Part 11: The Apology

Friday WMM(CE) wrote:
>
> Locked in the cellar, not bound, but unable to see or hear anything
> going on upstairs.
>
> Turns on the radio to hear Barney (the horrible purple dinosaur)
> singing off key
>
> No more visits from the chocolate covered muse
>
> There.
> That ought to fix you.
>

He knelt in the dark. Misery apparent in the droop of his shoulders.

The radio lay in pieces at the bottom of the far wall.

A whisper of sound alerted him and he closed his eyes, hoping against hope.

A faint but bewitching scent of chocolate caused his mouth to twitch, leaning forward he inhaled a much more seductive aroma.

Alternating kisses, licks and nibbles he worshipped his muse, reaching around he stroked the perfect globes of her bottom and pulled her to him.

The sounds of passion were increasing and he supported more of her weight as his worship of her became more ardent and the strength left her legs.

Finally he provoked her 'little death' and he continued to nuzzle gently as she regained her balance. Taking his head in her hands she stroked his face and then kissed the tip of his nose.

He spoke, "Am I forgiven?"

She giggled, in the way that muses do, "I'll think about it."

With a flutter of wings she was gone.

He opened his eyes to discover the lights were back on and a single feather drifting down to come to rest on his pillow.

Arty
(Pretty please?)