In a basket at the foot of your bed

If you were feeling really nasty or he needed another dose of punishment, you'd stuff Doe inside the padded box in the corner. A long, hard night spent pressed against the walls, tied up in the dark, makes a boy much more agreeable.

Only Doe hasn't done much worth punishing, and he's been remarkably obedient considering this is still his first night in your hands. For a moment you consider doing it anyway, but the deep satisfaction you're feeling has blunted the worst of your sadistic urges. You give Doe a lingering look, admiring his smooth, snow-white skin, almost glowing in the flickering candelight. No, you want your pretty new toy closer at hand, in case you wake during the night and decide you need more of his sweet tongue.

You slip off the bed and rise to your feet, your legs trembling slightly from the multiple orgasms you've just enjoyed. There's a basket next to your bed, like one you might use for a large dog, only no real canine has ever spent any time sleeping there. It's going to be Doe's home for the night, but first you need to get him ready. You pad over to a cupboard in the corner and pull out some leather cuffs you have stored there.

Doe is staring at you with huge, anxious eyes as you turn and stalk back to the bedside and toss the cuffs next to him. You grab him by the waist and flip him on to his side, ignoring his frightened gasp. Then you press him down into the bed with one hand, while the other works at undoing the rope tying his wrists together. You're hardly afraid of him wriggling free. If he tries to fight, you can easily wrestle him down and then he's definitely spending the night in the box instead.

"What are you doing?" He squeaks softly as you pull the length of rope away, his voice raspy and faint after all the licking he's just done. With a sharp sigh, you reach down and smack him hard on the cute, quivering butt. Your palm cracks across one of the sorer spots and his little squeal of pain makes you smirk.

"Naughty boy." You click your teeth. "You don't speak unless spoken to, pet, and you call me Mistress, remember?" As you're scolding him, you yank him over onto his back and pull his hands in front of him, holding them there with one of yours. He watches you, shivering and sniffling, as you fasten the cuffs round his slender wrists. There's a small length of chain between them that should keep his naughty paws tied together.

You do the same for his ankles, tutting softly at the marks the ropes have left on his skin. You can still hardly believe how soft and delicate he is, even as your hands rub up and down his smooth, hairless calves. There seems to be barely any muscle under that tender flesh and you wonder if he's lifted anything heavier than a pebble in his life.

Now that Doe is all tied up for the night, you lean over and lift him up against your chest. He's so light it isn't even much of a challenge, and you easily carry him over to the basket and lay him down on top of the cushion inside.

You pause a moment, staring down at your pretty prize. His huge, adorable eyes are fixed on your face, like a hurt puppy's, tears glistening in his long lashes. As you stare down at his smooth, girly face, you find yourself wondering if there isn't something missing from this picture.