The naturally occurring BDSM relationship

I've been doing a lot of writing and thinking in the past few weeks. There's been quite a few posts somehow related to the censorship on Facebook of consensual BDSM pages. While it's uncertain what the cause behind it is: articles blaming the "Women, Action, & the Media" page as well as Facebook's advertisers have been written by others. Then there have been my response posts: feminism and my thoughts on the censorship, my thoughts about a woman's rant saying female submissive can't consent to BDSM. Only slighted related to the censorship, but more related to my notion of a naturally forming BDSM relationship is my post that started out as a defense of a friend's book against a harsh reviewer but in the end became about "judging each others' kinks."

Now among all these articles, my posts, signing of various petitions (Facebook: Stop targeting BDSM pages as violence against women. and Facebook: To successfully petition Facebook to change their Terms of Service.) I started thinking about what my Master and I have done. How our relationship has evolved. Going back to the "judging" post, I want to start talking about soft/hard limits. For those who need it, let me definite those terms as I understand them: soft limits are things you might try in time and hard limits are something you refuse to try. Like I think at the beginning of our relationship, my Master might have said watersports were a soft limit for Him; however He's since found out I find it a total turn on (when we're in the shower and clean up is easy). Enemas are a hard limit for Him; He won't be in the room while I'm doing one and would rather not be told that I have had one. A hard limit of mine is a male other than Him touching me in a sexual manner; we don't swing in part because of that because we can't do a "full swap" as the swinging lingo goes. But you know what? Before the first time He and I had sex, before the first time we engaged in BDSM activities. We didn't sit down with a questionnaire. "Master, do You like deep-throating?" "Joelle, do you enjoy dressing up like a chicken and dancing on a table?" (Actually that second one is from my Master's joke about pre-marital sex- "Your wedding night isn't the time to find our your spouse needs to dress like a chicken and dance on a table to get off.")

Things came up in conversation naturally as we got to know each other. It's been about 14 or so years now- you remember that my Master started off as one leg of a polyamorous triad, but my now-ex-husband was an abusive jerk so I stayed with Master and cut ex out of my life, right? In just the past few months, He found I enjoy breath play; I didn't even realize that about myself. He's been experimenting slowly, carefully with it and has found it improves my orgasms. In just the last few days, He's been enjoying these elastic cuffs I found at a Spencer's Gifts (although I couldn't find them on their website.) I didn't buy anything at Tri-Cities Pride so when I stopped at Fashion Square Mall to cool down, I decided to buy the $9.99 "love cuffs"- I think that's what they were called- and those being the main thing that didn't offensively have something to do with FSoG, I bought them. Well He's found that I'm relaxing and becoming more responsive while in bondage, at least those cuffs. His horrendous work schedule tends to keep Him tired though so we have more days than not that we appear hopelessly vanilla; one of my vents- you know we're a long term couple and often enough, our concerns are that of any long term couple.

Speaking of polyamory, that has been one of those things talked about as we went, although the notion of sitting down, writing everything out and signing it, yeah that doesn't work for Shaman and I either. Shaman btw is my Master's nickname, if I've never used it before. Sometimes I think only showing Him as "Master" or "my Master" lends this dark, mysterious "dadadda BDSM dominant" thing that just really isn't my Master. Shaman say a t-shirt once, "I'm not into it for all the funny clothes." That fits Him so well; that's the Man I love, one who can confidently dominant me standing naked at the bed side, across the gaming store wearing jeans and "I hate Magic" t-shirt, wherever. "No men"- that's an easy one. The idea of another cisgender male touching me makes me ill. Of course, it fits with His territorial "I don't want another man to touch you." The conversation is still on-going regarding transgender people- He didn't feel like reading beyond parts 1 and 2 with Chyna-the-hypothetical-MTF-transgender-fan. However, unless I specifically going searching "Hey Ms Right who happens to be a MTF," He's not interested in having the conversation. I might be irritated about that, but I'm choosing to encourage myself to patience, to waiting on His pleasure in talk. And who knows, maybe Ms. Right will message me like Chyna did so then I'll be able to look at Him and say, "So the tranny [because it'll shock Him that I'm using politically incorrect language like He often does] emailed me and she wants to get to know me better."