Celadons Morning Routine

Celadon awoke to the sound of birdsong. Sunlight filtered through gauzy curtains illuminated his room. He took a moment to take in his surroundings. It had been a little over a month since he had entered into the service of Dr Bertrand Gill, and he had yet to fully adjust to the experience of waking up to luxury. He lay in a four-poster bed, ensconced in deliciously silken sheets and soft, feathery pillows. His body was clad in a delicate nightgown of purest white. Beneath it, a metal chastity belt was fastened securely over his groin, transforming everything between his legs into a smooth, featureless mound. This too had been a new adjustment. He shifted, feeling the night plug move deep inside him. A small groan escaped his lips before he collected himself. It wouldn't do to work himself up. This was his life now, the one he had chosen. There would be countless more mornings like this. He was going to have to get used to it.

He glanced at the clock by the door. 7:59. They would be coming to fetch him any moment now. As if on cue, he heard footsteps approach his room, then a knock at his door.

"Good morning, Celadon!" called Clover as she opened his door. She never did wait for him to answer. She had short dark hair and an impish smile. "I hope you slept well," said another young woman, stepping into the room behind Clover. This was Fern, the taller of the two, soft-spoken and with pale brown hair that she kept in a bun. The two of them wore crisply pressed maid's uniforms, and Fern carried a stack of soft white towels in her arms.

"I did, thank you," said Celadon, as he moved to get up. He slipped into the heavy bathrobe held out by Clover, then was quickly ushered out of the room and down the hallway. There was no point dawdling, after all.

The two maids led Celadon to a large, airy bathroom, where a large, claw-footed bathtub stood, filled with steaming hot water. He gasped a little as the two women quickly and efficiently pulled off his robe and nightgown, skin prickling in the chilly morning air. "Hands on the bath!" said Clover, as she pushed his shoulders down, bending him toward the tub. Celadon grasped the edge of the tub, hips in the air, as she tugged on the night plug. He shuddered as he felt his anal sphincter stretch around the widest part of the plug, then close as it was removed. The key turned in his chastity belt, then it was removed. His smooth-shaven penis and scrotum swung free from the device, shrinking a little in the chill of the tiled room. He felt empty. Gingerly, he straightened and stepped into the hot soapy water, then sat down, feeling the water envelop his lower body.

Clover and Fern wasted no time in lathering up Celadon's body, giggling slightly as he winced and squirmed under their touch. They worked their sponges up and down his body, taking no notice as they worked over his sensitive chest, nipples and spine. Celadon was slowly becoming accustomed to being bathed this way each morning, but he still felt his face flush slightly from embarrassment. Fern held up each of Celadon's feet as she soaped his smooth legs and cleaned between his toes, before Clover ordered him to turn over and lift his hips, a mischievous glint visible in her eye.

Dutifully, Celadon got onto his knees and push his hips into the air, arms leaning on the edge of the tub. Clover carefully retracted his foreskin and ran her finger around the rim of his glans, causing him to gasp and buck involuntarily. She rubbed the sponge methodically over his penis and testicles, then, without warning, inserted a soapy finger into his delicate pink pucker, causing his body to stiffen and a groan to escape his lips "Just making sure you're all clean!" she chirped. Celadon let out a slightly ragged breath as he willed his body to relax. They were nearly done.

Next, Clover placed one hand over Celadon's hands and one at the back of his head, gently restraining him as Fern applied toothpaste to a toothbrush. Gently, she grasped his jaw with one hand and pulled it open. "A little wider, my dear," she said softly, then inserted the brush.

Celadon gagged slightly as she deftly worked the toothbrush over the surfaces of his teeth. Before his arrival at Dr Gill's residence, he had never even heard of anyone having their teeth cleaned by another. But he had so little agency over his body these days, he supposed it was par for the course. Soon Fern finished with his mouth, and he rinsed and spat into the proffered cup.

Then Celadon was guided out of the tub, and his body was dried with soft fluffy towels, dusted with powder and rubbed with perfumed lotions. His hair was dried, combed, and crisply parted. He placed his hands on the sink and stood slightly bent with his legs apart, knowing what was to come next. Surely enough, the two maids donned massage mitts covered in textured rubber nubs, and began to rub and massage his body.

Celadon squeezed his eyes shut as the two women worked his body. He felt the nubs running over his chest and his stiff, sensitive nipples. The girls had explained this to him as a means of supporting good circulation and lymphatic drainage, but some part of him suspected it was really another reminder of how little control he had over his body now. They worked his armpits, back, thighs, calves, upper arms, all over his naked and exposed form. Once they finished, he became suddenly aware that his penis had become impossibly hard, and a thin trail of lubrication dripped from the tip to the tiled floor.

"Oh dear," giggled Clover, as she took it upon herself to wipe him clean once again with a damp washcloth. Celadon bucked and grunted as she worked the rough terry fabric over his swollen and exposed glans. "How will we get you back into your belt?"

"I'll fetch the ice," said Fern, and left the room, returning shortly with a small bowl of ice water. "I'm sorry, dear Celadon, but this will be slightly unpleasant," she said with an apologetic smile on her face, before lifting the bowl to his engorged member.

Celadon's body stiffened once more, his breath coming in short gasps, as he felt the icy water envelop his penis and testicles. Before long, though, his erection began to subside. Once it was suitably shrivelled, the two maids dried his genitals, powdered them once again, and clicked his belt back into place around his waist, taking care to tuck his subdued appendage safely inside the smooth, flat stainless steel cup. His anus, no longer plugged, was perfectly framed by the rear ring of the belt, which gently separated his bottom cheeks and left him feeling most open and vulnerable.

Fern began to dress Celadon, but Clover held up a hand to stop her. "Wait," she said, "I had an idea." She produced a pair of slender golden nipple clamps, connected with a delicate chain, which she affixed to Celadon's still-erect nipples. "These will be a nice surprise for Dr Gill."

The two then began to dress Celadon in slim black trousers and a loose-fitting white shirt, slightly stiff with starch. He could feel the fabric brushing against his clamped nipples with each movement. He slid his feet into a pair of fine leather boots, not yet broken in. Celadon caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He could pass for a young aristocrat, someone with the world at his feet. Instead, he was being slowly molded into Dr Gill's personal pet, without control over even his own body. He suppressed a wry smile at the thought.

And then he was on his way again, ushered through more twisting corridors toward the study of one Bertrand Gill. Celadon's body still tingled from the massage, and his nipple clamps swung slightly as he walked. Finally they arrived at the study with its solid oak door.

"Come in," called Dr Gill in response to Clover's knock, and the three of them entered. He was a tall man with dark olive skin and impeccably trimmed black hair turning to gray at the temples. He wore a dark suit and metal-rimmed glasses, and sat at his desk, writing in a leather-bound ledger. A smile broke out on his face as he looked upon his pet. "Ah, Celadon. How wonderful to see you."

"Good morning, master," replied Celadon, and cautiously approached the doctor's desk. "It's good to see you too." He knelt by Dr Gill's chair, and the older man brought his hand to Celadon's head and began to his fingers through his hair.

Celadon closed his eyes once more and lowered his head into the doctor's lap, breathing in his dark and woody cologne. This was his new life and he would learn to live it. A life lived under this man, whose firm authority satisfied a craving within him he never knew he had. Who had already opened his eyes to so much, and promised to do more. The man who had plucked him from his mundane existence and set him on an altogether different path. His Master.