My Daddys Happy Slavegurl

Daddy called me his masterpiece, and that was why I stood next to him as he sat at his ornate mahogany desk while he showed me off to his business associate. Daddy usually loomed over me at 6'3" to the 5'4" he'd made me with his gurl-slave conversions, but when he was sat down and I was in my 4" heels, my pleasantly juicy bust was level with his face. He gestured all up and down at my body as he and his associate talked about this and that - just an overture to the real dealing that would come later.

I stood there with my best slut smile plastered on my pretty face. Two years before I'd been a newly minted statistics PhD graduate in one of the rapidly declining economies of the west, a bright young man with at least some future ahead of me, or so I thought. Job application after job application had been rejected and the meagre state assistance I could access could barely keep me going in a tiny room in a shared house full of other impoverished graduates.

I had applied to an international programme, a chance to go and work in one of the rising star economies of Africa and to learn from some truly great people over there, to take my knowledge and my practice to the next level. To my utter surprise, I was accepted, and I found myself in a bustling capital city not long after, underneath a beating hot sun, surrounded by a new culture.

A slave-owning culture. Half the planet had gone that way, and my own home country had plenty of indentured labour, it was just too polite to take the next step and turn those people into slaves. Slaves, you see, used far less resources and could not destabilise the government of a country with incessant demands or campaigning. Daddy had told me things like this enough times that some of it had stuck.

"So Ekon," said the business associate to my Daddy, "when are you going to let me inspect your little display model here?"

"Kofi, you only had to ask! This is Persephone, not her original name you understand-" both men laughed at me and I kept on smiling happily, aware that I was Daddy's good gurl and must not pout- "and Persephone is my personal slavegurl, my very special assistant, my maid, my fuckslut and expert cocksucker, my favourite erotic dancer, and just so we are clear absolutely not for sale. Persephone, be a very good little gurl for me and go show my friend Kofi your assets."

"Yes Daddy of course Daddy thank you Daddy," I rattled off in my high-pitched sing-song voice, then I curtseyed to Daddy, lifting my little frilly skirt so that he could see my translucent black panties and the shiny little chastity cage that nestled beneath them.

I sashayed to Kofi and curtseyed to him so that he could get a good long look at my panties, my little caged cock, my perfectly curved hips and smooth toned thighs, and the absolute smoothness of my hairless feminine skin. Kofi grinned, all teeth, appreciative. He reached out a firm hand and grabbed my bubble bottom, lifting my skirt up and out of the way. Kofi spun me around and I bent forward to grab Daddy's mahogany desk for balance.

"This bottom is exquisite - how do you resist fucking it all the damn time Ekon? I'd be balls-deep in him - sorry, her - right now if I could be. You must have iron self-control!" said Kofi.

"I have a couple of others waiting for after our meeting, just for you, and a private room you can use if you want to - I thought you might like to really sample the goods up close you know?" said Daddy.

"But not this one?"

"Mine's the only cock for her anymore, my friend."

"Does his - damn it, I mean hers - ever get let out?"

"She doesn't need it to be out in order to cum, so no. It's fully functional and always will be, but she maintains more of a gurlified slavemind by always being locked. She knows that it's just there to make her look cute for me, nothing else."

"OK gurlie, get your little dress and panties off for me now, I want to look properly at you," said Kofi.

"Yes sir of course sir!" I sang back.

"Three bags full sir!" laughed Kofi.

"My process totally ego strips the slave and makes her amenable to being very eager to obey. Persephone isn't right out at the extreme end though, I like her to be a little bratty for me just every now and then, it keeps things interesting," said Daddy.

"My clients would be wanting little angels for their gurls, never bratty - can you manage that?"

"Absolutely, and the two you'll be sampling are very much that, so you'll see just how good they can be for you."

"Now then Persephone, come sit in my lap," said Kofi.

Very smoothly I put my arms around Kofi's neck and then I slid down onto his lap and planted my rump above his visibly hard cock, which I could see bulging through his trousers. He let out a grunt and I squirmed into position, which made him grin and sigh, and then he slapped my arse playfully. I giggled and writhed and his cock grew harder still. Kofi sighed and seemed to remember why he was there.

He ran his hands over my juicy breasts and then gently pinched each of my upturned cherry red nipples. I moaned because Daddy had made me extra sensitive there when he'd put me through all of his custom-designed surgeries and transformed me from man to gurl-slave. Kofi caressed my tits and I let out more big moans, which made him grin like a wolf, and then he slapped my tits in turn and I squealed each time. I pouted a little and looked at him with obvious fear, so he shushed me and stroked my silky dark brown hair.

"What's her pain tolerance set at by the way? She seems to react very hard to a gentle slap," said Kofi.

"It's at a three out of ten on the Agony-10 scale, so that whenever she goes over my knee she really feels it, but she likely won't faint. The two samples you'll interact with shortly are at a four and a six on the scale. I can't go above seven because the psychological breaking process might not work properly," said Daddy.

"A shame, but it is what it is. A seven will be enough to satisfy some of my more sadistic customers, but not all. They can shop elsewhere - I'll mostly want threes to fives anyway. Now Persephone, let me see those thighs of yours. Mmmm! So milky white, so smooth, so hairless, so very nicely toned. Quite the most delicately feminine legs I've ever seen you know, really very nice indeed.

"And your waist! Oh, the way it cinches in and then the curves flow out, you must barely have room for any organs in there. You're such a lucky little gurl to have had a Daddy who would do this for your body. Now tell me Ekon, how is her intelligence and problem solving ability now after her reconditioning? Persephone, you just sit there on my lap and be a quiet good gurl for us," said Kofi.

"I changed Persephone from a 120 on the international standard intelligence scale down to an 85, partly through a hypnotic conditioning regime, partly through medication, and partly through the special neural implant I developed, which I told you about on the tour of the labs. She would struggle to function independently for long, and she's too stupid to be able to access her old professional knowledge and skills. However, that doesn't matter because she's a better slave for it."

"Better for being stupid?"

"Persephone is my pleasure slave, sure, but she also does a lot of everyday stuff: she cooks for me, cleans, does my laundry, walks my dogs, gives me massages. At work she mostly delivers papers and objects from one office to another, fetches me coffee, and sucks my dick when I'm stressed. She might get frightfully bored if she had to do all that with a head full of complex thoughts, but her not-quite-airhead mind doesn't get a lot of those, and the ones she does have are all about how to please me more," said Daddy.

"What happens when you give her an order she can't figure out, or something goes wrong in the home then? I don't want clients telling me that their maid gurl stood by while their kitchen flooded or something."

"Persephone, what would you do if you were home alone and Daddy's kitchen started to flood?" said Daddy.

"Daddy, I'd turn off the water at the stopcock and then call a plumber from your approved list of tradespeople. If I couldn't get hold of one of them, I'd call you, or I'd ask one of the approved neighbours you let me talk to. Is that OK Daddy?" I stammered back.

"Good gurl, that's exactly right."

"Thank you Daddy!" I said, and beamed.

"So eager to please aren't you?" said Kofi.

"Sir, I'd do anything for my Daddy," I replied, looking him right in the eyes.

"Well I'm impressed," said Kofi, "good gurl, you can get up and now and I guess get dressed and go back to your Daddy."

"Come kneel beside me but leave your clothes on the floor Persephone. Kneel in nadu pose where we can both see you while Kofi and I talk about the deal..." said Daddy.

"Of course Daddy, whatever you say Daddy."

I sank down gratefully, aware that I was about to be watched intensely by Daddy and Kofi for a little while. Nadu meant a lot to men like them, it was the pose of ultimate submission, knees spread, palms up, eyes down. To my Daddy the way I could take Nadu, the grace with which I entered it, the way I held it and the way I smiled through it, would show him that I was his good gurl, his appreciative slave, his obedient plaything, and his happy companion.

And I

was

happy in my life. When he read my little story of our day through (he owns everything I produce, you understand), Daddy told me I ought to explain it all more thoroughly, because some of the people he was going to send it to might not understand. To me it seems obvious why anyone like me would be happy with Daddy, but he knows more than me so I'll explain anyway.

Down there, below my Daddy, on display for my Daddy, in the pose of ultimate surrender for my Daddy... I could sense his satisfaction, the way he looked at me with pride, the way he felt about the body and the slavemind he had gifted me with. It pleased me to please him. We were bound together, bone deep, Daddy and slavegurl, he my benefactor and I his slavegurl desperate to keep him happy. The happier he was, the more he would fuck me, treat me to nights out, make me laugh with jokes, let me suck his gorgeous cock, kiss me on moonlit nights, swim with me naked in the lakes, and the more in love with him I would become.

Daddy had gurlified me because he was right to gurlify me. He was right because he is my Daddy and Daddy is always right. I remembered the stress and the worry and the constant unending thinking effort of my life before Daddy, and I compared it down there in Nadu, with my legs spread and my hair falling down towards my pert breasts, to the feeling of being owned and cared for and pretty beyond comprehension and only expected to deal with the simple but satisfying tasks that Daddy set for me.

He did all the thinking, and I did all the being cute. I tried my good gurl best not to cheek him and he tried to keep training me deeper and deeper into a happy haze of obedient slavery, so that I could adore him even more deeply. I feared his spanking hand, his paddle, his whip and his cane, and that fear in my gut helped keep me in line. What made me excel as a slavegurl for him was the way he encouraged me to be cute and sexy and slutty and to dress nicely and spend a long time on my hair and makeup and to make sure that his home was spotless and his food was the most delightfully seasoned it could possibly be.

Before Daddy turned me this way, I thought I was too "intelligent" to see that might makes right and some should serve while others rule. Daddy removed my cleverness like a tumour and saved me from it. I lived in a state of safety and bliss, so long as I obeyed my Daddy's very fair rules and tried my best to please him. My cock twitched in its little cage as I thought about my Daddy's favourite things, and I had to discipline myself a little to wait for his business with Kofi to be done.

Kofi left some time later, having placed an order for twenty new kidnapped and reconditioned slavegurls, subject to the satisfactory performance of Daddys show-models Rose and Stephanie. I had helped train those bitches myself, had helped make them the same kind of happy and giggling gurlie that I was, so I was confident the deal would be made.

"Stand Persephone. Dance for me. Room: play the special dance playlist," said Daddy after he locked the door.

"Thank you Daddy!" I squealed in delight.

I stepped forward, rose towards Daddy, then spun and did a little jump to land in front of him, my breasts jiggling. I giggled and laughed and swayed my hips side to side. I saw Daddy's eyes lock onto my silky smooth crotch with the little chastity cage that nestled there; I watched as Daddy's mouth opened just a little with obvious hunger. I swayed to the beat, then flicked myself around and started to twerk my arse towards Daddy. I grabbed the desk; he swatted my buttocks lightly.

I kept dancing like that, my chastity cage swinging like a pendulum, my hips absorbing Daddy's attention, my butt moving to the beat. Daddy roared his appreciation and started to give me playful swats to the rhythm of the song, not enough to hurt but enough to be felt. I responded by swinging my hips ever further, ever wider, while I gripped the desk harder to keep my balance.

Daddy grabbed my hips and spun me around, then he pulled me into his lap. I began to shift around on his crotch, his hardon poking at me through the linen of his trousers. I leaned over and kissed him, my cherry red lips on his, and then I felt my implants start to lube me up inside in response to some command gesture that Daddy had made. Still lapdancing, I could feel my arse puckering, could feel myself melting into Daddy's embrace and his lustful presence.

"Ride me babygurl, ride me hard," said Daddy.

"Oh yes oh yes Daddy! Oh yes!" I cried.

Daddy and I made the beast with two backs right there on his leather office chair. I put my hands on his shoulders and planted him deep inside with me with every rise and fall of my lithe body. I thanked him for my enslavement, for my life, for my clothes, for my body, for my mind and for my purpose, and he grinned and panted as he took me for his slavegurl, his very own obedient and loving Persephone, his property, his to use.