by Celeste Fall
Whips and Chains
Billionaire & Virgin Romance
By Celeste Fall
©Copyright 2017 by
Celeste Fall - All rights
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Synopsis
As a teenager, growing up dirt dirt-poor, beautiful, brainy Tracie Rutherford knew education was her ticket out of this Skunk’s Hollow cycle of poverty. Consequently, she developed a reputation as an ‘“ice maiden’..” But her hard work paid off in the shape of a full scholarship to the University of Georgia. Meeting handsome, charismatic billionaire, Jamie Spelling, seemed like a dream come true. Still a virgin, Tracie’s first sexual experienced with her seasoned lover was mind-blowing. Jamie’s mother’s disapproval of this “trollop” who had forced her way into their family was palpable. She was simply “not their kind.”. But Tracie’s honest, eager attitude won the hearts of Jamie’s grandmother, Audra Spelling, and her companion, bold, brassy, billionaire rancher, Lottie Chambers. When Jamie’s sexual fantasies and his demands made Tracie realize she was merely a commodity to please her husband’s rich clients, she sought the help of these two women who helped her realize her potential.
Chapter One: Not in My Backyard
Thirty-one-year-old Tracie Spellman pushed her artfully- streaked blonde hair out of her eyes and reached blindly for the snooze Snooze button on her annoyingly persistent alarm clock. Her head throbbed. Her body ached. It even hurt to open and close her eyes.
With a groan, she rolled over. That’s when she noticed the blood-streaked sheets and the stickiness between her legs.
What the hell happened last night?
While she was trying to collect her senses and her recollections, a sharp knock sounded at the door. Tracie squinted at the clock. Her head pounded.
8:04
Christ! Who’d be bothering her at this hour?
The door opened and in whisked her secretary, Avril Steele. Her Prada shoes clicked purposefully on the shiny oak floor as she bustled briskly across the spacious room to Tracie’s bedside. She fixed her steely gray eyes on Tracie’s disheveled appearance and sniffed in distain. Tracie was pretty sure her prim British assistant could smell sex in the air around her.
“What do you want, Avril?” Tracie groaned. She knew her assistant’s presence at this hour couldn’t be a good sign.
“Madame,” Avril began, glancing pointedly at her watch, “when Master Jamie left for work over an hour ago, he asked me to wake you and remind you of your meeting with Mrs. Chambers at nine.”
“Oh, no!” Tracie groaned. “ Is that today?” The pounding in her head increased to jackhammer intensity.
“Well, this is July 8, so, yes, the meeting is today,” Avril replied patiently, as if she were talking to a three-year-old.
Tracie hated Avril’s condescending attitude. The efficient, yet irritating, forty-year-old had not been Tracie’s choice. She hadn’t wanted an assistant at all. But if she was forced to hire one, she wanted someone who was younger and more fun. But, Jamie, as always, had the last word. He insisted that his attractive wife needed someone who would “keep her on track” and “establish a routine” in Tracie’s life. In other words, someone to whom Tracie would be accountable when Jamie was at work.
When Tracie and Jamie had met at college and fallen in love, the poor girl from the wrong side of the tracks in her small southern Alabama town of Skunk’s Hollow had had no idea how wide a gap separated their lives.
Tracie was in for her first rude awakening when Jamie brought her home to his massive Montgomery estate. Her mind travelled back while Avril strode to her closet to select an appropriate outfit for her meeting.
With a quiet groan, Tracie gathered the soiled sheets around her and headed for the shower. She had no energy for sparring with meddlesome Lottie Chambers today.
Why did does Jamie get her involved in these touchy issues? she wondered. Or, is this the work of his mother?
When she’d met the intimidating Marilyn Spellman, it had been hate at first sight. The dark-haired, statuesque matriarch had left nothing to the imagination. She loathed Tracie’s mere existence.
And as for this little gold digger ever being part of her my family? Never! Charity might begin at home, but not in her my son’s bedroom! according to Marilyn.
All efforts on Jamie’s part to negotiate a truce between the two women he loved most fell on unresponsive ears. Marilyn Spellman might be the undisputed champion of fundraisers for local food banks and homeless shelters. But when it came to her family? She didn’t care a fig about how Tracie had pulled herself out of the slums and graduated top of her class at Emory. She would never be welcome under Marilyn’s roof. All Jamie’s eloquent pleading to his mother to put herself in Tracie’s shoes had no effect on Marilyn. Her mind was made up. This girl was bad news, and the sooner Jamie came to his senses and dumped her, the better!
To be fair, Tracie admitted, she and Jamie’s mother and her did not get off on the right foot when Marilyn burst into Jamie’s bedroom and found Tracie on her knees in front of Jamie, performing fellatio. Two nights in widely- separated bedrooms had taken their toll on the pair accustomed to sleeping together at Emory. They were merely getting reacquainted and letting off some pent- up sexual steam.
Marilyn didn’t see it that way. She was convinced Tracie was a low-life, promiscuous woman who would fall upon whatever was put in front of her. The Spellman wealth was not going to become this girl’s opportunity, if Marilyn had anything to say about it. She had pretty socialite Tiffany King in her sights, as soon as she could make her son see things sensibly. Tiffany would be a fine match. She was their kind of people!
So the two women gave each other a wide berth. Jamie never took Tracie home again, until she was wearing his grandmother’s diamond engagement ring. There was nothing Marilyn Spellman could do except pitch a fit. The three-carat diamond belonged to Jamie’s paternal grandmother, Audra Spellman, who adored Tracie and was thrilled to pass on the family heirloom to her only grandson and his bride-to-be. Marilyn did a slow burn and waited for the right moment to rid the family of this white trash.
Audra also insisted upon hosting and paying for the wedding. Tracie was torn. She hadn’t been home or talked to her parents since she graduated from high school. She wanted them to know she was doing well, but she didn’t want to rub their noses in her success. Although they could make the trip to Audra’s mansion in Montgomery, it was unlikely that they’d even consider it. They wouldn’t know how to dress, how to act, or how to talk to these people. Meeting her parents would give Marilyn Spellman further fuel to highlight the gap between Jamie and Tracie. The Spellmans and the Rutherfords were as different as two sides of a coin, as sharply contrasting as black and white, as likely to hit it off as fire and gas. It was a disaster waiting to happen! Tracie had worked so hard to rid herself of the stench of Skunk’s Hollow. She was reluctant to bring the two disparate sides of her life together. She’d moved on and worked hard to make a new life for herself.
Chapter Two: Avril’s Dilemma
As she gathered the ripped, soiled sheet around her and headed to the bathroom, Tracie could hear Avril’s muttering in the cavernous walk-in closet where she was selecting the ‘“least inappropriate’ inappropriate” outfit for Tracie to wear to this important meeting with Lottie Chambers. She paused for a moment, wondering if she should shoo Avril out of her c
loset. Then, with a shrug and an evil little smile, she continued on her way to the bathroom. “Let the old bat think whatever she wants,” Tracie muttered.
Avril saw her job as a daily battle of wills to try to mold the reluctant Tracie into the family representative Marilyn and Alan Spellman would have wanted for their son and heir to Spellman Investments. She’d been at it ever since Tracie had become Jamie’s bride at age twenty-eight. But, so far, it was a losing battle. The Spellmans had offered Avril handsome financial incentives for whipping their daughter-in-law into shape. In a battle of wills, Avril was usually up for the challenge. But, it seemed that she’d met her match. Tracie wasn’t like the other pampered, spoiled little rich girls whom Avril had been sent to dispatch after Master Jamie had awakened to find the inconvenient conquest resting her head on his shoulder. Tracie was a tough nut with street smarts. Clearly, she had no notion of being spirited away by the intimidating Avril. This girl had substance. Avril was grudgingly appreciative of her backbone—if not her manners or her deplorable taste in clothing.
True, the Spellmans had won a battle when Avril was chosen as the new Mrs. Spellman’s secretary. There was no doubt that she’d never have been Tracie’s choice. Avril knew she wasn’t young enough or hip enough or fun enough to suit Tracie. The young blonde acted like a teenager. She had no idea what her role should be—nor did she seem to care. And as for Master Jamie? He was so smitten—fuck struck, Avril thought to herself—that he couldn’t see how his wife’s attitude was hurting his reputation and that of the company. Spellman Financial could not afford a false step. Avril had heard Jamie and his father discussing some bad investments and their need to woo new clients and offer incentives to their present clients to stay. She knew that, if the company hoped to stay afloat, the Spellmans had to do some fancy manipulating. Frankly, Avril did not see the new Mrs. Spellman as an asset in that department.
However, Avril knew how important it was for Tracie to make a good impression on Lottie Chambers. Tracie seemed unaware or unconcerned about how much was riding on this meeting. Avril shook her head in dismay as she scrutinized Tracie’s wardrobe. Nothing here spoke of business and good breeding. At best, the clothes were frivolous. And at worst, they were simply poorly designed and bad fashion sense.
As she worked her way down the rows of clothing arranged in no particular order, Avril made a note to return to the closet and establish some order with the maid who picked up after Tracie dropped her clothes anywhere. She had just about come to the end of the massive closet when her hand hit a leather garment in the dark corner. When she pulled it off the rod, she gasped in horror. Hanging from a padded hanger was a black leather bustier. In a box below it, she discovered thigh-high black leather boots and a whip with braided lashes that ended in metal studs. What appeared to be blood coated several of the studs.
Avril pulled back her hand as if she’d been burned. What on earth is this girl playing at?
Unable to resist, Avril plunged her hand farther into the box. The next item she pulled out was a set of fur-lined handcuffs. There were a handful of silk scarves in various stages of wrinkle and knot. Out came a giant purple feather. Then, in the very bottom of the box, Avril extracted a pair of shiny black leather gloves. Examining them closely, she noted a greasy substance, which looked suspiciously like Vaseline, coated the palms and fingers. Avril shuddered and swallowed deep breaths to keep from being sick.
What on earth were these two up to? she wondered. She recalled the blood-stained sheet, which appeared to have slits cut into its Egyptian cotton threads. Images rose unbidden to her troubled mind.
Should she I report this to the Spellmans? Should she I mention it to Master Jamie? Was he part of this, or were the things she’d I found part of Tracie’s sordid past?
Avril decided to do nothing until she knew more about what was going on. This might have been a costume for a masquerade. Rich people had strange diversions. She quickly snapped photos of the garments and the other paraphernalia with her phone.
Then, with a sigh, she chose the least objectionable of Tracie’s outfits and left it on a chair by the bathroom door.
Chapter Three: Like a Virgin
Hot water flowed over Tracie’s aching body. With a soft washcloth, she probed the depths of her core, wincing as her sweet spot proved to be anything else but sweet. As she lathered her body and hair with the rich lavender products she liked, she tried to recreate the events of the night before.
She recalled a loud party and far too much champagne. She remembered someone—it might have been Jamie—feeding her toast points piled high with beluga caviar. She knew she’d washed it down with the finest vodka money could buy.
She had no idea how she’d gotten to bed or who had undressed her.
Where were herare my clothes? Had sheDid I hung hang them up?
She had a foggy idea of whips and chains and four-inch high heels on hip-high boots with spurs.
Had sheDid I dreamed all this? If so, why were are the sheets blood- smeared? Had the sex been that rough? She didn’t think so. Sure, she was sore. But there were no lacerations.
Then, who had bled on the sheets?
With a contented smile, Tracie recalled her first meeting with Jamie. She was majoring in political science, and Jamie was getting a business degree. Their programs both required introductory economics and statistics. Tracie noticed the handsome, auburn-haired hunk with the surfer’s body. He’d glanced at her, his startling green eyes sweeping over her. After their first economics seminar, he’d introduced himself and invited her for coffee. They’d talked about everything: new movies, music they enjoyed, books they’d read. They laughed over classmates’ bizarre behavior. Jamie had her in stitches when he mimicked their professors.
When Jamie walked her back to her dorm, he’d leaned in and placed a butterfly-light kiss on her forehead. “See you tomorrow, Tracie Rutherford,” he’d called back over his shoulder.
The next day, he’d called to ask her to work on a statistics assignment together. Tracie was so smitten with the gorgeous, popular boy with the killer smile that she could scarcely wait to get to class each day.
There followed a whirlwind romance. In the city no longer than she had been, Jamie seemed to know the in places. They ate in some amazing Atlanta restaurants, attended sporting events, concerts, and theater.
They went for long drives in the BMW coup his parents had given him for graduation and engaged in some heavy petting that steamed up the windows of the baby blue automobile. “Your first time is going to be memorable,” Jamie told her one night when they both withdrew, panting with longing.
“How—how did you know I’m a virgin?” she asked. “Oh, no! I’m a complete novice, aren’t I?”
“No!” Jamie assured her. “You give head very enthusiastically.”
“Then I kiss like a six-year-old!” Tracie wailed.
“Of course not!” Jamie assured her, planting kisses on her nose, her chin, and her forehead. “Your kisses send me to take cold showers.”
“Then what gave me away?” she asked sadly.
“Promise you won’t get mad?” Jamie demanded.
“Just tell me,” Tracie snapped.
“Well,” Jamie continued, “I’ve never met a girl who creamed her pants just sitting beside me. It’s very flattering. I promise, your first time will be mind-blowing.”
Jamie had been as good as his word. They’d dined at an expensive Atlanta steakhouse complete with flowers at the table, a violinist to serenade them, and champagne.
The champagne had made Tracie sneeze. She was giddy after the second glass.
Then they’d walked up the street, arms around one another, to a posh hotel where Jamie had reserved the bridal suite. They’d feasted on chocolate-covered strawberries and more champagne as they soaked in the heart-shaped hot tub. Then, they’d taken a shower in the enormous walk-in shower stall, where they’d lathered each other with eucalyptus shower gel. Jamie explored every crevice of her bod
y and dried every inch of her throbbing body with a fluffy white towel.
Then, in spite of her pleading, Jamie had patiently and thoroughly caressed, kissed, and suckled every part of her body. When she was a squealing mass of hormones, Jamie began what could only be called cock teasing, inserting his throbbing member into Tracie an inch and then pulling out. This went on for what seemed like hours as Tracie clutched and raked his back and thrust herself at him. The final thrust was such a relief that Tracie scarcely noticed the pain or the bleeding.
Their lovemaking extended well into the night. Tracie just couldn’t get enough of this heady new experience, and Jamie, in his sexual prime, was literally up for the task.
Afterward, Jamie gently sponged her throbbing crotch and covered her with a sheet. He planted gentle kisses on her face and whispered, “Good night, princess.’”
When Tracie awoke the next morning, Jamie had breakfast waiting. She quickly brushed her teeth, took a quick shower, and surveyed herself in the mirror. Her skin glowed and she could not wipe the smile off her face.
