Bamon March Challenge

Iconic Movie Duo ONE SHOT

Movie: Secretary

Movie Characters: Lee Holloway & E. Edward Grey

Actors: Maggie Gyllenhaal & James Spader

Year: 2002

Film Type: Dramedy/BDSM

Story Characters: Lee played by: Bonnie Bennett and E. Edward played by: Damon Salvatore

Story Title: Diligence

R-M

synopsis: She was unhappy, and insecure, he was unhappy and insecure. She had no control over her life. He had total control over his. Until he met her. Yet, somehow... he takes control, and she remains she's diligent to his tactics.

*ONE SHOT* Some people have heard of it, and some haven't. It's an indie cult classic. It's a bit of satire, but an honest look at some basic psychological associations to the idea of dominant and submissive relationships. I was initially gonna do the movie Dirty Dancing because it's more popular and iconic, but it was harder than it seemed. Maybe I'll still try it. But for now, here is this story. It will seem kind of harsh, but if you've ever seen the movie, some of its funny. Anyways, I recommend watching it. This is just an excerpt from the middle of the movie, and I've kept some of the original dialogue, and added ALOT of my own for the sake of Bamon. Also, I've added the interview portion myself. It's not in the movie. So, the beginning and end of this story are Bonnie being interviewed by a journalist. The bold print is the journalist, and the regular is Bonnie. Please Enjoy. And reviews are much appreciated.

"I must say, Ms. Bennett, this is all quite fascinating from a psychological standpoint."

"All relationship dynamics are. Our situation isn't so abnormal."

"People may disagree. They may argue the type of relationship you two have is unhealthy, and will cause long-term psychological effects on the self-esteem, of the 'lesser' person."

Bonnie rolled her eyes, and corrected him. "Mr. Gilbert, you're a journalist so let me give it to you straight. No one, in our highly functional and completely healthy relationship, is a 'lesser' person. We are equals, but one of us, allows the other to lead."

The only man that could ever intimidate me, is sitting a few feet over in a corner. Leaned back on a chair, with one leg bent and propped up onto the other, opened-crossed. His forefinger and thumb hold his chin, and he pierces us with that stare.

"Fair enough. Well, I guess what most of the readers are going to want to know, is when. Did it all begin? You're interest or desire for this lifestyle choice, and how it has impacted you."

"Sure. Well, let's start with saying, neither of us knew back then, that what we have, is anything we were remotely interested in. It was so taboo. And it still is. But it surprised us both with a few incidences, back when I was dealing with severe anxiety disorder, and I went to work for a man who dealt with obsessive compulsory disorder."

"Wait, wait, stop. Two mental health disorders."

"I hate the word disorder, because, together, we function just fine. But, scientifically speaking, those are the psychological terms."

"I agree. Besides if that the case, all of us deal with a disorder of some sort. But, I digress. So, it ended with fate, but started with a job?"

Precisely. And I'll began telling our story.

.. In the beginning ..

I went in for a temp job.

I came out, with the biggest lessons of my life.

One, I was naive.

Two, I was but a girl.

Three, I was unorganized.

Four, I was undisciplined.

Five, I was a hot mess.

Six, I was in a painful place.

Seven, I was alone.

Eight, I was invisible.

Nine, I was numb.

And ten, before this point... I'd never dealt with anyone like him.

Everyday I wear the same colors. The colors that don't overly distract his brain. He... my boss, is very anal. Everything needs to have order to it. Everything, needs to be scheduled. EVERYTHING, has to go the way he says, or he gets angry. And nothing comes of his anger except punishments.

... some time ago ...

These words.

HELP WANTED!

Probably the force behind my drastic life change. I needed a change. My life was in emotional turmoil. I witnesses the pain of a relationship that had long over stayed it's welcome, in my world, I was honestly at my wits end. Everything I was going through mentally, to top it off, hindered my progression in life.

I dealt with my fair share of fucked-up-ness. And when this Help Wanted! flashed in my face from a news paper in the garbage, I knew it was what I needed. In more ways than one.

After seeing my alcoholic father beat my mother, I forced myself to change right then and there. I had always pride myself on being forgiving and open-minded. I was also very naive, and small town, I had no experience generally, with name brand clothes. But I knew, to look professional I had to wear a respectable length skirt, a button up blouse, and cardigan. After all, as a secretary this is how I should dress, right? The position was for a Secretary.

I had no experience, but I knew I could lie, because I wanted it so bad, I'd do anything for it. I'd do anything for a change. I was a wallflower, with absolutely no courage to stand up for myself. I didn't know what it meant to be a woman, feel like a woman, or handle life like a woman. I did all I could to run from dealing with life. I didn't realize it back then, but I do now.

Emotional pain is a trauma that stays with you for life. And the mechanism for coping, will stay with you forever. It was one of those pieces of my life, that was mine. It was all mine, what I did to deal with pain.

I cut myself.

I inflicted physical pain, onto my body to force myself to realize I was human after all. I felt like a no one. To the point, that even when I was in pain, I didn't believe I was worthy of feeling the pain I felt. I was so invisible, that I didn't deserve pain, because pain meant I was real, and if I was real, I was just a burden here, doing nothing, but hurting and being sad all of the time.

But...

Somehow...

When I cut myself, I was real for just a moment. The sadness I felt inside rose to the surface, in the form of my own blood. My human blood, reminded me that I was actually real. And then I'd feel the physical pain. Which let me know, I wasn't invisible, and I did exist. Was cutting myself smart, or even necessary? Maybe, maybe not. But I did it. And I was back to being alive, even if just for moments.

...

Mr. D. Damon Salvatore.

That's his name. He was a lawyer. He was a very particular man.

When I went on my interview, I was a disheveled mess inside. But I tried my hardest to appear all the way together. Though I believe from the moment he'd met me, he could see right through me. A young, naive girl, with hopes of a having a purpose, and being someone, to someone else... even if just in a work space.

To my surprise... He hired me.

I was beside myself with happiness. Happiness, I tried to conceal, but it stayed with me for days in the form of a school girl smile. Strutting around the home I reside with my parents, feeling like a newly independent woman. Nothing could take away the feeling inside of me, That is, until I had my actual first day. He was like a robot. A beautiful, dark, scary, robot. I asked myself from time to time, how this beautiful man, could seem so alone. So sad. And so... angry.

But he was.

He was all of these things, and more.

But mostly, I remember him being all of these things, specifically.

For a few weeks I wore my best clothes. A got a couple skirts from the department store on clearance. And my mother gave me some great button down blouses. I thought I'd looked better than ever.

Ha! The joke was on me. I was such a mess back then. When I thought I was this sophisticated, secretarial, queen of my habitat. But Mr. Salvatore let me know, what I was feeling. Was a mirage of trickery. He let me know I was a frumpy disaster, covered in poorly designed, hand-me-downs.

"You understand you are a visual representation of my practice when people walk in here, right? You are what people look at as a representation of my firm. So, understand, the way you dress, act, speak, and handle yourself, represents me." He said sternly.

"Sure, Mr. Salvatore."

"And your hair!" His exclamation made me feel like, I knew nothing when it came to women's fashion. He would be absolutely right.

"I wear buns. I though they are professional."

"But, it's as if you don't try to make them neat. You just throw them up there, frivolously. And your make up is all wrong. So much clumpage on the eyes, not enough color on the lips." I looked down feeling deflated. "Look at me. You're a grown up. Get it together. Less on the eyes. More on the lips. Tidy up your hair, and don't make me ask again."

I stood there, and didn't say anything. I didn't even cry. Just stood there.

"Well?!"

"Well, what, Mr. Salvatore?"

"Are you serious?" He paused, he wasn't done gathering my whole existence, and tossing it in the garbage. Just when I thought the worst was over. "The clothes! Look at you. Your sweaters are always crooked. Sometimes you miss a button, and it drives me mad." Though he was angry, his blue eyes, sharp tongue, and Raven-colored hair, always made it hard to take him seriously. He was too beautiful to be stern, too smart to be so angry. But he was. "Your skirts end up crooked, or side ways by days end! Don't you pay attention to your clothing? It's a sloppy disaster, and it disgusts me."

I remember how I felt in those moments. I'd never thought a girl like me would ever be attractive to a man like him, but I knew, that at least, he just kind of saw me as a regular girl. To know he saw me this way made me feel confused, and lost. For one, who am I to make such a man so bothered? And two, why would he be so crude about it?

"And stop sniffling. When you spend the day typing, I hear you sniffling. Is it allergies, are you crying?"

"No."

"Then stop it. It's distracting!"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Salvatore."

"Don't be sorry. Be proactive. Take your pay check and... here." He handed me a card. "Go to this department store, and buy yourself some tasteful things." He waived his hand up and down, open palmed in my direction. "I can't have this...anymore."

"Yes, Mr. Salvatore." I sat in my humility, for what felt like seconds of embarrassment wrapped in fear of his next set of thoughts.

He almost didn't understand, how much his words affected me, but truthfully, he didn't care. He stare at me like I was taking up too much space in his office, and then rolled his eyes.

"Go away, please." He shooed me away while focusing back on his papers. I wasn't even n after thought to him.

He made me feel like shit. But at the same time, to be noticed by a man like him, stayed with me, he was so well put together. So handsome. The best part about him, was the way he stare at me, like I was an abyss. Like I was nothingness. But, at the same time, someone who kept him curious.

Sounds weird, right? For a man to stare into you, like your a big black whole. I thought so back then too. I thought, how could he just stare at me in such a way, with such disgust, and avoidance. But... I also realized that, just the mere notice he had of me, was something I relished in. I loved him staring at me this way, because it meant, that somehow, I was somewhere inside of his head when he didn't expect me to be, or want me to be.

And with that, I walked out of his office, dignity intact.

...

Over the next few weeks, I changed my appearance. He sent me on a wild hunt, with a list of acceptable clothing stores, and colors to wear. I went from just wearing black and brown to wearing blouses in a variety of colors. Blue, burgundy with white stripes, white blouses with designs, natural colored tops, and even grey. Once in a while I popped with purple, or carnation.

At this point, after weeks of getting myself together, I felt. Bit more confident in myself. I was happier on a daily basis, and less afraid to be approached by people.

I even ran into an old high school acquaintance. Kol Mikaelson. He was such a douche back then. He'd never notice me before. But lately, my new changes had gained everyone's attention. People took notice in this new me. This more confident version of me. I wasn't exactly where I wanted to be. But in was damn near noticeably more vibrant. It even showed in my work performance. I was happy, working.

And eventually, Kol and hung out more, and started dating.

At work, Mr. Salvatore became very specific with the way he wanted things at this point from me. His training me, became more of an obsessive compulsory. He didn't just tell me to type, he wanted everything typed a specific way, by a certain time. He put me on a schedule. As if it wasn't bad enough I had to order his food with certain particular preferences. He got to a point, where he started making me organize my desk certain ways. And let's not get started on my spell errors, and typos. He yelled at me for having them, called me juvenile. Said I could have been honest about my experience, which was little to none.

I was a twenty-three year old girl.

I was trying something on my own.

I'd gotten out of rehab before I got this job, because of Anxiety trauma. I was working on myself, and doing what I thoughtlessly assumed was my best. I didn't have the right people round me guiding me, because they were all stuck in their self-inflicted delusions of life. Mr. Salvatore was the first person who set me straight. You may tell yourself, he's an asshole. He's not a nice guy. You don't deserve his arrogance.

You might.

But, no one had ever gave it to me straight before. Everyone had always coddled me, which lead to my inevitable laziness, and depression. He was a straight shooter.

And somehow, he was making me better. How naive am I? How naive was I? When he called me into his office, I was ready for the newest rude tone, and unavoidable form correction he had for my inability to sustain a perfect working environment, that he could trust in my ethic. Instead I got a loud yell and an angry face.

How could such a handsome man, make such an angry face. He stormed into my workspace and used his fingers as to conjure my movement, and said, "Come here, now." He said firmly. Then he walked away, and I stumbled out of my seat and followed him, having forgotten to remove the paperwork from my hands, due to my inability to function normally amount his mood swings. I was struck with his serious tone, and semi-loud pitch, since the office was empty today. When I walked in, he closed the door behind me.

"Are you incompetent?"

"Excuse me, Sir." I shuttered dropping the papers in my hand. I knelt down quickly to pick them up, and I felt him ready to yell again. I felt his arrogance to my futile attempt at pretending he didn't frighten me. When I stood back up, his lips tightened, to prepare for his next phrase and my lips shook, in the disbelief, that he had so many corrections for me. His face was utterly close to mine, and my lips kept shaking, under his focus.

He's stare at my lips. Then, he caught himself staring incredulously at my lips. But he never answered. So, I asked again. "Excuse me Sir?"

He kept staring at my lips, and that's when I smelled his after shave. It was strong. And it paid off, because his face was baby smooth. He also smelled of leather and his breath was warm and cold at the same time, and his breath was never bad. He had superior dental hygiene. He smelled so manly. Kol didn't smell this way. Don't get me wrong, Kol smelled clean and fresh, and like basic shampoo. But he didn't smell like Mr. Salvatore.

Still, he was stare at me not speaking, just watching my frightened lips shake. He tightened his lips, readjusted his pants at the crotch, which I found both erotic, and strange. Then, he finally spoke again. "Spell. The. Word. Behavior."

"What?"

"Spell the word behavior!"

"Behavior. B-E-H-A-V-I-O-U-R. Behavior."

"What is this? A fucking Spelling Bee? Spell it, like a grown up!"

"B..." I stumbled, nervously, "E-H-A-V-I-O-U-R."

"Incorrect! Who told you, there was a U in behavior. Behaviour?" He mocked sarcastically. "Are you serious? Do you hear how that sounds?"

"Yes." I shuddered. "I-I- didn't realize-"

"Be-hav-you're. How does that even sound?"

"It sounds wrong?"

"Are you asking me, or telling me?"

"Telling you?" It came out in the form of a question again and that angered him.

"Sheeezus chr- stop!" He demanded, harshly.

And just like that, the veins in his temple throb, menacingly. He looks at me sharply, and I noticed again, how pronounced his jaw line was. Compared to him, my features are much softer. I had soft, brown hair, and he had dark black hair. I had honey-colored skin. He had ivory skin. My hands were petite and fragile, his were veiny and strong. His body was hard, and mine was soft. But, none of these things had to do with me being a woman, and he a man. It was because this is who were were. I was just softer, and softer spoken. And he was hard, and he spoke often, harshly.

"Get out!" He opened the door, and pointed to the hallway. Why the hell did he call me in here?

I walked out of his office. And I couldn't even scream. Immediately, phone calls were coming in, and I couldn't think straight, after the ordeal in his office. He worked me up, and made me question myself for a moment.

Answering a phone call, and putting it on hold for another. The other being a total shock to me. My father, whom I hadn't heard from in weeks. After he jumped on my mom, his guilt forced him away from us. I'm guessing shame overcame his life. But his leaving us, was for the best.

I stuttered a bit, trying to get my mind right.

"Hello?"

"Bonnie, baby?"

"Daddy? Where are you?"

"I'm... I'm okay."

"It's been while. What's-" sudden interruption by a client in the door. "Hold a second daddy." I look to the woman. "May I help you?"

"Yes, Mr. Salvatore please."

I hear her, and I kindly greet her. "Sure ma'am. Just give me a second." But it was as if she couldn't wait. I went back to my father's call and she begins walking back. "Ma'am!"

"Don't worry. I'll just go back." She said.

"No, you can't do that. How can I help you?"

"Huuuuuuh" she sighed heavily, annoyed by my forcing her to halt movement. "Mr. Salvatore please!" This time she asked more sternly.

"Sure ma'am." I go back to my father on the phone. "Be right back. Hold on." I placed him on hold, and went for Damon. When I got the office he told me to let the client know he wasn't there. Tinge of fear in his eyes. But he was serious. He did not want to see this woman, whoever she was.

"I'm not here." He said from the closet. I'd never seen him this way, it was as if he'd known the woman, and wanted no parts of her. I walk back outside, and let her know.

"He stepped out ma'am. Can I take a message?"

"Yes." She smiled cynically. Then yanked his jacket off the coat rack, tossed it on the ground, and stomped all over it for about 60 seconds. She never dropped her suitcase, or broke character. She stomped it out, and returned a smile, directed at me. "Tell him to sign the got damn settlement." Then she walked out. Just like that. It was bizarre, and unquestionably, uncalled for, but I wasn't concerned for her.

I was still shaken from everything that had happened just minutes before she walked in. I had almost forgotten about my father. I grabbed the phone, "Hello? You still there?" No sound. "Hello, Dad..." he was gone. I grabbed the phone and slammed it into the receiver several times loudly. I was angry. I rarely let out my anger so harshly but this time, it was getting the best of me. "Ahhh." I yelled, forgetting where I was.

SMACK. SMACK. SMACK. Was the sound of the office phone as a slammed it repeatedly, in anger. I immediately went to my purse and grabbed my bag of sacred secrecy. My iodine, my knife, and my cotton. I turned around, not thinking of where I was, opened my leg, and reached to slice a small two inch cut upon my inner thigh. The moment I felt the tingly, loveliness of the blade touching my skin. I was about to be in my own euphoria, with my only form of calm.

Some had cigarettes. Some had alcohol. Some had drugs. Some had exercise. Some had food. Some had sex. Well, I was a virgin who'd done none of those things except swim in my parents pool every summer, and I hardly ever had an appetite. I realize that I made a mistake when I felt eyes piercing me. That's when I turned to see Damon staring directly at me.

Damn.

I avoid all eye contact, toss all of my things in my bag nervously, and proceed to gather my office supplies and get my desk organized as if nothing happened. Only to turn and look up, and he was gone.

This, may be the day I lose the one thing I have that's helping me grow. My job. I panic quietly and continue to work.

I'm diligent.

I tell myself, I'm diligent and hard working. I'm kind, and willing to learn. I convince myself of everything in my head.

He says nothing the rest of my entire shift. And because I never saw him again that day, my anxiety skyrocketed. And again, I held it all in, because my mother was outside waiting.

My mother drives me home every day after work since I started. And I get it. She's lonely, I can tell. Daddy left the night he hit her, and hasn't been back since. Even if she was angry at him, she was now, left with the hurt of his abandonment. "How was your day sweetie?" She asked,

"Good." I lie, remembering it all, being God-awful.

"Really?"

"Mom. Yes." She proceeds to talk and I just keep being reminded of what happened, while I listen to her and my thoughts at the same time. It seems hard, but it isn't after all. I was used to hear two things at once, because I was always lost in my anxiety and the thought stricken anguish it caused me. It becomes easier to hear two things at once, the more you do it.

.x.

That night, Kol picked me up. We went to the laundromat together to do laundry. It was stupid really, but I didn't mind. We ate snacks from the vending machine, and laughed all night. He's a funny guy. And handsome. His humor and joy, made me forget about the anxiety that I had from earlier.

Damon didn't give me anxiety. No. The anxiety came from having to force myself to sort through what happened. Sometimes I just wish Damon would give me the answers. Tell me what and how to do things, like he did the day he tore my apart verbally. The day he let me know I needed to be better. That day, I felt this sense of satisfaction. I felt like I needed his words, and while they were damaging to the average person. For me, I damage myself everyday with my knife. His words were the sense of freedom I needed. And my anxiety came from, trying to figure things out alone.

As we laughed and danced to the intercom music at the "Dollor-o-clean" I felt myself laugh. I don't laugh often, but tonight, Kol made me laugh. Then he turned me and dipped me, and lip sang to oldies. I turned in circles. And I swear I saw Mr. Salvatore come in no get his dry cleaning, but I was so busy with Kol it was hard to tell. And also, maybe, I was hallucinating him, because I couldn't get him off my mind. But I think he saw me, and Kol. And I also think, his seeing us, gave him a visual representation of me outside of myself. Outside of who he sees at work. He stare for minutes. Then he disappeared.

That night, I kissed Kol for the first time. I had never kissed a guy before that night. It was very slow, and sweet. Finally, I'm not alone with my thoughts. I'm laughing at the laundromat with someone who probably needed a good laugh too.

.x.

Days go by without a mention form Damon. He's so busy, and I'm so nervous. Until he calls me into his office.

I stagger over my thoughts trailing into his room with my emotions on my sleeve. I'm ready to go home for the day, but he calls me by the days end, when the office is closed.

"Come in." He pats the seat of his leather sofa. And now, I get it. He smells like leather because of his office sofa and desk chair. His face is so serious and all I see is his internal judgement. Believing he's ready to pick me apart gin, with his criticisms. Give it to me, I can take it. I tell myself.

Nervously I fiddle with my own fingers, and sit.

"Hello, Ms. Bennett."

"Mr. Salvatore."

"Do you know why I've called you in here?"

"No, Mr. Salvatore."

He proceeded to question me on my ignorant knowledge as if I was a child. I didn't realize back then why he did it. I never understood. But he did. He understood me, sometimes, when I didn't understand myself. We beat around the bush for minutes before he looked at me, and pointed to the office phone.

"Grab the phone Ms. Bennett."

"Why?"

"Grab it." I grab it. "Now, its ringing. What do you say?" He asked calmly.

Quietly I speak, "Hello. This is the office of Mr.-"

"No, No. Listen to me. I hired you, and you told me you had experience answering phones."

"I do."

"Well, did you get enough sleep?"

"I-I did-"

"Then try it again."

"Hello, this is the office-"

"Louder. That voice is too silent. I mean, this is an office. Brrrrriiiiiiiiiinnnng. Bbbbbrrrrriiiiingg!" He pretend to be a phone. "Answer it. With confidence. "Brrrriiiiinnnnnng."

My voice pitch deepens, and is stronger. "Hello, this is the office, of Mr. D. Damon Salvatore." I say proudly.

"Exactly." He gently grinned for seconds and stopped. "Perfect. After all I'm not running a mortuary."

Did he actually tell a joke? I laughed with him for the first time since working here. A couple months, this is the first smile he has ever smiled. But it was short lived when he walked me back to his couch to sit down again. I feel myself being sucked into this dark feeling and I scoot away from him. He stares at me before speaking and it's not the same as when Kol stares at me. It's intimidating in ways and needy in other ways. Suddenly, I don't know how to feel about him.

"Bonnie, did you have a date recently? At a laundromat?"

How do I answer that, without swallowing and blinking confused? "Uhh, yes."

"With whom did you have a date?"

"Umm, Kol." I giggled, stupidly.

"Kol?" He nods. "Did you and Kol have sex?" Even though he asked seriously, I couldn't take it seriously. I started to cackle like a little school girl, covering my face. All the while he's being absolutely serious without so much as a smile. "No?"

"I don't know." It was so funny to me I broke eye contact and laughed at the ground, like a blithering idiot.

"Are you shy, Bonnie? I'm shy."

"You're not shy. You're a lawyer." I pointed out. But still, he didn't smile, or twitch. He was serious.

"I am shy. I just overcome my shyness, in order to get things done."

I soften back up, leaving my giggle in the dust. "I don't think your shy." And then as we stare eye to eye, just inches from one another, he continues to be honest with me.

"Bonnie, I'm going to be frank with you. Now I know, I'm your boss, and we have a professional relationship. But you should... you should feel free to discuss your issues with me." I felt like he needed me in those moments, to be honest. "Bonnie, what's going on with all of the bandages?"

So, he saw the tiny bandages under my skirt, and I tugged at it, to cover my legs more. "I'm shy." We said together.

"Would you like some hot chocolate?"

"Okay?" And just like that, he leaned over and handed me an already made cup of hot chocolate. It's as if he recognized how he wanted to comfort me, somehow.

"Why, do you cut yourself Ms. Bennett?"

I look down at the floor, voiding the only sentence his eyes want to grant me. He's the judge and jury right now. Possibly the executioner, depending on where this goes. He sits up next to me on the leather couch. The sound of the leather sounds like a rope around my worst pinching the skin as it's twisted. I can smell his cologne. It's strong, but soft. He turns slightly towards me, leaned over elbows on his knees, hands clasped at the knuckles. Veiny, strong hands. Very powerful hands.

"I don't know. Mr. Salvatore." Parts of me want to slap him, simply because he babies me in conversations. I want to tell him, exactly how I feel, but I need this job. So, I'd rather keep infantizing my habits.

"Is it because sometimes the pain has to come to the surface, and when you see evidence of the pain inside, you know that you're real. Then when you watch the wound heal it's comforting? Isn't it..."

"That's...I-... that's a way to put it." I felt this new connection to him. Past the demented one we'd created in this tension filled work environment. But a newly discovered, ring of hope, of someone caring about something, about me.

"I'm going to tell you something, right now. Something you need to hear. Are you listening?" I nodded my head, diligently. See? I'm diligent. "Listen carefully, to me. You will never cut yourself again. Do you hear me?" He spoke softly, and it was as if I had no choice but to believe his word as binding. "You are past that, and you won't do that ever again. Do I make myself clear?"

My eyes were glued to his, and somehow, very submissively, I nodded my head. And I believed, in those moments, this man sees me. He sees... me. Not around me or through me, but me. "Yes."

"Never again." He repeated.

"Okay."

"Now, you know what I want you to do?" I just sat there with my eyes glued to his lips. "Leave work early. You're a big girl. A grown woman. You're mother doesn't need to pick you up every day. I want you to take a nice walk home, in the fresh air. Because you require relief. And you won't be doing that anymore, will you?"

"No Sir."

"Good." He then took a Polaroid of me. Somehow we, were we now. Connected. Not in the way most people are connected. And I did what he said. And the fact that he commanded these things softly or gave me permission, I was able to walk away from work today, freely. I felt like he was with me, holding me on this journey. And while, I was open to his command, he felt something growing inside of him, that I don't believe he's ever had before. And I'm sure it was because of me.

...

No, iodine, or scissors today. I was optimistic about change. I was having a rather good day at work today. Nothing could, or should go wrong. Until I'd made another typing mistake. He stormed into my tiny work space, and slammed his hand on my desk with a letter I had typed up, with a large red circle on it, and put his mouth all the way to the side of my face, next to my ear., as he stood behind me. I could feel the temperature of his breath against my skin, making the hairs on my face and neck rise, with chills.

"All you have to GOT DAMN do, is TYPE and ANSWER PHONES. How hard is that?"

"I'm... I'm sorry."

"What is wrong with you?"

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize to me."

"What goes on in the head of yours?" He demanded. I'm confused because just yesterday, we had a moment. A really intimate moment. I'm conflicted inside, so I don't answer. And he in his rage, stormed away. At that moment, I couldn't breath, and the only sound in the office was me sniffling. Not crying, just sniffling. The sound he loathed. He stopped in his tracks and turned around, and I could feel it. I turned to him, and he was leaning his arm against the wall, irritated. "Come into my office. And bring that letter."

He disappeared quickly, and that meant I needed to move quickly. I nearly jogged to get to his office, and once inside, the large expensive wooden door slowly closed shut. To this day, I can never forget, that the sound of the heavy door shutting was daunting. So much changed that day. I stare at him, b he almost pierced me with his sharp glare.

"I want you to go to my desk. Put the letter on it, bend over so that your face is directly above the letter and read the letter aloud." He spoke lowly.

"I don't understand."

"There's nothing to understand. It's very simple Ms. Bennett. I want you," he pointed to me, "to put the letter on that desk," he pointed again, "bend over with your face close to and directly above the letter, and recite it."

I did as I was told. Slowly, walked to the desk with his eyes focused on me. I placed the letter onto the desk, and put both of my hands from the elbow to the wrist onto the desk directly next to the letter, bent down, and started reciting it. I felt him walk directly behind my bent over body.

Dear Mr. Saltzman,

I'm grateful to you for referring me (SMACK!)

He caught me by surprise. I stopped and stare at absolute nothingness as I felt the remnants of the sting, vibrate me to my core, of his hand smacking my ass, as I proceeded to read this letter. I turned to look at him, stunned. And he looked just as stunned as I felt. And somehow, he seemed scared too.

"Umm..."

"Continue." He whispered. "Ms. Bennett, read."

I revert back slowly to the paper to read. "For referring me to your case (SMACK!)" trying to catch my breath, I continue. "The study of animal research has been of interest to me for sometime, and my secretary has prepared research (SMACK!)" his hand was hard, and rough, and strong, "material that I think you will find illuminating. If you will (SMACK!) be so kind as to send my the June 5th letter of which we spoke, my Associates and I will (SMACK!) review it immediately. Please feel free to call me at your earlier convenience.

Yours sincerely,

D. Damon (SMACK!) Salvatore

My boss just spanked me.

As if I was a child, he sparked me and loved it. And I wasn't sure how to feel. But I know it must've been wrong, that it was some for, of sadistic nourishment to me.

As I was finally able to catch my bearings and my breath, I wanted to cry. It felt like I had never been hit a day in my life, and suddenly, I was a pile of softened mush under his stance, while my ass was lit on fire by the deliverance of his palm, to the back of my skirt. He didn't just slap it. He hit it, with the full strength of a man.

I'm looking around to see if this is real. His office, or is it some dystopian mirage of a woman insane, who'd cut herself one too many times, and the loss of blood damaged my brain, creating hallucinogenic after thoughts of a pain greater than a simple cut. But I knew it was real, when he mumbled... "Read it again."

I paused for several moments and read it again. This time, I'd have to be honest and say that his hand landed on my ass almost every other word this time. He just smacked and smacked and smacked away, until he and I were both out of breath. I was sweating and so was he, when he collapsed over my body. His hand palmed the desk next to mine, and we were breathing heavily. I felt his thumb brisk the side of my hand, caressing it in need. But, when I went to touch his hand back, with my pinky finger. He stood up, adjusted himself, and left me a bent over mess on his desk.

I still needed to catch the breath I'd lost as he had spanked my ass, like a child on punishment. He walked slowly to the chair of his desk, directly in front of me. Adjusted his tie, looked me dead in my eyes and said, "Now straighten yourself up, and go type it again."

I walked out of his office, and to the office bathroom slowly, pulled my skirt up, my panty hose, and panties down, and saw the purple bruise that covered my ass cheek.

While it was eight shades darker than my skin, and shining to a sensational degree, I was incredibly turned on. The eroticism of it all, forced me re-examine my sexuality, and decided what it meant to me, to be spanked in such a way. My father didn't even hit my mother that hard. And as I stare at the bruises of his stinging hand prints on my ass, I felt a sense of pride for having busted this man open.

All over the misspelling of the word illuminating.

I took my time, and an hour later walked a newly typed letter to him. When I brought it to his desk he didn't even look back at me. Or acknowledge my entering his office. I sat it down, and he kept reading through his paper work, as if I didn't exist.

This man is a myriad of confusion. And yet, I can't make myself stay away. Two hours later, he walks into the fax room where I was and politely said, "Nice work on the letter, Ms. Bennet." And walked away and that was that.

For the next few months our professional friendship would take some rocky twists and turns. I was not on,y his secretary but his personal assistant. I'd keep seeing Kol, and finally lose my virginity to him. My sex life would thrive because of this. Kol and I had sex all of the time, but I would imagine my bosses hand on my ass every time. He told me what to wear, what to eat, when to eat, how long to sleep, how much to eat, and I was basically, everything to him. And he was everything to me.

Some how, we functioned, just fine.

Until he realized my reliance on him was as strong as his was on me. Then he ended things between us, and fired me.

Then he changed the locks on the office, ignored all my calls, and made me prove to him that I Loved him, and that what we did was normal... for us. He thought we were sick and twisted at first. But, I guess because of my previous lack of control, before him, I'd known what we had was powerful enough to make me realize it birthed power inside of me. And as my dominant, even with all his control, he felt himself losing it, because of what we had, was something he was afraid of. And my first feel of power no his first feel of weakness, is how I knew what we had was real. And normal. Dominant/submissive relationships dynamics are the ones, where the balance of power is such trickery, sometimes the dominant can feel their own submission, and the submissive can feel their own dominance. Even though, I love being submissive and he loves dominating. It's quite vexing, but quite beautiful.

The interviewer looks at Bonnie, and squints a questionable eye at her.

.. Present Day ..

"That was I teliggiently articulted. And probably one of the most honest explanations I've ever heard."

"It's the truth. That's why."

"When would you say, you came to this realization, that how much you two relied on one another, and that you functioned just fine?"

"Oh, well, it would be a while. The fact that we'd never had sex at that point, eventually made me think."

"And now?"

"Well... we are married now. But, at that point neither of realized this was what we wanted. Sure there was an age difference. But, we both had this torment inside of us, which neither of us understood, until we'd met."

"Right! And what's your advice to couples just getting into this, that have no idea what they're doing?"

"I'd honestly say not to be afraid. Go for it. Realize it's what you want and try it. You can only know, if you try. But most importantly, it requires absolute trust, and love. So, don't neglect each other. You really have to want to be in this for the other person, not just yourself."

"Wow. And would you say D/s or bdsm is the same for all couples?"

"Absolutely not. Some people, do this part time for kink. Some do this for a job, or hobby. But, us... this is a lifestyle commitment. We live this way twenty-four-seven. This is, who we are. It's not a charade or a game."

"Right. And how... how do you come to terms with always giving him control? I mean, don't you ever want control?"

"I get my control. People have is misconception, that being. Submissive to my husband means, I'm just... without my own mind, thoughts, and needs. No, I fulfill everything he wants and needs. And his dominance, over me, makes him psychologically subservient to me. You can only truly dominate someone, if they allow you to. They have to give you total trust, and in return, you have to be exactly what they need."

"Makes sense."

"And if you're looking for some generic answer, that the mundane Vanilla readers want to here, then, from time to time, I switch. Rarely, but it happens. Secretly, he loves it. But... I love his control, and he loves my diligence. I'm actually turned on by it."

"Have you two had any rough patches?"

"Of course. We are, a normal couple. Ups and downs. Just like you and your significant other. Just add in some orgasm control, and edging. Some spankings, and bondage ties. We both work. We both provide for our household. We even have a child.

"Wait! What? A child? How does this work?"

"Well, Sir!"

"Ahem." My Sir cleared his threat from the side, of the room, while the interviewer sat across from Me. It was his way of quietly correcting me.

"I mean, well, Mr. Gilbert." I look at my husband. "Permission to speak like a rotten girl, Sir."

"Granted baby."

"Are you a father Mr. Gilbert."

"I am. I have three children."

I then explain myself. "I made a mistake of calling you Sir a few minutes ago. He's my Sir. He didn't like that very much. Which is prompting his impatience. But to answer your question. How do you fuck your wife? Do you do it in front of your children? When you sit with her and converse, do you speak sexually in front of your children?"

"No."

"Well, understand, anything we do that is inappropriate for our child, we keep private likemosr sensical parents would. Husbands and wives have privacy, and there's nothing wrong with it. I love my husband, and I take care of him. Our child always sees that. He also sees his father take care of me, and pamper me. We are a loving couple. And because we care so much about one another's needs, we are able to show our child what a loving marriage is."

"I see. Well, as I've said before, I am not here to judge you. This is a very intelligent way to view and accommodate a well-reciprocated relationship, as it appears. You are the third married couple I've interviewed who's been together for over ten years, in a dominant submissive relationship."

"Ahem." My husband clears his throat again. I turn to him, and he's so suave, with his suit on. He look at his watch, and back at me.

"Well, Mr. Gilbert, we S hould get going."

"Wait, we just, I mean a few more questions, Ms. Bennett."

"It's Mrs. Salvatore." I look at my husband, and again, he says nothing, just gives me a knowing face. A face, of impatience that I know, all too well. "Sorry. We have to go. We have a child and a sitter to get home too."

"Okay, maybe we can-"

"Mr Gilbert. I believe my wife said, we were done." My Sir stood up, and put his hand out for me, and helped me up. I looked at Mr Gilbert and said my last thoughts.

"Mr. Gilbert. I started this conversation today, with 10 certainties of myself from the day I met My Sir. And all these years, later, those things, that I knew back then, have changed. And ten things new certainties remain for the past decade.

I went in for a temp job, and now I run me and my husband's non-profit charitable committee.

I came out, with the lesson of my life.

One, I'm no longer naive, the world has is my oyster.

Two, I am no longer a girl, but a woman.

Three, I'm organized.

Four, I'm disciplined.

Five, I have my shit together.

Six, I'm no longer in a painful place, unless it comes with a session of pampering afterwards. I playfully wink at my Sir.

Seven, I haven't felt alone, since I met my husband.

Eight, I am no longer invisible. I'm powerful.

Nine, I'm mo longer numb. feel everything, times ten. Thanks to being with a man who spends his life, loving me, the way I deserve.

And ten, I've still never dealt with anyone quite like my husband." I offer a wink, and smile. "Have a good afternoon, Mr. Gilbert."

We walked out of the journalists office with our morals in tact. He patted my ass, firmly, gripping the lower as fat on the last pat. "You did very good today baby."

"Thank you Sir. That grant me any rewards?"

"Yes. But it's a surprise." He said, walking down the street, holding my hand looking straight forward, giving me little eye contact.

"I love surprises." He lovingly squeezes my hand.

"What she we do for dinner tonight? I'm giving you, your choice, since your cravings are out of this world these days."

"Good. In that case, I want you to cook for me. Because me, and this baby, are craving some Fettuccini Alfredo, and Peanut Butter and Jelly." He squinted, trying not to be disgusted. "Not together, silly."

"Oh, Good." He laughs. One of the beautiful rare things. "Foot rub, or belly rub?"

"Both."

"Bed time story, or bed time song?"

"Bedtime poem." I murmured as he opened my car door. He leaned in and kissed me.

"He probably would have shit himself, knowing we had baby number two on the way, and still manage to be all in. That I still spank you, at four months pregnant. That, in the depth of your soul, you beg for me to do awful things to you."

"Imagine if he asked about the way we play, with ropes and cuffs still."

"Imagine if you never found that Help Wanted! ad."

"Imagine if you didn't type it."

"Imagine if we didn't meet."

"I can't imagine that world." He stood before me, fixing my blouse, and adjusting some loose tendrils of my hair. He always was a perfectionist. Especially when it came to me.

"Honestly, I'm glad people don't get it. Because once people catch on. They will ruin it." I sat down, and he closed my door. He walked around and got inside the car. "Lay your seat back baby. Take a nap. We have a long ride."

"I'd like to keep you company, Sir."

"Baby, lay back. That's an order. Take a nap. I'll wake you in an hour."

"I can't relax. That interview has me all jittery."

He looked at me, giving me that knowing stare, and the corner of his mouth perched up in a smirk, that only he'd ever delivered towards me, and had only started doing once he met me. He laid my seat back, and right in the parking lot, he leaned over, and used his hand to spread my thighs. "Open up for Me."

I yearned for those soft, but firm demands. From his soft lips, followed by firm kisses.

"Yes, Sir. But-"

"Shhh. I'm going to help you go to sleep, just lay back, and let Daddy do his thing." He lifted my leg slightly, and when I put my hands to block him from entering me, he shook his head at me, knowing damn well, I will get sleepy as soon as I cum. "Tst tst. Don't ever question me."

We were each other's first, and only dominant and submissive experience. We are molded to each other's tastes and preferences. And I'd have it no other way.

So, for anyone thinking there was OOC moments, for example Bonnie cutting herself, that came from the Character in the movie, and it was too important a storyline to take out. But, compare those moments to like Self-Sacrificing Bonnie, and it won't seem so ooc. Also, sorry for any errors! Anyway, thanks you for reading :) Happy Easter.