It was late, and the weight of the day pressed on you as you walked home. The streets were quiet, the sky painted in deep blues and purples where the sun had just dipped beyond the horizon. You could almost feel each step you took, heavy and weary, longing for the familiar warmth of home.

Finally, your house came into view, and you unlocked the door with a sigh of relief. But the moment you stepped inside, the sight that greeted you halted all thought of rest. There, kneeling just inside the entryway, was Muffin, your little slave.

He was prostrated in a perfect form of submission, forehead almost touching the floor, waiting for you. His small, slender body looked fragile under the soft glow of the hallway light, every bone and muscle visible beneath his fair skin, with loose fitting black tank top. He shivered faintly, though whether it was from the chill in the air or his own impatience, you couldn't tell. His amber eyes lifted slowly, catching yours, and despite his trembling, he managed a soft, serene smile, like he'd been waiting for this moment all evening.

"Welcome home, Master," he whispered, his voice filled with a sense of impatience and obsession. He stayed perfectly still, awaiting your acknowledgment and ready to obey your command with every fiber of his being.