======== Path: news.alt.net!qz!not-for-mail From: dbetger@tiac.net (Donnie B.) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Subject: {A.S.S.} NEW! Owning Corey (A different sort of D/S story) Part 1 of 9 Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Date: 29 Jul 1997 22:36:14 GMT Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Lines: 203 Approved: Message-ID: <2382eli$9707291833@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: Xref: news.alt.net alt.sex.stories.moderated:4671 alt.sex.stories:290961 Message from the author: Please don't read this story. You're far too young and it's got grown-up stuff in it. If you read it, you could get in trouble, and so could I, and then I wouldn't be able to post more stories for you not to read. This work of fiction is the property of its author and may not be used for profit without written permission. Otherwise, you may reproduce and distribute it unmodified, or place it in an electronic archive, if this notice is attached. Owning Corey Fiction Copyright (c) 1997 by Don Boettger 1. The first time I met Corey I thought she was the most attractive woman I'd ever seen. Five minutes later I wasn't so sure. I was on a business trip, meeting with a potential new distributor in the Southwest region. Jack Smith (right, it's a phony name) wanted our product, and my boss wanted his business. So I was in Phoenix being wined and dined. Jack brought along his "girlfriend", as he introduced her. He called her Missy. Later I'd find out that wasn't her real name. Missy was the kind of woman who makes you understand the word 'covet'. She was fairly tall, slender, and wore her honey-blonde hair in a sort of Prince Valiant cut. She was young, probably mid-twenties, and dressed to the nines in a tight black dress that plunged in front and soared to indecent heights below. Her makeup was minimal, but she didn't need more. She wore no jewelry except a simple gold choker necklace, but those blue-green eyes were lovelier than any gems. Still, moments after the introduction I began to wonder. I saw those incredible eyes for all of half a second before she dropped them. Shy, I thought. Then we were led to our table, and Jack walked ahead of me, with Missy bringing up the rear. Jack didn't seat her, so I did, and she seemed surprised and somewhat embarrassed. Jack frowned at me, but said nothing. The conversation was another surprise. There was no small talk, no getting-acquainted. Jack acted as if Missy wasn't even there. He dived into details of the business relationship, a conversation I entered reluctantly. From time to time I glanced over at Missy, but she seemed to be fascinated by the napkin in front of her. When the waiter came, Jack ordered for her. Just a salad, no entree, no wine. The whole meal went like that. Missy was about as much a part of the conversation as the candle on the table. Once I tried to draw her out, and it led to a truly odd exchange. As her salad was delivered, I asked, "Are you a vegetarian, Missy?" She glanced up at me in surprise, started to answer, then shut her mouth and turned to Jack. He glared at her, frowning, then saw me watching. He turned back to Missy and gave a little nod. "No," she said in a near-whisper, and dropped her eyes. Her jaw worked again, and I thought she might say more, but then she just froze up. This was more than shyness, obviously. I'd begun to come up with theories. Maybe they were going through a rough time, on the verge of breaking up. Maybe he was abusive. I could believe that, from Jack's personality. He wasn't one to compromise, or ignore any challenge, real or imagined. Or maybe they'd had an argument earlier, and Missy just didn't want to be there. The rest of the evening was a bust. Jack dominated the conversation, trying to sell himself and get his distributorship. I was distracted and noncommittal. Missy was silent. It was a mercy when the waiter returned Jack's card and we got up to leave. "Why don't we all go back to my place for a nightcap?" Jack suggested. My first reaction was to accept, but then I caught a glimpse of Missy's face. She was horrified, and not hiding it at all. She leaned over to Jack and whispered urgently in his ear. His face spread into a smile, the first real smile I'd seen him give, but I didn't like it. It was the sort of smile you'd see on a little boy who was pulling the wings off a fly. "I'm pretty tired, jet lag and all," I said, looking at Jack but watching Missy's face out of the corner of my eye. Those words transformed her. She looked like a saint, an angel. Like a dog that had just been scratched in her favorite spot. Jack said, "Oh, I insist. Just for a few minutes. It's not far." This time I looked at her directly. There was no mistaking the crestfallen expression. I said, "Is it okay with you, Missy?" "Yes." Her pleading eyes made her words a lie. I looked back at Jack, but I couldn't think of any reason to decline. Off we went in Jack's big Caddy, with Missy in the back alone. I turned around once and saw a gleam on her cheek. She was crying silently. Jack's home was a snazzy Southwestern hacienda, adobe-walled rooms surrounding an open court. He took me around proudly, displaying his tasteless art collection and furnishings. We'd lost Missy just after coming in, and I was hoping she'd found a place to hide. I didn't like Jack's mood. No such luck. Jack led me back to the great room, and there she was. Naked. Kneeling. Eyes down. A collar on her neck where the choker had been. Tears streaming down her face. "Jack," I said. "What the fuck." That smile was back. "Missy's very affectionate, aren't you, Missy?" "Yes, Master," she whispered. "I didn't hear you." "Yes, Master," she said in a croaking voice. "Missy, you will spend the night with my friend here. Do anything he tells you to." "Yes, Master." "Jack, hold on a second. This is nuts. I mean, 'Master'? You can't treat a woman this way." Jack scowled, and his hands balled into fists. "Sure I can. Missy likes it, don't you, Missy?" "Yes, Master," came her mantra. "And if she misbehaves, well, we have ways of correcting that. Stand up, girl, and turn around." Missy rose to her feet, a bit unsteady. She turned. Her back, buttocks and thighs were crisscrossed with red welts. Jack took a step toward her, pushed her shoulders down, and grabbed one cheek of her ass, spreading her open. There were more angry stripes in there, right across the shaved skin of her labia. Those lips glistened, too, I couldn't help noticing. Not with tears. "Jack. Why are you showing me this?" He laughed. "It's all just part of my full-service distribution business. Jack takes care of you." Like you've been taking care of her, I thought angrily. "Besides, she wants you, see?" Jack dipped a finger into her, then held it up, wet. "You want him, don't you, Missy?" "Yes, Master." "That didn't sound very sincere." "Oh, yes, please, Master, I want to spend the night with him. Please let me serve him with my body, Master. I want him so bad. I want to feel him in me and taste his come." I was dizzy and confused -- and hard. "Jack, stop this, all right? I'm impressed, you've made your point. Just drop it, okay?" His face clouded, and I realized that his smile wasn't the most threatening expression he could assume. "You wouldn't want to turn down my hospitality, would you? Besides," he purred, "now that I've given her the order, if she doesn't spend the night with you she'll have to be punished." Missy knew what that meant, and so did I. I saw the sag in her shoulders. Besides, while my mind was protesting, my groin was shouting "Yes!" "All right, Jack, you win. Missy, get dressed. I'll call a cab." "Nonsense. You'll stay right here tonight. The guest room is all yours." -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | \ .../assm/faq.html> /