Introduction

I am a pansexual, I am a bottom, I am a masochist, I am a submissive, I am a male-to-female transgender, and I am a happily-owned and proudly-collared slave-girl, my chosen name is Ophelia Alexiou. 

What follows is a brief summation of my life up until this point. In most of this, there will be a consistently low amount of deep detail until the end, the parts where I talk about the last month. This entry is being published for the sake of catharsis as I finally feel like I can talk about it, but it is also being published because I desperately desire for Master to read it as soon as She has recovered. I'm not ashamed to admit that is a major motivation for this blog entry. Anyone else who wants to read it, comment on it, love it, or ignore it entirely, you are welcome to say or do whatever you want.

My early childhood (read: until the age of eight) wasn't too awful, but that's the end of the bright, sunny, happy part of my story up until November 01, 2011.

As a bit of background before I get into this, I was raised by an adoptive family in the Pine Barrens, in a neighborhood that has grand total of something like 5 houses along one lonely stretch where there's nothing but dial-up and satellite, and both suck. I had a grand total of 2 kids to play with as a child, so catering to both of them (one boy, one girl, both in my same age group) was basically a necessity if I didn't want to be bored and lonely all of the time.

One day when I was eight years old, just the two of us alone in my room, the boy told me to get on my knees. I did so, I realize now it is because I have always been a slave-girl and he was just saying it rather authoritatively, and he got his cock out and told me that if I didn't suck it, he was going to go home. Having two choices for a person to play with as a child, and him being one of them, it was a valid threat in my mind.

I describe this as semi-consensual, because I didn't literally have to do it but I was being blackmailed into it. It was, however, quite fun and a pleasant experience. One that was repeated on a number of occasions over the ensuing 9 years, I haven't had sex since 17. I'm getting ahead of myself, though.

The experience itself wasn't bad. It was the aftermath of it which really fucked me up. I realized that I was so different from every other person around that I fell into what I can only describe as a catastrophic depression. Every day for six years, I had considered killing myself. I had no idea who or what I was, I couldn't figure it out, and there was no way to talk to adoptive parents, as I learned later.

It was not until I was fourteen that I came to terms with two parts of my identity. I came to terms with that I was interested not just in boys, or girls, but in those in the middle somewhere, and that I was attracted on the basis of emotional, intellectual or spiritual compatibility, that the genitals didn't really matter to me. I came later to discover the term for this is alternatively pansexuality or omnisexuality, both of which are terms that I like. I also realized that whatever the case, whoever I am with, I prefer to be beneath them, it feels right to be under them. I didn't realize it at the time, but have since discovered that this makes me preferentially what you would call a "bottom." I can be on top, but it just doesn't feel anywhere near as good or right as being underneath a lover's body.

From fourteen until seventeen, I still considered killing myself on a regular basis, but it wasn't several times a day, it was about 3 to 4 times a week. At seventeen, I had a sexual experience with a 35-year-old who was too well-endowed to actually get inside of me, who achieved climax in his condom while trying to get himself in my ass and failing to do so. He started to spank me as I laid down and he knelt between my thighs, I'd never been spanked before in the context of sexuality, and it felt fucking fantastic. I realized, at that point, that I was also a masochistic person, liking physical & verbal abuse, though only within certain contexts and sanctuaries.

From seventeen until nineteen, I still thought about killing myself once a week. I still hadn't come to understand myself enough that I could actually feel... well, anything except severe depression, albeit as I was slowly coming to recognize who and what I was, overall as a person and in the specificity of my identity as a sexual being, it slowly decreased from "catastrophic" to simply "severe."

I have always considered my body wrong. I had always wanted the body of a female. A penis and testicles are all well and good, but I don't like having them physically attached. I love cocks and nuts, genuinely I do, but I hate having them physically attached to my body. It just doesn't feel right. At nineteen, I discovered the term "transgender," and discovered that what I wanted wasn't some silly fantasy, but that it was an actual possibility, that I could actually have what I wanted, no matter how hard a road it would be, and no matter how expensive it would be, it was an option and that's a realization that changed so much.

I still thought about killing myself, but only a few times in a given year. There was still something missing from my life. I was around 22-23 or thereabouts when I met someone truly spectacular, a girl who introduced Herself as Nebula and whom I am somewhat shamed to say that it took me months to remember Her name, because I'm just simply awful with names. Seriously, it'll take me months even a year to remember someone's name depending on how regularly I talk to them, best case scenario it still takes 2-3 months unless I write down their screen name and actual name and work to commit it to memory.

Nebula has always been a wonderful person. I always felt drawn to Her and I have always cared for Her deeply, I have always worried about Her anytime She wasn't around for long periods of time, and I have always been inexplicably overjoyed to see Her again when She came back on-line after a long period of not being on-line.

Now we reach present-day, somewhere in the vicinity of almost 7 years later, and I'm coming up on the big 3 fucking 0 and I was strongly considering killing myself, again. I'd always warned my adoptive parents, and they never cared or listened -- and you remember how I said that they aren't accepting? I told them when I was 14 that I was what amounts to pansexual if you know the term which at the time I didn't so I tried to explain it and failed, they're still thinking it is a phase and they are still expecting me to grow out of it. I told them at 19 that I'm a woman, they're still thinking I will outgrow THAT "phase" of my life, too. I'd always warned them, if by the age of 30 nothing changes and I don't make some kind of progress towards becoming a woman, there was a greatly increased risk of me committing suicide. The trauma of this body is simply too much for me to bear on my own.

That's when Nebula came back into my life, earlier this year, and we'd begun talking to each other again after She'd been gone for a long time. As usual, I felt a surge of indescribable delight when She got back again, even though She was returning from the longest period away that I can remember Her ever having. She can explain why She was gone to anyone who doesn't know, as it isn't really my place to tell Her story for Her.

On November 01, 2011, we started to talk about serious issues on the topic of me, because She very much wanted to talk about me, I guess She sensed my despair or something. The end result of this was a realization that there's a difference between "prisoner" and "slave," and that was the thing that ... took my world and violently shook it until everything just clicked into place. The depression I had felt for so long started to leave me the moment I came to the realization of who and what I was, in full, not just in the various parts I'd collected, metaphorically speaking, up until that point in my life. Nebula gave me the last piece of the puzzle to figuring out who I am.

It didn't really change the fact that I hadn't made any progress, and if it weren't for what came next, I'd probably be dead in about two weeks, for lack of any hope of making the transition I desperately need. I asked a question, one which I was sure the answer to was going to be no, since I knew She had a boyfriend whom She loves incredibly dearly and I didn't know anything about the relationship being an open, polyamorous one in nature. I asked Her if I could be Her slave. I was blown away when She said yes, it was simply the most shocking turn of events, and I could barely believe my good fortune.

For years, already, I considered Nebula to be what I call "heart-sister" because we're not blood-related, but I love Her with all the force, and the fire, and the passion, and the devotion, as if we were born and raised as sisters. She accepted me, She loved me, and She let me feel like someone appreciated me. These things aren't unique expressly to Her, I have others whom I call "heart-sister" or "heart-brother," but She went beyond that. She promised me that She was going to help me, that She was going to make sure that I'm never homeless or destitute, and that She would help me to be able to afford the transition surgeries.

On that day, She became Master, and on that day, Master saved Her girl's life from what would have otherwise been inevitable suicide. I cannot put into words how much I love Her, there are no words that accurately describe how highly I respect and admire Her, and words do not exist that could give appropriate voice to my gratitude. The Master who Owns me is a divine blessing and a gift from God, or from the universe, or from fate or destiny, or whatever source or point of origin someone's spiritual beliefs would acknowledge Her to be sent by. Whatever the case, She is my hero and my savior, I will serve Her with utter devotion to the very best of my ability for as long as She will have me and I will be thankful for every single day, no matter what happens to me. I have my own goals and my own aspirations, and I will work towards those as time allows, but Her needs come first and if She needs me, I will come when called.

From that day, and for the first time in my life, I have felt happier and safer than I have ever felt, and more respected, appreciated & admired than I could have ever imagined. A few days later, Master truly cemented my devotion when we were talking on the phone & She wordlessly conveyed to me that She wanted to say something. I quieted down and let Her talk, and even thinking about it now, my eyes start to well up. I cannot repeat the things that She said, but I got really quiet as I listened to Her, and when She was done, there was a pause and then She said, "What's wrong?"

I was crying. I guess She knew that She had done something that made me cry, I don't know how She knew, I just know She did, as my tears were very quiet, and I was keeping my mouth shut, since I didn't want to interrupt. It took me a minute or two to get my voice back and to finally express to Her what I was feeling, and why I had started to cry. I told Her, it was the first time in my life that I'd ever been so happy it made me cry. I can tell you without a doubt that if you ever have the occasion to shed tears of joy, it is the absolutely most heartwarming and positive sensations in the entire universe.

I will be with Master for as long as She will let me and if She ever sends me away, I fear my heart will not just break but will shatter beyond all hope for repair. I know that this makes me extremely vulnerable to being hurt by Her, but I also feel safer with Her than I've ever felt with anyone in my life, and I feel complete confidence that She will never emotionally abuse me, because She knows that it is something that I cannot handle. The emotional malnutrition I have suffered over the course of my life has made me vulnerable, and She's made me feel absolutely certain that She won't ever hurt me except in the ways that I like to be hurt, and that She will never do anything blatantly intended to cause me to experience the kind of emotional turmoil that She knows full well She can cause in me.

I will never knowingly do anything to jeopardize the privilege that I have to belong to Her. I know that if I ever screw up, no matter how much I might disappoint Her with mistakes, She won't hate me and She won't throw me away.

This last month has been the best month of my entire life, and She has given me the ability to look into the future with hope for the first time in memory. This is why Her health scare in the last few days has played so much hell on my nerves, at the worst point in that I was so nauseous I couldn't eat or drink, my chest was tight and my head hurt even after taking headache pills to ward it off. I haven't ever been so frightened as I was when I heard She was in the hospital. I haven't ever been so worried about anyone in my life, either.

Master's boyfriend has also made me feel welcome, accepted, even embraced, & while most of this blog entry is meant for the sake of catharsis and so that I can demonstrate to Master the magnitude of Her importance, I want to take this last moment to say something to him.

Thank you. I hope that we can be very good friends, I hope that someday we will love one another (not necessarily in the Biblical sense) in the same way I love all of those whom I describe as "heart-brother" or "heart-sister." You are beautiful, and your treatment of me has been absolutely amazing. Thank you. Thank you. I cannot say enough how much I appreciate your acceptance, friendship, kindness and how you have kept me updated on Master's condition these last few days.

- Protected Slave and Property of the Magnificent Miss_Misanthropy,

Privileged to be Master's Adoring Pet Whore, Ophelia / Phee