TFFA FanFiction in Motion Contest Entry
Title of story: Kyrie Eleison
Song: Requiem for a Dream remix (doryangrai dubstep remix)
Link: www. youtube. com / watch?v=A72oe1y1i9s
(I advise to download the song and put it on replay, that's how I wrote this story.)
Pen Name: MinaRivera
Betas: LaMomo & MrsEdwardCullenP
Summary: Isabella was the epitome of perfection for them. She let them own her time, her body and her pleasure. But who was the one that once owned her completely: body, mind, heart and soul?
READ IN ½ PAGE, PLEASE.
"My heart is old it holds my memories
This heart it burns a gem like flame
Somewhere between the soul and soft machine
Is where I find myself again."
The music was soft, dramatic and sensuous. I let it fill me, move me, transport me.
Every beat made me move a step closer to where I wanted to be. Every beat made me look better for him.
I was here for his entertainment, his visual entertainment.
I never got to feel the cold metal of his ring finger against my skin.
He never touched, just watched.
I didn't care; I was the one he chose. I was the one who captured his attention with the movement of my curves, with the sensuality of my dance, with one look of my eyes.
Here in the darkness of his home, the moonlight was my spotlight and the living room my stage.
And my audience was only one.
He looked regal from where he watched me in the leather armchair.
He was my God who I had to pay homage to with my body.
I danced only for him, just for tonight, just for him.
He was painfully beautiful, my golden God. His piercing blue-grey eyes showed his desire and lust, but he never acted upon them. He always held back. Every night I danced for him, but he never moved.
His eyes always followed my every step, he made me his, he devoured me just by looking at me.
The rich white silk that covered my body caressed my exposed skin as I let it drop to the floor.
I heard his intake of air when he saw me covered only in the exquisite white lace of my lingerie.
He loved seeing me in white lace.
His eyes were clearly shining with hunger and lust; they swept over my body igniting the fire in my veins.
The music continued as I danced only for him, just for tonight, just for him.
The beat changed, it was faster, and I moved with it. A slight sheen of sweat covered my ivory skin and made it shine and flush under the exertion of my passionate dance.
My hair flew over my shoulders as I turned around to face him, I gave him the cheekiest smile I could muster, and then I turned around again, lifted my arms to the sky and threw my head back.
I saw him smile.
I liked his smile.
"Isabella…" he whispered form his chair.
I knew what he wanted.
My golden God wanted to see me.
As the beat of the song slowed down, so did I.
I slowly took off the laced glove from my arm and dropped it to the floor.
It was killing him to have me so close, yet so far at the same time.
He enjoyed seeing me dance, but he truly loved seeing me bare for him.
But most of all, he needed to be tortured, teased and taunted.
That's why I danced for him.
And I was the only one he always called back for more.
No one else.
I danced only for him, just for tonight, just for him.
The light breeze whispered through the tall grass and it enveloped me in its gentle touch, raising goose bumps over my skin.
He moaned and writhed beneath me, just like he liked it.
I never knew that spending time outdoors was going to become part of my routine.
But it did.
Today was warm, sunny and beautiful.
He rode all day under the sun and across the fields, my cowboy.
But I was the one to ride him today.
"Be-lla," he groaned as he noticed me slowing down my pace.
His big and calloused hands were planted on my hips to guide me, never to dominate me, never to set the pace.
No, my cowboy liked to relinquish the control of our dance.
I controlled him, only me, for today.
"God damn it, Bella!" my cowboy yelled when I roughly impaled myself on his manhood only to go back to the slow dance.
He was beautiful.
He was a southern gent.
He never forgot to bring me flowers.
But I loved to watch the hot-blooded cowboy scream my name in ecstasy - just like he was now, with a light sheen of sweat covering his toned body.
He was magnificent beneath me.
His corn silk hair hung back and his clear blue eyes showed me the passion, desire, lust, need, and the pleasure that only I could give him.
He was begging me to let him cum.
And I loved to watch him beg.
And there it was.
I picked up my pace, going faster, harder and then slower again.
I threw my head back in laughter when I heard him growl at me.
He felt so good inside me, so big, so thick, and so good.
He was incredibly fun to ride, torture, and make him beg.
I was slow, fast, soft, hard, raw, tender.
And he loved every second of it.
He sat up only to take my nipple with his talented tongue.
Yes, my cowboy always pleased me first with his tongue and long fingers.
He was such a southern gent.
But now… there was no gentleness.
Now we were fucking.
My hot-blooded cowboy always liked to be fucked hard.
I was the one fucking my cowboy hard today.
Hard and fast.
I rode him.
"That's it… Ye-fucking-haw!"
I rode my cowboy hard in the middle of a meadow today.
I controlled him, only me, for today.
The smell of leather saturated my senses.
My skin felt heated even though the room was cool.
I couldn't see, only hear and feel.
My hands were bound together above my head.
I was standing with my legs spread open by a metal bar.
I was spread for him.
He was a personal favorite.
He never intimidated me, he inspired only trust.
Today he was the tease, and I, his victim.
He owned me, I was his, completely.
And I hated and loved every single minute of it.
"My beautiful Swan," he murmured against my ear, his hot breath sending shivers through my spine. I could smell his musky scent, it was so intoxicating.
I was his prisoner, his submissive, his servant.
I was only his for the weekend.
"The colors, my Swan," he ordered from somewhere in the room.
Yes… the colors.
The color of the leather that bound my hands meant stop to all play; the color of his eyes meant to slow down all play; and the color of the walls in the room meant to speed up all play.
I always asked for things to speed up.
That was why he always asked for me.
I was his personal favorite as well.
A small hiss escaped my lips as I suddenly felt the sting of fur and leather against my backside.
I wasn't worried, he had asked to be as vocal as I wanted, but I knew he enjoyed me working up to my screams.
Again, he brought the leather down against the skin of my thighs and it felt like there was fire spreading through my veins as the waves of ecstasy invaded me completely.
He was a master with the fur and leather.
Tall, strong and fierce.
He was my master.
As I was his.
He didn't intimidate me. No, he inspired only trust in spite of his size.
It also helped that I was a sucker for his dimples.
Both sets of dimples.
I moaned as I felt the fur hit me closer to where I ached.
"Yes, my Swan. Feel it!"
He was always so focused on the task at hand.
I loved to watch him dominate me.
I was denied that pleasure today.
It didn't stop me from seeing him in my head: how he would stand tall and proud, his bare chest showing his taut muscles and his ripped jeans that hanged low on the V of his narrow hips.
His left hand would hold the fur flogger expertly in his grasp.
His right hand would be fisted and hanging tensely at his side.
He always started by holding himself back.
He always started with his fisted hand at his side.
I loved it when he finally had his hand spread wide.
He was a master of pain and pleasure.
He was my master and I his servant.
And I was his, only his, for the weekend.
I walked towards him.
I ran a hand through my hair trying to tame it a little, trying to look good for him.
I never really figured out why I cared.
I snuggled closer into my black wool coat as I felt the cold breeze pass over me.
I sat down on the stone bench in front of him.
He was looking up to the sky, a smile gracing his plum pink lips. He had a little bit of stubble over his square jaw, just like I liked it.
He was always trying to please me.
He was always worshipping me.
He was mine.
I was his.
Body, heart and soul.
"Love, how are you today?" I asked in a soft tone.
He didn't answer.
I never got an answer.
I closed my eyes and I could fill his lips over mine.
So soft and gentle.
I would try to pull him closer by the hair on the back of his neck.
He had such soft hair.
He loved it when I played with it.
"Stupid, copper hair…," he would mock when I told him how much I loved it.
He was so beautiful.
So painfully beautiful.
I felt a tear escape from the corner of my eyes.
I touched my lips trying to soothe the tingling that came after he kissed me every time.
There was no tingle this time.
There would never be a tingle again.
I opened my eyes as I watched him still looking up to the sky, his eyes shining with happiness.
He had the most expressive emerald green eyes.
I loved his eyes as much as I loved his hair.
"Sometimes I wonder if all you see are the eyes and hair, my love," he would say.
"It is your soul I see, dear heart," I would always answer.
"As I do, my love. You have the most beautiful soul," he would whisper in my ear.
It was his, only his.
My soul belonged to only him and no one else.
And he was mine.
But not anymore.
"My Lord, have mercy…."
I always asked for mercy.
He never listened.
I was still here.
And he was still there.
I stood up.
I touched the glass that covered his angelic face.
He was so happy.
He was so full of life.
Why did You have to take him from me?
I felt more tears escape my eyes.
I angrily wiped them away.
I was tired of the tears.
I was tired of this all consuming loneliness.
I just wanted to be his.
One more time.
I dropped the white rose over where he was now lying.
Beautiful, cold and gone.
"It is yours, dear heart; my soul has always been only yours."
I let my words be carried by the wind.
Would he hear them?
I hoped so.
My only wish was for him to never see me.
I was no longer his love.
I was a shell of myself.
The real me left with him, to the heavens.
While I stayed in hell.
For as much as my soul belonged to him, my body was someone else's.
In fact, it belonged to many others.
I turned around and walked out never looking back.
I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket.
I looked at the message with indifference.
I knew what I had to do.
It was time for me to go back.
I would never be worshipped again.
He was the only one to ever worship me completely.
For my soul belonged to only him and no one else.
No one else.
"When I was young I dreamed of growing old
Of what my life would mean to me
Would I have traveled down my chosen road
Or only wish that I could be."
-Kyrie Eleison by Mark Schultz
Disclaimer: References to real people, places and groups are used fictitiously. This story is a work of fiction. Ms. Meyer owns Twilight and all of its characters, no copyright violation is intended.