No-one really knows how many Muses there are.
The light of the sun filters slowly through the glowing mists shrouding the
summit of Mount Helicon, glistening on the crystals of the final frosts of
winter. As the silver light of dawn warms the cold ground, the snows of
winter melt into the sparkling streams of spring. In this magical light
there stands a figure of incomparable beauty. Created in equal measures of
the laughter of the water and the opal glow of this spring morning, she is
an the inspiration of poets and artists, perfection personified.
And today, she is mine.
Is she Melete? Mneme? Aoide? Were the Pythagoreans right, and does she have
seven sisters? Or are there nine, as the later legends would have us
believe? I speak their names, trying to break her silence, to hear the
melody of her words. Clio? Euterpe? Thalia? Melpomene? Terpsichore? Erato?
Polyhymnia? Urania? Calliope?
There is no word from her perfect lips. She lowers her head, shows where the
ropes are too tight around her wrists. The chair to which she is bound seems
too clumsy and heavy to contain her. She weighed nothing at all when I
carried her down the slopes of the mountain in my arms.
I imagined her as a creature of infinite innocence. In my head, I imagined
that the idea to steal her away from the melting frost was my own. I
believed that when she began to show me her graceful ankles, her perfect
breasts, that she was somehow bargaining for her release.
But then she looked up at me with a smile that chilled my soul. I tried to
break her gaze. I could not. At that instant I realised which of us was
truly the captive.
Now my ropework starts to get more complex. A hogtie, yes, but neater than I
usually tie. Her eyes guide me, inspire me. Although outwardly she pleads
for her release, inside she is in control, not me. I submit to her
submission. I am under her spell, and there is nothing in the world other
than her. I know that I will not be permitted to consummate my love for her.
She rules me, though she be the one bound in rope and coils.
I am the true prisoner.