out. "Belle, you're so..." He let out a deep breath through his nose, "closed up. Like there's a wall. Do you ever loosen up?"

"I don't know." She said with the same sincere tone. She really didn't know.

The phone started ringing and he stood up from the couch, picking up a gold topped cane she hadn't noticed before that had been left resting against the couch. He limped over to the desk, hooking the phone by his two fingers and brought it over to Belle.

He held it in front of her and looked down to meet her clear blue eyes with his rich brown ones. "Next time, less sugar in the tea dearie."

Belle could not contain her grin, she had gotten the job! She was now Mr. R. Gold's secretary!