A faint aroma of soap, a smell I particularly appreciate, begins to titillate my mouth and nose with each breath I take, causing me to look up from the book I am reading. Putting the book down, I take in the sight of my boy kneeling, hands clasping his ankles and head bowed, just inches from my knees. The boy had entered the den so quietly I had not heard him; the aroma gently wafting off the boy's body made me aware my boy was there. "My boy," I think to myself, the sight giving me a sense of satisfaction and physical desire as I realize that my boy would do anything to please me. The boy spent most all that morning cleaning the kitchen as instructed, and I had heard the boy humming some kind of tune while he worked, either to make the tedious task more bearable, or because he enjoyed doing whatever his Daddy/Master required of him.
Leaning forward, I ran the palm of my right hand tenderly over the boy's freshly shaved scalp pleased that I feel no stubble. I brush my fingers through the strip of hair, still slightly moist with its recent cleaning, that runs down the middle of the boy's scalp and, with slow deliberateness, rub my palm over the boy's neck and cheeks, and then place the tips of my fingers under the boy's chin.
Boy keeps his head bowed the whole time, not daring to look up. he just gives out soft, almost inaudible moans - whether in anticipation of pleasure or pain I cannot rightly tell. I know that boy understands that infractions result in painful punishment, but obedience has pleasurable rewards. I look over his shoulder and note that his ass still had a rosy glow resulting from the belt spanking I administered that morning after breakfast. Boy had put his hand on his cock without permission while I was fucking him the night before. He knows that he can touch his cock only with my permission or when cleaning his body to keep that attractive appendage squeaky clean for me.
After his punishment this morning, he knelt in front of me, and I gave him permission to speak. His voice cracking and tears running down his yet unshaven face, he thanked me for his whipping. I then gave him instructions to clean the kitchen thoroughly which included scrubbing all the counters and the sink and scrubbing the floor. When he completed that task, he was to go immediately to the master bath and clean the outside and inside of his body. I did not have to go into detail with that, for after weeks of training I knew he understood that meant shaving all the stubble from all reachable parts of his body, leaving only his eyebrows and the strip of hair down the middle of his scalp. He understood also that meant self-administering at least three soapy enemas to clean his ass for my pleasure. To keep his body baby smooth and hairless, every ten days or so, I shave those parts he could not reach followed by application of a powerful hair removal solution on all parts of his body. The depilatory stings the skin, so I wear rubber gloves when applying the solution. During and after application, boy would squirm in silent discomfort as he stood for the thirty minutes after application before I would give him permission to shower and then rub baby oil on his skin from his feet to his head.
After I give boy his instructions I motion for him to get started. Saying nothing, as he knows that silence is golden, and he could not speak without permission, he quickly gets to his feet and walks over to the supply closet to retrieve the mop bucket, brushes and scouring powder necessary to perform his task. While he was gathering the equipment, I pour myself a cup of freshly brewed coffee that boy had prepared earlier when making our breakfast and, with the cup in hand, walk into my den.
I make myself comfortable in my favorite chair and gaze out the window to my left, appreciating the lush green lawn and trees that grace our back yard. The morning sun shines through the window providing all the light I need to resume reading the book I had started the day before. I take a sip of the coffee and start reading. I find myself so engrossed with what I am reading that I lose track of the time. When my bladder starts signaling the need to be relieved, I look up at the clock on the wall - almost three hours has passed since I entered the den.
I pick up my now empty coffee cup and walk through the house to my bedroom and push to open the partially closed door to the master bath.
As I expected, boy was in the open shower area. The shower area is an open extension of the master bath and has no curtains or doors. He was standing there, his body, except for his head and face, which he had obviously already shaved, covered with soap. He was standing, legs apart, his head bent over as he was attentively shaving his balls. When boy sees me walk in, he immediately drops to his knees. I tell him to get up and continue his task. He stands back up and resumes shaving his balls, obviously struggling not to look my way as I unzip my pants and take out my cock. As I piss into the toilet, I admire the sight of his lithe body. Boy is lightly muscled, a result of the daily workout routine he is required to perform. He has no excess body fat, a flat stomach and well defined pectorals. When my bladder is empty, I put my cock back into my pants and zipped up. I take note, with not a little satisfaction, that the enema bag, hanging from the shower head, is bulging full. Boy had made the necessary preparation to administer the required enemas to clean his intestines. I pick up my coffee cup and walk out the master bath, purposely leaving the door wide open.
I walk down the hall and through the dining room and into the kitchen. I breathe in the fresh clean smell and note how the tiled floor, freshly scrubbed, glints in the sunlight streaming in through the windows. Boy did an excellent and thoroughly job of cleaning. I pour myself another cup of coffee - boy had done a little extra and had brewed a fresh batch - and walk into the den, sit back in the chair and resume reading.
-to be continued-