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 4

After Mr. Gold turned me away from his house, things changed between us. He threw out all his red pens, and he moved me back to my old desk in the waiting room. I kept making mistakes but it was as if he didn't care. He treated me like a regular secretary, and I began to wonder if that's all I was to him anymore.

Belle's father was soon released from the hospital, and he was doing remarkably well. He hadn't touched a drop of drink in a week, and had been convinced to take a few days rest before going back to work in the shop. She was hopeful that maybe this time, her father would manage to stay sober and put his energy into managing the shop rather than the bottle.

While the worry for her father had, at least temporarily, relaxed somewhat, the relationship between Mr. Gold and herself deepened.

Belle tried everything to get Mr. Gold's attention, any time she'd hand him a freshly typed invoice or letter, he'd barely look at it. Neither did he look at her when she bent deliberately over the desk onto her elbows, trying to give him the sultriest look imaginable.

The lawyer just growled impatiently and waved a file under her nose.

Belle sighed and took the file from him, but this day she stopped and tried to take Cosmo's advice. She took a deep breath and said as casually as possible, "I guess you spun a little magic with the Dumpty case."

That made Mr. Gold stop the shuffling of papers and files on his desk. He looked up at her in confusion.

"You know, spun..." She nodded her head towards the spinning wheel in the corner of the office, hoping he would pick up the joke and give her a light chuckle at least.

Mr. Gold turned to the spinning wheel, then back to her, but he showed no amusement at her little joke. "Oh yes," he told her and waved his hand at her to tell her to get back to work.

After Cosmo's advice had failed her so spectacularly, Belle decided to up her game. She was no longer happy to be just Mr. Gold's secretary.

She had a rather risqué photo taken, on her knees in only black underwear and suspenders. She channeled her inner Betty Page as she posed with her hair wild and down, hips thrust out with her hands lacked behind her head, looking thoroughly debauched for the camera, for him. She left it in a pretty vintage frame on his desk with half a dozen long stemmed red roses. There could be no way Mr. Gold could misunderstand her intentions.

But the photo disappeared, and Mr. Gold never mentioned it.

Belle experimented with spanking herself at home, getting out a flat wooden hair brush to slap her ass with it. She soon realized it just wasn't the same, it wasn't Mr. Gold, and it didn't turn her on the way he did.

She was almost resigned to a boring life with Gaston, when one morning as she stepped over the grass lawn on her way to work she looked down to see a large snail in front of her patent leather shoes. She would give it one last go, one last push into making Mr. Gold react.

Belle sat at her desk in the waiting room, a knowing smile on her lips as she put the now dead snail into a piece of paper, and folded it neatly into an envelope she had addressed to Mr. Gold at this very office in her loopy bubble like handwriting. She licked the gummed edge slowly and carefully.

Little did she know that Mr. Gold was secretly watching her from behind the open hallway door. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn't help but sneak little peeks of the little minx when she wasn't looking. She had bloomed from the scared little girl into a confident woman that made the blood rush away from his brain to inappropriate parts of his body.

The photograph he had found on his desk made his mouth run dry, and although he knew he should destroy it, burn away the evidence for the impending lawsuit. But he shoved it into the bottom desk of his draw, face down along with the tea cup she had broken when she had first come for her interview.

Now she was licking the envelope, in the way that took every part of his will power to not drag her over the desk and give her a good paddling for trying to seduce her employer like that.

Mr. Gold slipped silently back behind the door and hobbled into the restroom. He splashed his face with cold running water, and scrubbed at it to banish his inappropriate thoughts. He looked at himself in the mirror, all wrinkles and silver streaked hair. He was twice her age, he had no business getting involved in such a lovely young thing.

He smoothed his hair down and set his best bored lawyer poker face, and this time with his cane made his entry proper through the waiting room. He knew her clear blue eyes followed him, as the sound of her hand slamming down onto the stapler crunched through a bundle of papers. Mr. Gold didn't look back at Belle, lest he damn himself and her along with him.

The next day, Mr. Gold was going through his post, sorting checks into a pile to cash, things that needed to be followed up immediately, things that could wait, and junk mail into the trash.

He came to a hand written letter, and he frowned when he recognized the writing. Slowly and carefully he slit the top with his ornate silver letter opener, and pulled the thick headed paper out onto the desk.

When the paper opened, he gasped and pushed himself away from the desk in horror.

Sitting on the middle of the cream paper, was a crushed, semi dried snail. Bits of broken shell and entrails smeared and stained the otherwise perfectly pristine paper. It sat there limp and flaccid, it mocked and taunted him.

It was disgusting.

It was brilliant.

She was brilliant.

Mr. Gold opened his side draw, where the one red pen he hadn't been able to throw out sat in a gold dish. Uncapping it, he drew a red circle around the mess of the snail. But one circle wasn't enough, he kept going around and around this very big mistake. This was the error to end all errors.

He flung the pen away somewhere across the room, and pressed the intercom. "Miss French, join me in my office," he told her curtly.

Belle knew what this was about, "but Miss. Muffet is waiting for your 11 o'clock appointment..."

"She can wait, get in here now."

Belle grinned to herself, he had taken the bait. "Finally," she whispered.

She walked slowly to Mr. Gold's office, and she was cool and collected when she opened the door. Mr. Gold was sitting at his desk staring at her, composed and waiting for her with his hands folded together in front of him. The crushed snail encircled in red ink on the letter paper sat in the middle of the desk. They both knew what this was about.

Belle didn't fight the little smirk on her lips as she took her time to go the opposite side of the desk, and settle down on her elbows. She watched him, smile still playing on her lips, as she waited for his first move.

The door bell to the building chimed, and without any other reaction Mr. Gold told Belle cooly, "ignore it."

Mr. Gold stood from his high backed red leather chair, and using his cane moved around the desk until he was directly behind her to where she couldn't see him. She heard him inhale and let out a deep breath.

"Now pull up your skirt," he told her calmly.

Belle didn't turn to look at him, but asked "why?"

"You're not worried I'm going to fuck you, are you?" Mr. Gold's tone was quiet, and verging on mocking. "I'm not interested in that in the least. Now pull up your skirt," he ordered.

From the hall way that connected the waiting room and Mr. Gold's office, a called. "Belle?" A slight pause, and the voice got a bit closer, "Belle?"

Belle gasped quietly, it was Gaston. She had forgotten that they were supposed to have lunch together that day. She looked back at Mr. Gold, they didn't want to be discovered like this did they?

Mr. Gold didn't look concerned in the slightest. He was still staring down at her, his hands resting on the gold handle of his cane. "I said, pull up your skirt dearie."

Thinking quickly, Belle called out, "Gaston, I can't have lunch today. I'm a bit busy right now, I'll speak to you later."

"Oh ok..." Gaston sounded disappointed from the other side of the door, "talk to you later then."

There were a few seconds where Belle forgot to breath, until she was sure Gaston wasn't going to come through the door. She let her head go forward again, as she reached behind herself to pull up the tight pencil skirt until it bunched ungracefully around her waist.

"Now pull down your pantyhose and underwear," Mr. Gold said. Belle didn't immediately comply, and he must have noticed the hesitation. "I told you I'm not going to fuck you," he said lowly.

She didn't know what he was going to do, he had never asked her to undress in any way before. But she trusted him implicitly, so she pulled down the tan color pantyhose and her white underwear so they bunched just below her crotch.

Mr. Gold closed his eyes for a second to collect himself at the sight before him, her ass smooth and perfect. She was just so beautiful in every way, he shouldn't be perverting her like this. He reached his hand out and ghosted it over the roundness without ever touching it.

Licking his lips, he discarded the cane somewhere on the floor. He reached to his trouser fly to unzip himself, pulled the hard length of his cock out, and started stroking himself. His breathing became heavier as his movements got quicker, and he let himself lean forward to steady himself with a hand on her shoulder.

Belle didn't move, or even look back. She listened to his breathing, it sounded like a small animal that only came out at night snuffling away in the dirt. She could hear the sound of the friction of skin on dry skin, and then a few hitched breaths from Mr. Gold before she felt something warm and wet soak the back of her shirt. He tightened his grip on her shoulder, as if he was scared to let go. Reluctantly the hand slid away, and Belle heard his fly zip up again.

She heard him make his way from behind her, moving awkwardly without his cane. He took his seat again in the leather chair, eyes heavy-lidded and the most undone she had ever seen him. He avoided her questioning gaze, as he brushed his long hair back away from his face as if in an attempt to get back some kind of order, but she could see his hands were shaking.

Belle watched him go through the motions, wanting so desperately to reach out to him. He looked so confused and lost, and she wanted to tell him it was ok, she understood what he felt, and she felt the same.

Mr. Gold started looking through a pile of folders to the side of his desk, and pick out one to hold to her. "Get these forms filled out, and then go have your lunch break, bring me my sandwich I'm eating lunch in." Mr. Gold said struggling to get back to some semblance of normal, "Have the usual," he attempted to smile at her. "But no mayonnaise," he waved around the file as he struggled to think. "And send in what's-her-name."

The smile did nothing to hide the confusion in his eyes, and Belle wordlessly took the file from him. This was a big step for him she understood, and she thought best to leave him to gather his thoughts.

In a bit of a daze herself, she pulled her skirt back down and walked back to her desk to deposit the file and send Miss. Muffet in. She opened the top draw of her desk, and found a crumpled piece of paper and hurried to the toilets.

In the mirror she could see the wet marks where it had smeared onto the back of her shirt, and she tried to dab it with some paper towels. She looked at the mess, and let a small smile spread to her face. "Oh Mr. Gold," she said unable to keep the adoration out of her voice. He had given her a piece of himself.

Throwing the paper towels in the trash, she went and locked herself in the bathroom stall. She unfolded the crumpled piece of paper, it was one of her letters with the typos Mr. Gold had marked in red. It had obviously been well used, and around the edges were hole reinforcers so she could stick it up onto the wall.

Bell took a step back from it, and pressed herself back against the wall. "Oh Mr. Gold..." she said more lowly this time, and hitched her skirt over her hips so she could slide her hand into her white panties. "Cock," she said lowly, thinking how dirty it sounded, but god it turned her on. She thought about Mr. Gold as she stared to rub her clit, stroking the wetness already there. "Put your prick into my mouth," she whispered as she stared at the letter, thinking about the ways his eyes narrowed every time he spotted a mistake, one of her mistakes. "Screw me," she gasped rubbing herself harder, as her other hand found its way into her shirt and bra, and she squeezed her breast, imagining it was Mr. Gold ravaging her like this.

"Mayonnaise," she was trying not to cry out, but all the things that turned her on just tumbled out now, "roses, six french fries!" She was so close to her orgasm, "oh, Mr. Gold!" she said a bit more louder than she intended, as she went over the edge and felt herself clench and flutter, her body finding it's release.

Belle took a few moments to get her breath, but before she opened her eyes she whispered "Robert" to herself in contentment.

Belle went for her lunch sat in the diner, reading a book entitled 'Coming out as a Dominant/submissive':

"Most people believe the best way to live is to run from pain. But a much more joyful life embraces the entire spectrum of human feeling. If we can experience pain as well as pleasure, we can live a much deeper, meaningful life."

She sucked on the straw of her ice tea, contemplating how her life with Mr. Gold was going to move forward.

Mr. Gold also sat in his office contemplating how his life with Belle could possibly move forward from this. He had done the unthinkable, he had defiled her with his perversion. He limped over to the hallway, lined with all of Belle's framed letters. He'd taken this further than ever before, much too far. He just had never had anyone quite so willing as Belle.

With a snarl he started smashing the glass to every frame, swiping the ones on the pedal stools off onto the floor, making sure every single one was broken.

He stormed back into the office and over to his filing cabinet, and found the one he kept the employee contracts in. Belle's was the newest on the top, but it also contained Milah's, Cora's, Regina's and the other girls who hadn't lasted a week. They were the sensible ones, no one should be near him. He took the entire file to the parking lot, setting the corner of the file on fire and watched the pages turn black and curl, turning into ash and floating away in the breeze, before he was forced to drop it onto the gravel.

Mr Gold went back to his office and to his desk, and pulled the bottom draw open so hard it nearly came out. His secret keep sakes of Belle's, the framed picture of her and the chipped cup. He tossed the photo frame across the room and heard it shatter with a satisfying crack. He was about to do the same with the cup when he felt his anger suddenly ebb away, and he shoved it back into the draw and shut it away.

Mr. Gold set a piece of heavy letter paper into the typewriter on a side table just next to his desk, and hunched over it as he typed with two fingers:

Dear Belle,

This is disgusting. I'm sorry.

I don't know why I'm like this.

I'm a monster.

He hit the return bar to feed the paper up before ripping it from the machine. He stared at the admission for a long time, before swinging around in his chair and feeding the paper into the shredder. He was such a coward.

He leaned across the desk to press the intercom, "please come to my office immediately Belle, bring your typing scores," he said into the small box before sitting back and waiting for her.

Belle had just arrived back from lunch, and carried Mr. Gold's sandwich in the take out bag when she saw the corridor to the lawyers office. Broken glass lay strewn over the dark red carpet, every one of her framed typos had been broken.

She carefully picked her way through the glittering shards of glass, and when she opened the door to Mr. Gold's office the first thing she saw at her feet was the broken frame of the picture of herself she had given him. Her own eyes stared back at her from the cracked glass.

Full of concern she looked up to see Mr. Gold sitting at his desk, his face impassive but underneath the iron control he was trying to exert over himself he was shaken. She knew him well enough by now to see that. "What happened?" She asked, as she came closer to his desk and set his lunch down on it carefully as not to disturb a wild animal.

The lawyer ignored the question, "are you pregnant?" he asked.

Belle frowned gently in confusion and said, "no."

"Do you plan to get pregnant?"

She looked into his face, trying to read him, but answered him as she had the first time they had met, "no," she said with a small shake of her head.

"Do you live in a house or an apartment?"

Her eyes never leaving his she said, "a house."

"Alone?"

"With my father."

Mr. Gold seemed relieved to break their gaze, and pressed the secret switch to his rose garden. This time Belle didn't look at it, she kept her eyes locked onto him.

With a withering look that seemed to take all his strength he looked at the crumpled certificate in her hand. "Are those your test scores?"

"Yes," Belle leaned over to hand them to him, but he flinched slightly and held up his hand to say he didn't really want to see them.

He peered up at her through the strands of brown hair, head tilted to side, "do you really want to be my secretary?" he asked, voice a bit quieter than before, a note of disbelief to his question.

Belle's expression softened towards him, she wanted to reach out and brush away the uncertainty she saw. "Yes, I do," she told him sincerely.

Mr. Gold searched her face, trying to find any hint of misgiving. But he found none, so he grabbed his cane and stood, to pace around the back of her, "this isn't about typos, staples, and erasers, is it dearie?"

Despite the bite to his tone, Belle stood straight and didn't look back at him. "No, Mr. Gold," she breathed out quietly.

The older man took a step closer towards her back, "what?" he asked, irritated at her small voice.

More confidently and loudly this time, she repeated, "no, Mr. Gold." She could feel him staring at the back of her head.

"Belle, I like you but I don't think I'm going to offer you the job."

It was like a slap across the face, and Belle's mouth opened for a second before the question came out, "why?"

"It's your behavior."

"What about my behavior?"

There was a pause of a heart-beat.

"It's..." Mr. Gold said gravely, "...very bad. I'm sorry, you can collect your things."

Something in Belle snapped, she wasn't going to just accept this like the meek little girl she was, "time out," she said, spinning around to face him finally.

"Time out?" he repeated with a little disbelief. "You're fired," he told her as if he hadn't made himself clear.

"No, you're fired!" She shouted back at him, fighting back the tears building in her eyes.

Mr. Gold raised his voice to match hers, making it clear he wasn't going to back down. "you're fired, dearie. I don't want you. Now get out!"

The slap that landed on his face reverberated throughout the room, his jaw turned to the side by the blow. He ground his teeth, before turning back to her and growling out, "Why did you get glue on the Hubbard case papers?"

"I was fixing your shredder, you saw me," she shot back.

"Why are there still books in your desk draw? I told you to take them home, I don't want the possibility of you reading, filling your head with silly ideas, when you should be working for me. I saw them...I know they're still there!" he said with as much disdain as he could muster, which was a considerable amount.

"I'll move them," she said with defiance, keeping her chin up high and refusing to let the tears fall.

Mr. Gold was about to fire off with his next criticism, but it died before it left his throat. He searched her watery blue eyes for the truth behind her words. Maybe he found them, because the energy seemed to leave him and he turned from her, limping slowly away from her to the reclining chair by the art nouveau standing lamp he used for reading. It faced away from her, so with his back to her he slid down onto it, letting his cane clatter down beside him.

"You have to go," he said quietly as he stared ahead, "I won't be able to stop myself."

"Don't." She pleaded from behind him.

That made him close his eyes in an attempt to block her out further, and she closed the distance between them so she was standing right at his shoulder.

"I cannot do this anymore," he whispered.

"I want to know you..." Belle said gently, reaching out with her hand to run her fingers through his hair, brushing the brown and white strands away from his face. The tears that had been threatening to fall finally rolled silently over her cheeks.

For a moment, Mr. Gold melted into her touch like a cat, his eyes still closed as his head followed the movement of her hand. But he stopped himself, flinching and curling his body away from her.

Belle let her hand fall sadly away, and felt both pity and anger at the man who was closing himself off when he could have her, he could have everything he wanted and more. Belle could have what she wanted too.

Still angled defensively away from her, Mr. Gold reached into his inside jacket pocket, and pulled free a brown envelope. He regarded it in his hands for a moment. "I'm so sorry for what happened between us. I realized what a terrible mistake I made with you. I can only hope you understand. Be assured you can count on me for an excellent reference." He held the envelope up to her, without ever looking back.

Belle's breath hitched as she struggled to keep her composure, and she didn't take the letter from him.

"Get out," he said. When she only sniffled uselessly against her tears he finally looked up at her, there was a darkness to his eyes and this time with venom he shouted at her, "Get out dearie!"

Belle took a shuddering breath, and grasped the letter from him. Slowly she made her way to the office door, and with one last look over her shoulder to him she said as her parting words, "you could have had everything, but all you'll have now is an empty heart and a chipped cup." She left him to brood in his dark office, as she packed her things into a cardboard box, crying as she did so. It was only when she carried her things outside clutching the box to her chest and stood in front of the sign that said 'Mr. R. Gold Attorney at Law' that she let herself sob loudly.