by Talia Zane
His to Use
Mastering Melody, Book 1
Talia Zane
His to Use ©2016 by Talia Zane
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All rights reserved. Except as permitted under U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this book may be reproduced in any form, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review or article, without written permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Cover from Designs by Dana
eBook Edition
First Edition: January 2016
Blurb
Homeless and desperate to survive, using my body had become a way to make money and get through another day.
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A proposition from the nameless, faceless man who promised to take me off the streets if only I would serve him for a year was impossible to ignore.
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I accepted.
Now the question was, would I regret it?
Before
“Damn Melody, got quite the mouth on ya, baby.”
Even as the man said the words, he pulled me off his cock with a yank of my hair and backed away with a low, appreciative whistle.
I stood up and wiped my mouth off with the back of my hand, thankful he was my last customer of the night because I wanted nothing more than a hot fucking shower before passing out.
At least, I would get the hot shower from the local truck stop I’d scouted earlier, although it would be a bit of a walk and make it a pretty late night for me by the time I was there and done. However, it would be worth it after a day like today.
Didn’t know where I would sleep, but I wouldn’t think about that now.
The man pulled out his wallet, tossed some cash toward me as if handing it to me was impossible, and walked away while I scrambled to pick up the money before it blew away.
I hated that he used my name, but he’d caught me off guard by asking me for it before being ‘willing to stick his dick in my mouth’ and I’d said my real one before thinking about it. Not that it mattered since nobody around here knew me, but all the same, I still needed to be careful.
Shoving the money into the pocket of my old coat — I would probably have to find a secondhand store to buy a new one here soon — I pulled the hood over my head, picked up my backpack full of what little things I owned and began walking toward the truck stop.
Not a long walk, but the bone-chilling cold and harsh wind whipping around my legs made it excruciating. I didn’t enjoy much but stepping into a warm building that wouldn’t throw me out because I didn’t buy anything always ranked pretty high.
I strode back to the showers, pulled out my extra set of clothing, and hopped in once my body warmed up enough the water wouldn’t shock my cold skin. And took my time, because I wasn’t looking forward to heading back out into the cold and trying to find somewhere even a little warm to sleep.
Yet, I couldn’t stay in there forever, so with a reluctant sigh I climbed out and dried off while wishing things were different.
Four years on the street after aging out of the system, and not only had things not gotten better, they’d probably gotten about as bad as they could.
No family, no friends, and no money were a recipe for disaster. Shelters that were either too full for new occupants or let you sleep there but kicked you out during the day, even if it was freezing outside. People inside places looking to hire, who either took one look at me in my semi-disheveled state from walking around and declared they weren’t accepting applications or went through the motions of the interview only to tell me I wasn’t what they were looking for.
Eventually, you give up when people have that sort of attitude, and that’s what I did. I gave up trying to do things the ‘right way’ because it never got me anywhere and took to using what little assets I had to make a living.
Life on the streets quickly taught me what to do, as well as what not to do, and I avoided the pitfalls many women I met fell into. I refused to let anyone have control over me, deciding who I had sex with and when, but this also led to other problems. At first, men would obtain my services, only to leave without paying; others would pay me half and rip me off for the other half. An asshole here and there would pay me the money, only to take it after it was over, saying I didn’t deliver as promised so therefore the sex was free.
And comparing my size to theirs, there wasn’t a chance in hell I could take back what was mine.
This became less of a problem once I stopped moving around so much, choosing to stay here after falling ill and being unable to travel for a bit, because I ended up with repeat customers. Of course, not one of them treated me as anything more than the piece of ass I was, and I hid the fact I was homeless from every single one of them.
They didn’t care to hear any sob stories; they just wanted to get laid, and I was their pussy of choice. I had made sure they viewed me that way — so how could I possibly complain?
But tonight…well, as I stepped back outside into the cold and looked for a safe place to rest, I wondered how long I could on doing this. I was exhausted — tired from the inside out, actually — and wished for something, anything, to change.
I hardly prayed; I wouldn’t even know where to go begin. Yet as I squinted toward my right at what looked like a near-snowless bit of ground next to a car that had snow piled high on it, I couldn’t prevent the desperate plea of rescue from bouncing around in my head.
Wasn’t there anyone in the world who would care about me, ever?
I begged the universe while walking toward the car, needing there to be someone who would help me in a way I haven’t been able to help myself.
As I settled with my back against the car, huddling my coat tight around me in a useless attempt to ward off the cold, I should’ve remembered to remain careful of what I wished for.
I wasn’t even given the chance to scream as a hand came tight around my mouth at the same time my body was lifted from the ground from behind.
Although I kicked my feet, whoever held me didn’t so much as grunt as they placed me inside a dark vehicle and shut the door. My hand went to find the handle, only to freeze upon it at the sound of a deep, smooth male’s voice originating from somewhere here in the back.
“You’re free to leave,” he said right as the subtle yet spicy scent of his cologne reached this side of the car and aroused my senses. “But perhaps you’d prefer to listen to my proposal before you make a decision.”
Still reeling from the way I’d been woken up, I said the first thing that came to mind with more than a little bit of attitude. “Are you fucking serious right now after the way you just woke me up?”
“I don’t typically allow anyone to address me in such a manner, but I will let it slide this time, as the method in which you were handled isn’t the usual way I do business. I am simply in a rush this evening.”
Tightening my grip on the handle, I kept a tight rein on my emotions while removing the haughty tone before responding, trying not to let the fact I can’t even see the man bother me. “Business? I gather you’re aware of what I do and sorry, but I’m not looking for someone to handle my affairs. I’ve got it under control.”
“You sleep on the streets, woman. I don’t believe you can claim you’ve got anything controlled in your current circumstances.”
“How—?” I cut off asking th
e question because the only way he knew I slept on the streets would be if he’d been watching me. “I don’t understand how the way I choose to live is any of your business, but it’s obvious you’ve been keeping an eye on me, and considering I don’t know you, that’s really fucking disturbing.”
“Word gets around.” After a brief pause, as if he wanted me to digest that fact for a moment, he chuckled before continuing. “Do you wish to hear my offer? One which might improve your life if only you would take the opportunity it presents?”
“I won’t do anything real illegal.” Stupid thing to say, since prostituting myself was absolutely against the law, but if his laughter hadn’t told me he understood what I meant, his response did.
“Nothing more unlawful than that which you already engage in, I assure you.”
Biting my lip, I considered just saying no thank you and getting out, but the thought of having my life improved became too enticing to pass up. “Sure. What is it?”
“As you already sell your services, I’m offering something more…permanent. Long-term prospect, if you will, for the term of one year. After that time has passed, you can either decide to carry on permanently, or leave my service with enough money to start a new life off the streets.”
Sounded too good to be true. “What’s the catch?”
“No catch. You merely agree to belong to me for a whole year, to service me in whatever way I desire, and I take care of you in return. Housing, food, a warm bed to sleep in, medical care; anything you need, you receive without delay.”
Definitely seemed like a trick. “All that for sex?”
“It’s more than you get now, or have any hope of obtaining, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is.” And it was. I hadn’t had any of the above besides meager meals for four years now, and I was tired. Worn out enough his offer seemed like an answer to the wish I’d made earlier in the evening.
Funny how that worked out — if this was indeed a response to my previous internal plea.
“So, what is your answer? Do you accept the terms?”
My agreement hovered on the edge of my tongue, a tiny sliver of fear holding me back. Not knowing anything about this man, not even knowing what he looked like, and I wanted to agree to basically be his sex slave for a year because it seemed like a damned good proposition for a girl like me.
“I…I want to agree but I mean, you don’t know anything about me, and I know nothing about you—”
“Let me stop you right there. I’ve no desire to know your name, nor will you ever know mine or see my face. You will quickly learn how things are done and perform your duties as I wish. If you cannot accept not knowing much beyond what I feel you need to know, you may feel free to decline. Otherwise, voice your agreement, as I must leave now whatever your decision.”
No name and no face? I had zero understanding of how such a situation would work, and the idea of being under the control of some man for a year that I wouldn’t know from one off the street should’ve had me saying no. But then I looked out the window, at the snow coming down faster by the moment, and knew the last thing I wanted was to go back out there.
So, I let go of the handle and clasped my hands in my lap before doing the wildest thing I’ve ever done in my life, saying the three little words that put my life in the hands of another for a whole year.
“Yes, I agree.”
I just hoped I wouldn’t come to regret it.
1
I never caught sight of anything except the inside of my room. I wasn’t permitted to leave, and although he told me I was locked inside, I never dared to check the door to make sure.
And it was lovely, even though it had no windows; I suppose that was to prevent me from identifying where the house was located were I ever to leave it for good. From divulging his identity, even.
Warmth. Food. A bed and books to read. I wasn’t sure I’d ever want to leave after having everything I need given to me.
My food was brought to the room and put on a tray that slid through a slot in the door, and there was a toilet and shower in a tiny tiled room that was only protected by a room divider; one that could be moved at any time.
Also, I had a bed, a desk, and a dresser, all bolted down to the floor. The bookcases were built into one side of the room’s walls, with all sorts of varying kinds; all paperbacks from romance to mystery to thrillers to paranormal to classics, on and on.
The night he picked me up, once I agreed and were on our way to his house while still surrounded by complete darkness, he told me to reach inside the center console. When I pulled out some fabric, he told me to put the black out hood over my head and instructed me to tighten the drawstrings around the bottom so that no light could get in.
It remained over my head until after someone carried me inside and my clothing was removed, with him informing me I would never wear clothes again right before instructing me to take the hood off and get a shower after I heard him leave the room. So that’s what I did, and he hadn’t lied.
Strangely, I liked living my new life in the nude and not having to worry about what to wear ever again.
He also kept me on a schedule, with an alarm coming on every morning at the same time along with an overhead light, and then off at night when he wanted me to go to sleep. With zero way to see in the pitch black, I had no choice but to get the rest he wanted me to.
He finally came to me after a week. I only knew how long it had been because I’d been given some paper and a pencil to write with, and I kept track of everything. Finally, I would have something more to scribble about than what few things I did every day and how I wished for a little company.
He announced his arrival through a speaker with a demand. “You have five seconds to cover your head, face the door with your hands behind your back, and be on your knees with your back straight ten feet away from the door.”
He counted down as I scrambled up from my desk, grabbed the hood and moved into position, the door opening right as I straightened my back while sinking to my knees.
The sound of the door shutting wasn’t met with any further words, but with him putting his hand on the top of my head before sliding it down to my shoulder and firmly squeezing while pulling up.
Taking this as him wanting me to stand, I slowly rose to my feet and kept my breathing slow and steady. I couldn’t detect his scent through this hood, the one I remembered from the drive here, and the same one that had turned me on from the moment I first caught a whiff of it.
I wondered if I would ever smell him again, or if that were another privilege I would be denied forever.
“Today,” he finally said while putting his finger under my chin and pushing it up before gripping my chin to keep me still when he had me where he wanted. “You will face a medical examination and treatment, one you will no doubt consider highly invasive. After it is over, you’ll be outfitted with piercings I’ve chosen for you. No need to worry about not speaking or making any noise during these since you will be gagged; feel free to scream as needed.”
My heart sped up at the thought of what would be done that might make me scream, but I convinced myself it probably sounded worse than it would actually be.
Then, I felt him put something around my neck that kept my head in this slightly uplifted position. Whatever touched my neck was soft, like fur, but then he placed it completely around my throat and it was tight. I could breathe, but when I swallowed, I felt the way it restricted my neck and, therefore, my breathing just slightly.
At the sound of a lock clicking, I knew it wouldn’t be removed any time soon, and he spoke once more. “You will never speak again without invitation, and when you do, a simple ‘yes Master’ or ‘no Master’ is all you are permitted to say. Whatever name I refer to you by, be it pet or whore or slut or cunt, you will always respond promptly and without question. You have no name, you have no opinions, you are my property to do with as I wish. If you displease me, you will be disciplined by whatever means I deem appropr
iate, and never with a warning. And by remaining pleasing in all things, your time in this room will be yours to do within any limits I place on you.”
I knew I would be doing everything I could to remain pleasing, because being disciplined didn’t sound good in the slightest, especially if he truly meant without warning. How was I supposed to know what he didn’t like if he didn’t inform me of why I was being punished? A huge reason to make sure I did everything he wanted without complaint or failure.
“Open your mouth.” He lifted the hood above my mouth as I did what he said, shoving a small round ball in my mouth before securing some strap around my head. That, too, was followed by the click of a lock, and a quickly attempted thrust of my tongue against the ball made clear how impossible it would be to move it or make any sound now.
After replacing the hood to cover up the gag, his directions became curt. “Put your arms straight out in front of you, palms up.”
Each wrist had something placed on them as well, and by now, I gathered they were cuffs he would use in one manner or another. I didn’t have much experience with kink, but it didn’t take a genius to realize this man was one of those people…and he was going to immerse me in it.
Then, I felt him putting them around my ankles and when something made a jingle sound, I realized there were bells on my ankles right as he chuckled. “Lovely. You’ll never be able to move without anyone else hearing you.”
Following a few seconds of silence, he placed one hand on each of my shoulders and said, “The final item will be a pair of noise-cancelling headphones. You will hear nothing during your exam or piercings, and you will be held down by straps to keep yourself and others safe from thrashing, including one to prevent your head from moving out of position. After I put it on, we will proceed and I will see you once you’ve rested.”
