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 2
From the next day I started working as Mr. R. Gold's secretary. All night I laid in bed looking at the outfit I had chosen to go to work in, a long brown skirt and plain beige shirt. It seemed an appropriate attire to join the working masses. There were hardly any clients that visited, only 3 in my first week, but I really tried my best for Mr. Gold. The day he came into the office to find me sitting on the floor to reorganize his filing system, color coordinated files spread out around me. he nodded approvingly and said "Very good, Belle," before going into his office. The single compliment gave me a tingle of excitement and pleasure, and I realized the self-satisfaction that came with being good at one's job..
When Belle came back from lunch that day, the part-time paralegal had forgotten her eye compact in the toilets, and Belle spent some minutes adding a sparkly light blue to her eyelids. She liked the effect, she wondered if Mr. Gold would notice. She dismissed herself as being silly, and picked up the bag of doughnuts she had picked up for Mr. Gold from Granny's. She had even bumped into Ruby, she had held her head up high and explained she was only on her lunch break. Ruby had commented she looked well.
Knocking on the door, she shyly let herself into Mr. Gold's office. He was at his raised rose bush garden, jacket off revealing the deep purple shirt that matched the tie perfectly. Mr. Gold was always impeccably dressed, he had a neatness to him that was reflected in the way his offices were organized too.
He was leaning over into the bushes with a pair of miniature sheers, as he snipped off the dying flower head of one of the magenta colored roses.
Belle held up the bag of doughnuts and cup of tea she had made for him, "I thought you might like..." He didn't make any acknowledgment of her, so engrossed in tending to his rose garden. She just laid her offerings carefully down on the coffee table.
She was about to turn to leave, when Mr. Gold turned toward her, still brandishing the sheers, "Belle, I seem to have thrown away notes on the Dumpty case, I was wondering if you would-"
But Belle cut him off before he could finish, "-would go through the garbage for them?"
Although his expression remained blank, he stared at her for a moment, his knuckles going white as he squeezed the handles of the sheers closed. He was obviously taken aback that she would suggest going through the trash herself. "Yes, if that's not a bother dear."
"No, not at all Mr. Gold." Belle smiled at him, and practically skipped her way out of the building to the back of the parking lot where the dumpsters were kept. She was only small but she managed to struggle over the side, nearly falling onto the bags of trash. Once she was standing properly, she started pulling open bags and sorting through the papers, tea bags and food wrappings, looking for the Nolan case files.
Inside the office, Mr. Gold limped over to the window picking up the doughnuts on the way, to deposit them in the trash in the corner of the room. He peeked out behind the net curtains, to watch her clumsily climb into the dumpster and start flinging the trash around. Dear god, she had actually done it. No complaining, or sour looks, or resignation. She was beautiful, and she never looked more beautiful out in the hot summer day digging around the trash.
Mr. Gold swallowed hard, and let the net curtain twitch back closed. What was he doing, why was he letting himself do this again. But she was so perfect and obliging and willing... He went to the spinning wheel in the corner of the room, and sat down hastily on the stool. He started pumping the pedal quickly, watching the wheel spin around drawing in the thread from between his fingertips. He must forget the sight of that beautiful young girl, skirt hitched up as she climbed into the trash to do his bidding.
Meanwhile, out in the dumpster, Belle had found the Dumpty case papers, albeit stained with old tea bags, and a candy bar wrapper stuck to it with melted chocolate. She plucked the wrapper off, and a bit more disheveled than usual marched proudly back into Mr. Gold's office.
He was back at his desk, engrossed in his paperwork, and she stood by the side of it with the mucky folder in hand, like an elementary school child waiting for praise from the teacher.
She kept waiting expectantly, hoping this would be another `good job`, or even better one of Mr. Gold's rare smiles that was different to the shark one he gave clients. But when he finally flicked his eyes over to the papers in her hand, he just said "Oh, those," like he had forgotten about them already. "I found another set, I don't need them anymore." He went back to his papers, slowly turning over the page to mark the next with his fountain pen.
"Oh..." Belle tried to contain the disappointment, but at least he had what he needed.
She turned to leave the office but Mr. Gold called her back, "Oh Belle, would you pick up the bits of roving from around the spinning wheel, they do get everywhere. Oh and..." he pushed the tea cup she had left earlier towards her, "...more sugar in the tea next time."
Belle tried to keep her frown of confusion in check, he was her employer after all. "Yes, Mr. Gold." She said and went over to the spinning wheel, to get on her hands and knees to start picking up fluffy white bits of wool with her finger tips. When she had first noticed the spinning wheel, she had thought it another odd antique for decoration. But on closer inspection it was obvious that it was no antique, and the amounts of wool roving and balls of perfectly spun wool that varied daily must mean that Mr. Gold actually spun wool.
"Oh and remember to check behind the chair Belle, the air conditioning does like to blow it about into the most hard to reach places," Mr. Gold reminded her from his desk, not looking up from his work.
Belle nodded, and crawled over to the chair on her hands and knees, picking up every piece of lint she could see. But she came to the bin, and saw her bag of doughnuts inside it. Seeing them discarded stung, and she released a breathy "Oh.." looking back at the desk with Mr. Gold in. She was about to ask him if he didn't like doughnuts, but he was still busy. It didn't matter she told herself, but the wool he had told her to pick up did.
There was still the corner behind the chair, which she could not reach from the floor. She picked herself up and clambered onto the puffy leather chair, one knee on the cushion, and one on the armrest to try and get herself in a position so she could reach around behind it to the floor. There indeed was one large piece of wool, and she stretched to reach, fingertips nearly there.
Suddenly she stopped, she felt eyes on her, and she craned her head around to see Mr. Gold watching her. She followed the direction of his gaze down, to the back of her thigh where her skirt had ridden up to expose 5 strips of cut up band aid, covering where she had cut herself last night when Papa had fallen asleep drunk on the sofa again.
Belle and Mr. Gold locked eyes for a second, before the fear started to run through her like ice.
The ringing of the reception phone broke the spell, and Belle fled to avoid Mr. Gold's stare and any questions that might come. Holding back tears she answered the phone, as a tall smartly dressed woman with dark long hair came in through the front door.
"Where is he?" She demanded.
Belle held up a hand as she picked up the phone to indicate she'd be with her in one second, "Hello, you've reached the office of Mr. R. Gold, Attorney at law..."
The woman didn't seem to care she was on the phone, "Tell him to get out here now. It's Milah."
Belle held up her hand apologetically and tried to listen to what the person on the other end of the line was saying to her, "yes, I'm afraid we're quite happy with our current phone plan..."
The woman crossed her arms and stared Belle down, and with a sneer spat out, "Submissive."
Belle was speechless and her back stiffened, as the sales person jabbered at her through one ear, and a burst of anger came through her and she directed it towards the phone, "look, I don't care how much you can save us on long distance calls!" She slammed the phone down onto the cradle, and tried to put on her polite professional secretary voice, "Please wait a moment."
When she crept into Mr. Gold's office, he was nowhere to be seen, as if he had just disappeared in a puff of smoke. "Mr. Gold?" She called out gently.
There was a tiny creek, and the closet door that housed Mr. Gold's spare ties and shirts opened a crack. "Belle..." called Mr. Gold in a whisper. She moved closer to the other side, she could still not see him and she rested her hand gently onto the closet door. "I'm not in," he said and the door promptly shut again.
More than a little puzzled, but still obliging to her boss, Belle walked back out to the waiting room. "Mr. Gold is not in at this time."
"Oh really now," The woman said disbelieving, "Robert!" she hollered towards the main office, her shout seemed to reverberate throughout the building.
Mr. Gold cringed inside his closet, closing his eyes in the hope that would make her leave quicker.
Just then the phone rang again, and Belle had to go pick it up. "Hello?" She asked, forgetting her telephone spiel with the fierce woman glaring daggers at her.
She realized it didn't matter though when the voice on the line said, "Petal?"
Belle frowned, "Papa? What is it?" It was unheard of for him to call her during the day.
"It's all going wrong..." Her father slurred to her, and she realized he was drunk before lunch and this was not good.
"Are you at the shop? Is Peter there?" Belle asked worried, but that woman was still staring at her. "Wait a minute Papa..." She covered up the mouthpiece, and turned to Milah. "Can I take a message for you?" she asked.
The woman's red lips pursed tighter, and she picked up Mr. Gold's fine wool coat off the coat stand, and threw it to the floor, before treading on it, grinding it against the carpet viciously with her patent leather stilettos. "Tell him to sign the settlement." With that she left, slamming the front door behind her so hard Belle feared it would come off the hinges.
She remembered her father was still on the phone, and she uncovered it to speak back into it. "Papa?" She asked, but there was no answer. "Papa?" She called again the panic rising in her. But he was gone, goodness knows where and drunk.
She slammed the phone down, tears stinging her eyes. Then she picked it up to bash down again and again for good measure. She tried to stop the tears, and with all that happened today, she sat down and opened up the desk draw where she kept her sewing kit.
Holding back her tears she unzipped the sparkly blue case, lining up the iodine, the steri-strips and cuticle scissors on the desk. She pulled up her skirt, finding a smooth patch of flesh, somewhere new to mark. She took the cuticle scissors, and hunched over, to press the sharp point into the soft skin.
But before she could draw the first blood, she felt conscious of where she was, and turned her head towards the door that lead to Mr. Gold's office.
To her horror he was standing there, staring at her through the ajar door. His expression was blank, but there was the unmistakable look of shock in his eyes. He didn't say anything, and Belle didn't want a chance to see the revulsion that was coming.
She straightened up in her chair, and mechanically packed away her kit one by one fighting back her tears, staring straight ahead of herself. She shoved it away in her draw, and with the same robotic motions she pulled some papers off the side of her desk, and started shuffling them with no purpose.
When she allowed herself to check back at the door, Mr. Gold was gone.
oOo
The next few days passed by, and Mr. Gold never said anything to Belle about what he had seen. She held her breath every time he called her into his office, thinking this would be the time he fired her. But every time it was just to tell her to type up a letter, bill a client, or find a case file for him.
She convinced herself that maybe he hadn't seen anything, or he hadn't understood what he saw. Maybe she had gotten away with it.
Her father had returned home by the next day, hung over and brushing off her pleas to talk to her. Everything was fine, and she didn't need to worry herself about him or the business.
He had been cheerful to tell her that Gaston had called, that he had wanted to go out for dinner with her. He looked so pleased when she had called him back, to arrange a time to meet at Granny's diner.
Which here she was now, listening to him talk about his father's landscaping business, and how they were planning to hire some seasonal workers to keep up with the summer workload.
It was all perfectly pleasant, if not dull. Belle managed to nod and smile in the appropriate places as she zoned out.
"...and I've really been thinking about the future, and what I want out of it."
Belle blinked, tried to look interested, "oh?"
"Yeah," Gaston grinned at her from across the booth. "I want marriage and babies."
Belle was careful to keep her smile from faltering, "most people do," she agreed.
"And you Belle? What do you want?"
Adventure, to run away from her life in Storybrooke, "the same."
That seemed to please Gaston, and he reached over to take his hand in his. "I know this seems really forward, especially with what happened to you." He gave her hand a gentle sympathetic squeeze, "but I was really hoping for a relationship with you."
"A relationship?" Belle echoed, and was unable to suppress an embarrassed giggle.
"I mean, we don't need to move quickly, but I really think I can take care of you and your father." Gaston was leaning forward now in his eagerness, waiting for some kind of answer from her.
Belle thought of her father, and how happy he would be. He really liked Gaston, he knew his father through their businesses. Gaston was reliable and sensible, really too good to be considering a shy frumpy girl like herself.
It made sense, there was really no reason to say no. She gave him a smile, and squeezed his hand back, "I think I'd like to try...a relationship," she tested the word out.
Gaston was pleased with the answer, "is it too forward to ask to kiss you Belle?"
She shook her head smiling shyly, unable to meet his eyes as he leaned across the table. Still holding her hand in his he pressed the lips together in a short, innocent and inoffensive kiss.
It was over soon enough, and Belle looked up to meet Gaston's expectant eyes. She gave him a smile. It wasn't terrible, maybe even pleasant. The idea that someone may desire her left her feeling giddy.
Belle hadn't noticed her boss standing by the counter, watching the entire scene unfold. He stoically watched the two young people obviously having a date. Belle was his employee, he shouldn't be feeling this jealous rage building inside of him. The demon wanted to explode out and tear the handsome young man away from her and deliver a beating with his cane right there in the middle of the diner.
"Order's ready, Mr. Gold." Granny's voice interrupted his violent fantasy and he had to tear his eyes away from Belle to take the paper bag and hand over the money to her.
Gold didn't wait for change or look back at the couple, he wasn't sure he could bear it. Instead he leaned heavy on his cane to leave the diner and get into his black Cadillac parked around the corner. He sat there for some time, staring straight ahead out of the windscreen into the darkened street.
He was a weak man, he couldn't fight his inner beast any longer. He reached to the glove box, and opened it, fishing the red marker out of it. He carefully set the pen on the dark leather passenger seat, mind made up. The beast would finally be unleashed onto the beauty.
oOo
The next day, Belle was sitting at her typewriter audio typing up a letter Mr. Gold had dictated. So absorbed by the voice coming through the headphones and rhythmic movements of her fingers over the keys, she nearly jumped out of her skin when a letter was slammed down in front of her.
She removed her headphones, and looked up to see Mr. Gold standing before her. He was in such a state of rage that he looked ready to spit fire.
"What is this Belle?" He demanded.
Belle's mouth moved ineffectively a few times in bewilderment, it was a letter with red rings marked through it..
"There are three typing mistakes in this letter, one of which I believe is a spelling error." Mr. Gold told her gravely.
"Oh." Belle peered at the circled words, they were indeed mistakes.
"This isn't the first time either. I've let it go the first few weeks you were here, to give you some time to adjust to the new job. But this is unacceptable Belle, do you know how this makes me look when I send something out with errors like this? It's sloppy; it makes my work, my entire business look sloppy."
Belle nodded in agreement.
"Type it again." He told her, and stormed back into his office.
Belle immediately retyped the letter, and took it to Mr. Gold. The single sheet laid in front of him, and he read it carefully. His hand picked up the red marker on his desk, there was an audible noise as he uncapped it and circled a word in the document.
Lips twisted in disgust, Mr. Gold picked it up, screwed it up into a tight ball and offered it back to her. "You're wasting my time." The lawyer told her, and resumed his own work.
Belle sat back at her reception desk and she tried to calm herself, being nervous would just cause more mistakes. She really wanted to do this right for Mr. Gold, she wanted to offer a piece of herself to him with every menial task she performed. An idea came to her, and she took out the sewing kit that was still in her desk draw. With the cuticle scissors she cut out a small piece out the back of the hem of her brown corduroy skirt and laid it on the typewriter. Carefully she typed:
A piece of me,
A small sacrifice,
To Mr. R. Gold
Laying her declaration to the side, she started retyping the letter for the 2nd time. she typed it with two fingers checking every key before she pressed it. It took her an hour, but it was perfect. When the client Mr. Gold had been seeing in his office left, Belle carried the immaculate letter carefully through the corridor of curios like it was the dead sea scrolls itself.
Mr. Gold was leaning heavily back in his chair, reading a leather bound law book when she came in. He didn't acknowledge her as she laid the letter on the desk in front of her and waited for his approval.
He continued to ignore her, and she fidgeted until it became clear he wasn't even going to read it this time.
Wordlessly she turned her back to leave the office, and Mr. Gold let his eyes leave the pages of his book. The small square of missing fabric that revealed the back of her knee was enough to make him snap the law book in his hands shut. "Belle, " he stopped her.
The sharp noise made Belle jump, and she turned back to face him. "Yes, Mr. Gold?"
"Quite frankly dearie..." His dark eyes roamed over her, taking in the brown shapeless skirt and stretched good-will cardigan. "You attire is disgusting."
Belle's breath caught in her throat at the criticism.
"You are the first thing my clients see when they come to my office, and the image you present is unacceptable."
Belle nodded, stinging from his words.
"And your hair," Mr. Gold continued, as if every annoyance was pouring out from him now he had started. "You're always playing with it, it's unprofessional. You're either going to have to start wearing a hair net, or stop playing with it."
Belle took a deep breath, stealing herself. "Yes, Mr. Gold."
oOo
That very evening, using some of the money from her first pay check she went shopping for a more professional outfit. She picked out a cream shirt with little black poka-dots on it, that had an extra part to the collar that she could tie into a big floppy bow at her throat. She found a plain black pencil skirt that came to just above her knees, and a pair of smart black court shoes with a heel higher than she'd ever worn before (which wasn't very high). No more socks to work, she brought 5 pairs of nude tights.
She was determined to look like a professional secretary that didn't look out of place Mr. Gold's classy office.
She didn't trust herself to not fiddle with her brown curls, so she brought a hair net decorated with little white purls, and made sure to clip her long bangs to the side so it twisted together in one neat curl that hung down in front of her ear.
When Mr. Gold walked in that morning, he may have given her a cursory glance but voiced neither praise or criticism for her new look.
Belle was sharpening pencils after lunch, careful to get the shavings into the waste paper bin, when Mr. Gold buzzed on the intercom and asked her to join him in the library.
The library was another room off from his office, and was where he kept all his law books with a small round table in the center. It was also a bit of a junk room, with disused pieces of furniture pushed into the corners that could do with a dusting.
Mr. Gold was dictating into his Dictaphone when Belle let herself in, "...an offer of compensation is required from within 3 months of receipt of this letter, or I will be forced to pursue the case in court. Yours Sincerely." He clicked the stop button, and gave Belle a welcoming smile. "Ah, Miss. French. The phone is ringing." He looked at the green telephone on the round table.
Belle looked at it in confusion, it wasn't ringing at all. Maybe she was mad, or Mr. Gold was?
"Brrring!" Mr. Gold suddenly trilled, rolling the Rs in that Scottish accent of his. "Brrrring!" he said again, waving his hand at the phone indicating she should answer it, his movements larger and more flamboyant than she had ever seen before. Usually he was so cool and calculating.
Belle laughed nervously, as she realized what he was doing. She was also relieved that neither of them was mad. She picked up the phone and held it to her ear, "Hello, you have reached the office of Mr. R. Gold..."
Mr. Gold shook his head, getting closer to her and leaning on his cane. "Come on dearie, I'm sure you can get a bigger voice out of that tiny throat of yours."
Belle took a deep breath, and repeated in the loudest most confident voice she could muster, "Hello, you have reached the office of Mr. R. Gold, attorney at law."
Mr. Gold's smile widened, and he clapped his hands together at her success. "There you go, I knew you could do it." He limped over to the lime green velvet sofa, unbuttoning his jacket and took a seat. He patted the space next to him to indicate she should sit there.
"So Belle," he began the pleasant warm smile back on his face, "did you have a date a few nights ago?"
Belle had not been expecting that, and tried to suppress a nervous smile as she answered, "Yes." She couldn't meet his soft gaze.
"Did you have sex?"
Belle erupted into sniggers, head bent over as if that would mask her reaction. "No." The very idea of sex with Gaston seemed so remote. When she finally stole a glance at him, the warm softness to his eyes was still there.
"Are you shy?" Mr. Gold asked, and added, "I'm shy."
Belle gave him an incredulous look, "you're not shy, you're a lawyer!" Mr. Gold just seemed to always ooze confidence.
A small sound of amusement came from Mr. Gold, "Believe me dear, I'm shy. I overcome my shyness, to get things done."
He was so close she could smell the spicy notes of his cologne. "I don't think you're shy," she told him trying to contain her adoration. Mr. Gold was everything opposite of herself.
"Now Belle," he said softly, not letting her eyes leave his this time. "I know as your employer we have a..." he seemed to be searching for the right word, as a lawyer the right word meant the difference between winning and losing a case, "...a prescribed relationship. But I want you to feel that you can talk to me about your problems. You know that right?"
The earlier embarrassment had vanished from Belle, and she was captured by the sincerity and kindness in his voice. "Yes," she whispered.
Mr. Gold's expression seemed to take an edge of sadness when he asked, "So what's with the sewing kit and Band-Aids?"
Belle shrugged, it was obvious what it was anyway.
The kind smile came back to Mr. Gold and he leaned forward, "Would you like some hot chocolate?"
Belle smiled back at him, "ok."
The lawyer leaned over the back of the sofa, and as if by magic produced a large cup and saucer, filled with dark and rich hot chocolate. He offered it to her, "if you'll have it?" he said his head tilting to the side slightly.
Belle smiled back at him as she took the cup and saucer, and took a sip of the hot creamy chocolate. It was the best hot chocolate she had ever tasted in her life, and it relaxed and comforted her.
Mr. Gold seemed to enjoy watching her drink his gift, and he let her take a few more sips before he asked softly, "Why do you cut yourself Belle?"
Belle let the cup and saucer rest on her lap, her eyes down on it. "I don't know," she told him letting her eyes drift back up to his.
"Is it because you feel pain inside, and that's the only way for it to come to the surface, and when you see that pain is it finally evidence that you are really here?" He continued, "And then watching the wound heal, it's comforting, isn't it?"
Mr. Gold had managed to sum up in a few eloquent lines, what 5 months of therapy had never managed to put it's finger on. "I..." Belle stuttered, the words caught in her throat, "that's a way to put it," she nodded in agreement.
"Well Belle, I'm going to tell you something. Are you ready to listen?" She nodded, and he leaned his face a fraction closer to hers. "You will never ever do that to yourself again. You are over that. It's in the past. You will never do that to yourself again." He repeated.
She hung onto every word he said, and let what he was telling her sink in for a few seconds. "Okay," she agreed, and it felt like the easiest decision she'd ever made.
A small smile tugged at Mr. Gold's lips, and there was a genuine warmth in his dark brown eyes, which she could see now were flecked with gold. "Now you know what I want you to do? You're going to finish work early, you will call your father and tell him you do not need to be picked up after work, you're a big girl you can go home by yourself. You're going to go for a walk in the fresh air. You're going to need to find something new to do, because you will never be doing that thing again. Do you understand?"
"Yes," Belle said under the spell of his words, and even then she knew it was true, she would never cut herself again.
I called my father and told him I didn't need a ride that day, or any other day for that matter; I didn't wait for his questions before I hung up. I walked all the way home, taking a short cut through Storybrooke park, and it felt like the first walk of my life. Because Mr. Gold had given me permission to do this, it was as if he was walking right there beside me. I couldn't help but feel a tendril reaching out from Mr. Gold's darker side, a connection we shared because he had discovered something about me.