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From: dbetger@tiac.net (Donnie B.)
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Subject: {A.S.S.} NEW! Owning Corey (A different sort of D/S story) Part 4 of 9
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Date: 29 Jul 1997 23:07:14 GMT
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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?  How long would it
take to start healing?

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