======== 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 4 of 9 Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Date: 29 Jul 1997 23:07:14 GMT Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Lines: 318 Approved: Message-ID: <2415eli$9707291904@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:4704 alt.sex.stories:290997 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 5. Jack was in the room when I stepped out of the shower. Corey was there, too, kneeling naked in front of Jack. There was a leash hanging from her collar now, and the free end was in Jack's hand. "So, what did you think of Missy, eh?" he chortled. "Do I have her trained or what?" I couldn't think of anything to say. It was strange, standing there in front of them with nothing but a towel around me. I was exhausted, and even the shower hadn't roused me. I needed coffee and breakfast and some time alone to think. It looked like I wasn't going to get any of those. Jack didn't seem to notice my silence. "Missy, you aren't being very polite. Thank the man for fucking you." "Thank you, sir. It was very nice to be able to serve you with my body. And thank you, Master, for letting me fuck him." I remembered her parting words, and realized the irony. She had already thanked me, but this wasn't the same at all. Jack laughed harshly. "You'd almost think she meant it, wouldn't you?" He got up, tugging on the leash. "Come, Missy. I got horny thinking about you two last night, I'll need your mouth." "Yes, Master," I heard as she crawled along after him. She shot a look back at me, but I couldn't read her expression. Suddenly it all got to be too much. I'd been through a whole litany of emotions over the last twelve hours, and they'd been buffeting me around, pushing me helplessly from one extreme to another. Now they seemed to merge and focus, and the result was anger. "Jack." It was a loud, commanding tone, one I'd never heard myself use. He stopped and turned back, a puzzled look on his face. "Something wrong?" "Damn right there's something wrong. That's wrong," I said, pointing at Corey. "This whole fucking thing is wrong. I don't know if what you've done to her is illegal, but I know this much. You will never be a distributor for my company as long as you keep a woman in bondage against her will." Jack's mouth gaped, then set into a grim line. He looked steadily into my eyes. I outstared him. He looked at Corey, and so did I. She was pale and crying, and looking at me pleadingly. I knew she wanted me to stop, to back off. I wasn't about to do that. "Hmmm. What do you say, Missy? Are you here against your will?" "Oh, no, Master. I want to stay and serve you." "There. Satisfied?" "Hardly. Let's cut the bullshit, Jack. We all know the score, so no fucking games. You have a hold on her. I want you to give it up. You'll have to choose between business and pleasure, if that's what you get from the way you treat her." Jack scowled darkly. "Christ. You've got a nerve, after spending all night with your dick in her. She told me all about it, you know." "More bullshit. She only slept with me because she's terrified of you." "Oh?" Jack yanked hard on the leash, snapping her neck. "Is that true, Missy? Do I scare you? Huh?" "No, Master. It's a pleasure to serve you." "There, you see?" How could he miss the irony in her voice? It was only a notch below open sarcasm, but apparently Jack couldn't detect it. Or didn't care. Or she knew exactly what she could get away with, and was using it to send a message to me. I thought I knew what that message was: back off, don't rock my boat, things could be a lot worse and will be if you push it. "No good, Jack. I know, and you know I know. She goes, or you lose the product you need to grow your little empire down here." Jack grunted. He looked down at Corey. Then he hauled off and aimed a vicious kick at her bare ribs. She choked back a yelp. "Stay here, bitch. We have business to discuss." To me, he added, "There's coffee in the kitchen. Join me when you're dressed." He dropped the leash and stalked out. "Oh, God, oh, God, what are you doing? Please, please, don't do this. Tomorrow you'll be gone and I'll still be here with him and you can't imagine what it'll be like..." "Shhh-hh, calm down, Corey. I'm taking you out of here, and that's a promise." I dropped the towel and started dressing, trying to ignore her sobs. Five minutes later I was engaged in a surreal negotiation. Jack was no spring chicken, and he knew he had leverage to get concessions from my company. I had guidelines to follow, too, but I'd never had so much at stake. In the end, though, Jack and I settled. He got his distributorship, and on nearly the best terms we'd ever given. There were sales goals attached, but we both knew he'd have no trouble meeting them. In return, Jack gave me Corey. That's right, he gave her to me. He wouldn't agree to simply give up the blackmail documents and turn her loose. He said, "She's completely helpless, you know. I've taken care of her every need for three years, and she'd starve, or end up a hooker or worse." So I had to agree to keep her, to become her new master. He'd give the blackmail evidence to me, not to her. I decided his justification was complete crap. He just couldn't stand the thought of caving completely, and was tickled to think he was turning me into the very thing I was objecting to. Of course, my intention was to free her as soon as I had the evidence in hand -- Jack insisted on holding that for two weeks, and I agreed, since I could always cancel the distributorship if he didn't come across. I'm sure that Jack understood what I planned, too, but as long as he could imagine her as my slave, it took the sting off his loss. Or maybe he suspected what was going to happen once Corey was my responsibility. If so, he did get the better of me, in one sense. He won the day in another way, too. Less than two months later, I would get the word that Jack was married. Apparently he'd been courting a Phoenix debutante, and was probably already engaged when he gave me Corey. Which is to say, he'd have had to get rid of her anyway, and I was a very convenient out. If I thought he was that smart, I'd suspect him of setting up the whole thing. Maybe he did. I'll never know, I guess. Whatever the truth of that, an hour later Jack had his agreement -- to be finalized in two weeks -- and I was getting into a cab with Corey. She was wearing the same sexy black dress she'd worn the night before, and didn't have any luggage except a small backpack with some underwear and toiletries. She hadn't needed much clothing in Jack's house. As the cabby closed the door, Jack leaned in the window and chuckled. "So long, Missy," he said. "You behave for your new master, hear? If you don't he'll send you right back to me for some advanced training." Corey shuddered against my side. To me, he said, "You're a hell of a negotiator, son. Never gave away so much in a deal before. But I got the last laugh." The cab was pulling away now. "She's over the hill, son!" He called out after me. "She's old meat. The bloom is off that rose, and that's a fact!" The most beautiful woman I'd ever known snuggled against me all the way to the hotel, but from there to the airport she shrank away, curling her legs up on the seat and staring out the window as the flat dry city rolled past. 6. Our luck was pretty good. The flight back to Hartford wasn't too full, and I got Corey aboard on a standby fare. They even put us together, aisle and center seat of the same row. The name on the ticket was Corey Appleton. As we waited she told me she had a brother named Mac, short for MacIntosh. I guess her folks were trying to outdo the famous Hogg family of Houston, who named their daughters Ima and Ura. It wasn't until we were boarding that the strangeness began to sink in. Corey and I got some leers and a few truly black looks as we walked up the aisle. I realized that she'd never showered after our night together, and that short-short dress allowed a lot of air circulation up there. Then it hit me -- she probably had no panties on. That touch would have been just like Jack. The good news was that the window seat was still open when they closed the hatch. We pushed up the arm rests and had a three-wide bench seat. Corey grabbed my arm as the plane rolled, and squeezed it hard when the nose went up. It turned out she'd only flown a couple times before. She was obviously scared but made no complaint. She slept most of the way home, and after I called in a voice-mail report to Patricia -- my boss, the national sales manager -- so did I. When I woke I found her curled up on the seat with her head in my lap. That little dress had ridden up, and I could confirm my hunch about the panties. So could anybody walking by our row. I woke her up and got her decent. It was late afternoon in the East when the plane landed. Patricia had a rule on travel: two days' comp time after any domestic business trip. I almost never used it, unless the trip was to someplace like Hawaii, but it was going to be very helpful now. Today was Friday, and I'd have all weekend and Monday and Tuesday to get Corey settled in. I got us bundled into the car, grateful for the Indian Summer warmth. But the crisp autumn sky was a reminder of what Corey was going to need, and soon. I was beginning to see what Jack had meant when he called her helpless. The Hartford airport is well north of town, in Windsor Locks. Most of my colleagues grumbled about that, but it was convenient for me. I owned a small house a few miles further north, practically on the Massachusetts border, so the drive home was quick. Corey wasn't talking, and I wasn't pressing it. I had a lot of things to think about. Sleeping arrangements, for one. I had a small guest bedroom, which was also a library and junk room. It wouldn't be hard to clean that up and put Corey in there. Then she'd need clothes. Well, tomorrow we could hit the mall up across the border in West Springfield. What to tell the neighbors was another puzzle. That might not be too bad, though. New Englanders tended to have a mind-your-own-business attitude. All right, so the basics wouldn't be impossible. But I was still worried, and I couldn't quite put my finger on why. Maybe it was that Corey was so quiet. I'd have expected her to be joyful and excited. After all, hadn't I just ridden in on a white horse and rescued her from the Black Prince? I stopped the car at the little grocery in Enfield. We wouldn't need much tonight, just the basics. I left Corey in the car and ran in. I half-expected her to be gone when I got out, but she wasn't, so we drove home. My place is well out of town, on a couple of wooded acres. It's an old farmhouse that was renovated in the '80's -- comfortable but not elegant. It didn't compare to Jack's pocket mansion, that's for sure. I watched Corey's face for a reaction as we pulled up, but there was nothing. "Home," I announced. "Yes, Master," she murmured. I felt like she'd stuck a knife in me. For a second I couldn't breathe, and for several more I sat still, trying to get my heart to behave. Finally I said, "Don't call me that, Corey. You're not a slave anymore, and I'm not your master. Nobody is. All right?" "All right..." ...Master. She didn't say it, but she said it. "Look, maybe I didn't explain this very well. I figure you'll want to be here for a couple weeks, until Jack sends me the blackmail stuff. Once it gets here we'll have a little bonfire, and then you can do whatever you like. You're welcome to stay longer, as long as you need to get back on your feet. But you can leave anytime, starting right now. Call your family, let them know you're okay, whatever. But you've got to stop thinking of yourself as a piece of property." She didn't respond, except to slide over and take my arm. Well, I suppose it was all pretty sudden and shocking. She was going to need time, and there was plenty of that. We carried the groceries inside, and I showed her around the house, ending with her room. "My room," she said in a toneless voice. Why did she sound so disappointed? "Right. We'll clear out some of this junk and throw it in the attic. You won't need the closet tonight, anyway." I guess it was a poor attempt at comic relief. Corey didn't laugh. "Anyhow," I said, "you can have the bathroom in the hall, I use the one off my bedroom. It's not quite like having your own apartment, but you'll have a bit of privacy." No response. "Okay then. How about we go scratch up some supper?" "Yes, Master." Three years. What had happened to her soul? 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