The next day I didn't bring my cuticle scissors or iodine, but I did make another typing mistake.

From over her shoulder, Mr. Gold slammed down the letter with it's red mark in front of Belle. He was leaning so close to her, his hot breath whispered over her neck as he growled out, "you just have one thing to do Miss. French, can't you do anything right?" Belle couldn't see him, but he sounded livid.

Belle opened her mouth, unable to find the words, and she heard him hiss and pull away in disgust.

"I'm..sorry!" Belle tried to apologize.

"Don't apologize to me!" Mr. Gold snapped back, and he paced back and forth like a wild animal before he stopped to fix her with a hard stare. "Just what goes on in that tiny head of yours?"

Belle didn't have any excuses for another typo, and she turned away from the intense accusation in his dark brown eyes. There was a fire in there she felt wanted to consume her.

Mr. Gold let go of a sound of disgust, and turned on his cane to head back to his office. But after one step he seemed to have a change of mind, and stopped looking at the floor thinking what to do. He looked conflicted, as if he was fighting something within himself.

Was this the moment he fired her? Belle wondered. She had to remember to let out a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding.

Pushing back the long brown hair from his face, Mr. Gold pointed at her, and then at the paper in front of her. "Bring that to my office," he told her, and limped out of the reception area.

Belle took a few minutes to prepare herself, and she picked up the letter in both hands. The walk to his office felt longer than usual, but she didn't feel scared. She felt like things had taken another turn, but whatever it was she trusted him implicitly. She wanted to see every new hidden side to Mr. Gold.

Mr. Gold was waiting for her leaning on his cane, and he raised his chin, "put the letter on my desk."

Silently, Belle did as she was told, careful not to make any sound on the plush carpet. Her back to him, he told her, "Now I want you to bend over and put your elbows on the desk, and read it back to me."

Belle didn't dare look behind, she didn't understand what he was requesting, "Why..?"

But Mr. Gold cut her off, "Don't talk, just do it."

Swallowing, Belle leaned over onto her elbows, propping herself over the letter. The position made her arch her back and her buttocks jutted out in the air, the split in the front of the skirt gapping open at her thigh. She heard the muffled sound of Mr. Gold coming up behind her and she fixed her eyes on the typed letter. "Dear Mr S Pigford and Mr. T. Pigford..." She began, and settled in to read the letter, her shoulders relaxing slightly. "In reference to you and your brother's inquiry into a possible lawsuit against Strong Sticks Construction Co..."

SMACK.

Belle felt her entire body jolt with the force of the slap Mr. Gold had just landed on her ass. Mouth open in shock and surprise she looked over her shoulder at him. He looked down at her impassively. "Keep reading," he commanded her.

It crossed her mind that Belle could stop this, she could straighten up and walk out of this office right this moment, like any normal person would. But she didn't want this to stop, so she continued reading, "...Upon reviewing the evidence and documentation you provided me..." SMACK, another hard smack to her ass that seemed to reverberate around the room. "...and my own research into relevant construction and contract law..." SMACK, this time the slap forced the air out of her lungs, and she had to hold back a small groan. "...I believe that a lawsuit is viable, and would suggest you and your brother arrange an appointment to discuss your legal options." SMACK. "Um, my secretary has prepared some reading material from prior cases that have set a precedent..." SMACK. "Umf, a precedent for situations similar to your own. If you have any further questions please do not hesitate to contact me." SMACK. "Yours Sincerely, R. Gold."

"Read it again."

Belle was unable to hold back the small groans that escaped as he she read it a second time, the sharp blows to her ass coming quicker. Breathy sounds peppered her reading, and her eyes grew half lidded as she read his name again, and the smacks built to a crescendo, the lost blow landing as she cried out "Yours Sincerely, R. Gold!"

Mr. Gold fell forward covering her back, using his hand to prop himself over her so their bodies were not in contact, only his thumb just barely touched her little finger. His breathing was quicker, matching her own heavy breathing, and she could feel his breath tickling the strands of curly hair that had escaped her high bun. She stared at the tiny way their hands connected. His thumb was made the smallest movement against her skin, and she curled her little finger around him, wanting more of this intimate contact.

Mr. Gold pulled back, straightening up, leaving her breathless and ass throbbing with the spanking he had just delivered to her. "Type it again," he told her back to his business tone and walked away to go sit on his sofa.

More than a little stunned about what had just transpired between them, she took the letter with her, and went to the toilets. Pulling up her skirt and her underwear down, she inspected her throbbing buttocks in the mirror. It was red where he had spanked her over and over, alternating each cheek with every strike.

Why wasn't she more horrified about this? This wasn't what normally happened at the work place, was it? What did this mean about her 'prescribed employee relationship'? She couldn't deny the way it felt, the way it still felt. It felt good.

Belle straightened herself out, and went to retype the letter. When she delivered it to Mr. Gold, he was still on his sofa and now reading a case file. She placed it carefully on the side table, and smiled expectantly. But he ignored her, and deliberately licked his finger to carefully turn a page.

Realization dawned on Belle, and she let out a quiet, "oh." this was how it was going to be, this little game that was going on between them. He'd punish her, and they would carry on as if nothing was different. She couldn't contain the knowing smile, at the knowledge of this little secret they now shared, and she left Mr. Gold's office without either of them saying another word.

It wasn't an hour later, when Mr. Gold passed her in the photo-copying room where she was standing over the machine mid way through copying a file. He knocked on the door to catch her attention, "excellent letter, dear." He told her, and flashed one of his little smiles at her, and left her with the copy machine strobing light beneath the book she had pressed down to the glass.

Belle allowed herself a grin, at the rush of pleasure his small praise brought her.

That night while she was washing up she told her father that the locks could come off the kitchen cabinets. He had smiled and hugged her, with no idea who and what had inspired this new change in his daughter.

oOo

The next day on my way home from work, I went for a walk through the forest. I went to the toll bridge, and dropped the storage box with the foil disney princesses and battered sewing kit into the fast flowing river waters. I watched them and the tools they contained sink out of sight down the river, and felt apart of myself go with them. I felt a weight lift from my heart, and I for the first time since my mother had died I felt free.

The games with Mr. Gold began. Every typo was marked with Mr. Gold's red pen, and Belle found herself on the receiving end of a variety of imaginative punishments. Sometimes he spanked her, sometimes he made her crawl around the office on her hands and knees to deliver a letter to him in her mouth. He had leather cuffs and collars he'd link together and make her sit in the corner her hands bound behind her back, or sometimes she'd have to work like that. Once he made her lean over his desk repeating "I am stupid" for 5 minutes as she stared at the typo "allomoney," and she struggled to keep a straight face the entire time.

Belle played along with these little games, her breath catching in her throat every time he bellowed "Miss French!" from the hallway. The antiques on the pedestals that lined the hall way had been replaced one by one with her framed typing errors, the mistakes ringed in red, each representing a punishment she had received. Soon the pedestals were full, and her framed letters were hung on the walls, a corridor of white typed pages and their glaring red mistakes.

Despite the glares and snarls he gave her, the sighs of exasperation whenever he waved a typoed letter about, she could tell he was enjoying the theatrics and games just as much as she was.

She gladly carried out every whimsical order, to change the light in the hallway to a 60watt light bulb, to iron and starch his pocket squares and arrange them in order of dominant colors. When he checked her work and gave her a little smile, his satisfaction became her own.

He told her what to eat, and Belle could not wait for the evening call to him to tell him what was for dinner.

"It's hamburgers and fries, with ice-cream dessert." She waited with baited breath for Mr. Gold on the other end of the line.

She heard him sigh softly as he considered what she would have, "You can have the hamburger, 6 fries, one tablespoon of ketchup, and as much ice-cream as you want."

Her father looked at her oddly as she measured the over large amount of ketchup onto the 6 fries. But she didn't care because this is what Mr. Gold told her she could have, and she savored every fry licking the ketchup from her fingers. Every bite reminded her of him, and it brought her bliss.

She was still going on dates with Gaston, it made her father happy and she couldn't find the voice to say no when he called. But she did seem to start day dreaming of Mr. Gold when Gaston droned on, and he was too self absorbed to notice. He was nice, he had mellowed out since High School, he was just...dull.

Belle wanted Mr. Gold, and he must want her too right? She hadn't missed all those hungry looks he had given her, when her clothing was disheveled and her breathing heavy from their spanking sessions. She just needed him to open up about his feelings.

Belle flicked through the glossy pages of cosmo, as she laid on her back on her bed. Cosmo's advice was to try some breezy humor to get your man to open up, and whatever you do, do not jump to relationship talk.

She flung the magazine to the side, and stared up at the ceiling, thinking about Mr. Gold fixing her with one of his heated dark stares, the one that betrayed what he was thinking of doing to her.

Biting her lip, she let her hand glide over her belly, to touch herself through her cotton white panties. Just thinking about the older man made her wet, and she rubbed her clitoris in slow circles letting out a soft groan.

She opened her eyes, this wasn't right, Mr. Gold wasn't her boyfriend. She closed her eyes again, and concentrated on thinking about Gaston. She tried to think about the adoring kisses he gave her when he dropped her off from her date, that always reminded her of being slobbered on by a dog.

Belle frowned, this just wasn't working. She went back to thinking about Mr. Gold, pining her down with just his eyes, she knew everything was wrong about the situation but it never failed to make her panties wet. "Oh Mr. Gold..." She moaned to herself, rubbing herself faster. She imagined she was on her hands and knees in front of him, and he was just watching her. The pressure was building up from within her, "I'm your secretary." She said aloud, her orgasm was getting closer. In her mind she was on her hands and knees, he was watching with those dark brown eyes that hid such passion, and she was crying out "I'm your secretary!"

She let out a gasp, and she squeezed her thighs around her hand as she came. Mr. Gold Mr. Gold Mr. Gold...that was all she could think about as the rush of her orgasm spread through her body.

Belle let her head fall back onto the bed, she felt spent and boneless. She was his secretary, he was her boss, she knew their relationship was wrong on so many levels. But she wanted him, and she was sure he wanted her just as much.

Some time ago Mr. Gold had ordered Belle to bring in a small desk and chair from the library, and it sat in front of his desk so she could do her typing in front of him. It was perhaps sized for a child, and her knees hit the underside. But Belle was content to be under Mr. Gold's watchful eye.

"How many inches away was the furnace?"

Except he wasn't so watchful today, he had been on the phone most of the morning with a client.

"Yes, I am aware you care for 8 children, and shoe sized dwellings are inadequate." Mr. Gold was sounding ever more exasperated.

Belle typed away at her letter, the type bars clacking up to hit the paper with each letter. She hit the return bar to bring up the paper, and saw she had mistyped 'incorrigible' as 'incorrigibelle'.

"Is this the overweight child or the child from Boston?" Mr. Gold asked his client.

She sighed, picking up the white-out to blot out her mistake. She stopped herself before the brush touched the paper, and looked over her typewriter at the lawyer.

"Well I'm confused now dearie! Just when was the banister broken?!"

Belle bit her lip, and mischievously put the brush back in the white-out bottle without correcting her mistake. She plucked the letter from the type writer, and took it over to his desk. She had brought a new white shirt with frills around the neckline, which she kept unbuttoned as low as possible, and purposefully leaned to give him a clear view of her cleavage when she set the letter down in front of him.

"You may have a case if you can prove the negligence was not on your part..." Mr. Gold grumbled, and much to Belle's disappointment didn't check over the letter. He just signed it and handed it back to her.

Belle folded it and put it in the envelope, and slowly licked the gummed edge, trying to impart on Mr. Gold exactly what she'd rather be licking.

That caught his attention, and she was sure there was a flash of lust in his eyes before he fought it back and he covered the phone with his hand. "I'm working," he told her sternly before going back to his client. Belle sighed in frustration giving up, there would be no games today it would seem and she went to sit at her small desk in frustration.

"Give me a week and I'll have something for you. I'm sorry, the office has been..." Mr. Gold continued to try and appease the irate woman on the phone, even if he was having difficulty ignoring Belle. "...overwhelmed."

Belle finished up the next few hours of work, and it was time to go home. She didn't want to go home though, but there was absolutely nothing she could find to do. Mr. Gold had been busy, and spent the entire afternoon in his office working diligently. She felt like she had been cheated out a day of interaction with the older lawyer, and she craved it.

With her purse slung over her shoulder, she hesitated in the corridor lined by all her framed typing errors. "I'm going home now Mr. Gold," she shouted towards his office.

Mr. Gold sat at his desk, contrary to what she might think Belle was not so easy to ignore. She was tempting him, and he was trying his best to resist. "Goodbye Ms. French." Once she was gone, the temptation to find some error in her typing as an excuse to have her bent over his desk would be easier.

Belle huffed to herself, giving it one last try, "If you need any more typing done," she shouted, "I can come back in the evening if you like?"

More temptation for him. Mr. Gold was grateful that he was hidden away in his office so she could not see the conflict and longing playing out on his face. He stared at the door separating them like a forlorn puppy. He wanted to call out 'please stay', but instead "Thank you, that will be all," tripped out from his tongue. Frustrated with himself he ran his fingers through his hair and silently berated himself.

Belle herself was left feeling disappointed, and she left the building for the night, knowing he would not call her back in for a few more hours of 'over-time'.

oOo

Some evenings, Belle went to the diner for a chat and some cake with Ruby, and whomever else was there. The past few months she had changed, and people seemed to like talking to this new confident Belle that Mr. Gold had found and nurtured.

Today there was also Sheriff Graham, and the three of them were gossiping at the counter.

"It's just, weird," the Sheriff explained, "I know she's the Mayor but she's always finding some excuse to be at the Sheriff's station. Then the other week, I was looking for this paper work on my desk, leaning over and..." The young man appeared to blush, and he avoided the girl's stares. "She grabbed my ass."

Belle and Ruby looked at each other, mouths hanging open slightly.

"I know it must sound strange from a guy, but I don't want her doing that!"

Belle and Ruby nodded at him, faces showing sympathy.

"That's definitely sexual harassment, you should sue." Ruby told him as she leaned onto the counter.

Graham gave her an incredulous look, "but she's the Mayor!"

Belle cleared her throat, "I think you definitely have a case," she said in her professional voice. "My boss, Mr. Gold, he handles lots of sexual harassment lawsuits, you should definitely consult with him."

Graham still didn't look convinced, "Mr. Gold, really?" He exchanged a look with Ruby, Mr. Gold had a fearsome reputation around the town, but he kept to himself. But he was the only lawyer in town. "Is he any good?"

Just thinking about Mr. Gold sent Belle to her faraway place, and she sighed a little unable to stop the little smile she got whenever she thought about her boss. "He's the best," she declared with a sigh.

Both Ruby and the Sheriff were giving each other odd looks over the daydreaming belle when Graham's radio cracked. He turned away to answer it, "She's right here. What is wrong?" As he listened his eyes went to Belle, "Ok, I got it." He clicked off the radio and put it back onto his belt. "Belle, that was the hospital, they're looking for you. Your father is in there."

oOo

Belle went immediately to the hospital to find her father. He had checked himself in, he had been trying to cut back on drinking and the detox had gotten too much for him.

She had watched him from the window, fighting back tears as her once strong and joyful father looked so pale and weak now. He was hooked up to monitors and IVs as nurses bustled around him. He was asleep now, and in the best place.

There was nothing she could do to help him, and there was no one there to comfort her. In a daze she left the hospital, and walked the streets of Storybrooke alone. She couldn't bear to go back to her empty house, and instead her feet took her to the nice neighborhood. It was still mild this late in summer, and she looked at the Victorian houses painted in their pretty colors, searching for the right one.

She counted the house numbers, and realized the large salmon pink house was the one she was looking for. She didn't know if Mr. Gold was home and she didn't feel brave enough to knock on the front door. There was no life visible from the front of the house, the curtains drawn tight shut against her. She had to check for sure though and went to the side gate. It was unlocked and she crept around the house to the back garden. It was perfectly manicured, with neat rose bushes everywhere. Their blooms had mostly died by now, the dried multicoloured petals scattered around the garden. She found her way around the back to patio doors which revealed a living room, styled in the rich colors and antique woods Mr. Gold loved so much.

Belle let out a relieved breath, when she saw Mr. Gold there at a spinning wheel. His back was to her, and he must be concentrating so hard on twine that he pulled out of the machine, the wheel spinning in its rhythmic hypnotic motion. She had never actually seen him spin before. He was out of his jacket, his gold armbands keeping his sleeves up and out the way. With her arms wrapped tightly around herself she crept up to the large glass doors and knocked on them to get his attention.

Mr. Gold nearly fell off the stool in surprise as he spun around, eyes wide with shock to see his secretary there in his back garden. He didn't bother pick up his cane and he limped awkwardly the short distance to the french doors, where Belle waited on the other side. The wheel slowed it's pace without his attention in the background, the spokes no longer a blur. The older man unlocked the door, and took in her puffy face and red eyes, the strands of chestnut hair falling out of her pony tail. "Yes, Belle?"

She made the effort to smile up at him, "Hi," her breath coming out heavier than it should have. "I just..." she began, trying to find the words. Now she was here before him, she wasn't sure what she wanted. Him? Comfort? Someone to talk to? "I need you to..." help me forget, but she couldn't finish the sentence.

Mr. Gold's brow was creased in confusion, and his fingers resting against the door frame twitched in their twisting motion of an invisible string, which he always done when he was thinking or nervous. "You need me to what, dear?" He had meant to say 'dearie', to frighten her off and keep her at bay, but a more genuine endearment slipped out instead and he cursed himself for it.

"I wanted..." Belle tried to find the courage, but the way he stared at her uncomfortably made her swallow down what she really wanted to say. "I wanted to remind you not to forget you have an appointment at 9 o'clock with Mr. Dumpty."

Mr. Gold didn't look convinced that she came all this way to tell him about a meeting, but he didn't want to press any further for danger of finding out the real reason. "Thank you," he muttered quietly, averting his gaze down so his hair fell in front of his face, so he wouldn't have to look at the obvious distress in her face.

Belle gave one last smile at him, and left his garden, knowing he was standing there watching making sure she left. When her back was turned her face creased up and she let the tears fall, that continued on her long walk through Storybrooke to the empty house she'd have to stay in alone.

Belle had come to seek out Mr. Gold at his home, and they both knew an invisible line had been crossed.