Her and me both, I can tell you. As the title says, NO ONE is more surprised by this than I am.
Lots of folks in the BDSM community will tell you that they always knew something different about themselves before they found a way/the courage to explore their desires in real life. Not me.
When I was in grad school, I took a young lover. Young enough that he had grown up with porn on the internet (at 49, this was definitely NOT the case in my own adolescence) and had a very different idea of what was common or even normative than I did. He was a big man - a foot taller than I am and broad in the shoulders. He played kind of rough and was enough bigger than I am to fling me around like a ragdoll, to dominate me physically with ease.
He bit me. He bruised me. That was the first time anyone had left a mark on my body since I was a teenager coming home with hickeys. And it was hot. It was so fucking hot, I have no words. To the man in my bed, his marks on my skin represented a sad lack of control; he saw every one as a failure. I'm honest enough with myself - then and now - to know that it was exactly the loss of control that did it for me. That he wanted me So Much that he couldn't be gentle if he wanted to be.
That was my first step down this path and it was only about 10 years ago. Some describe me as a late bloomer but that phrase implies a lack of confidence to pursue my own desires. Until the day I got that first bruise, I had No Idea that this could be a thing I would want. That it was a thing anyone wanted. Given what a slut I've always been, my own innocence is kind of amazing.
I was disturbed by how much it turned me on to be manhandled. Too disturbed, in fact, to examine it or pursue it right away. How did this fit with my feminism? What did it say about me? Was my own independence a sham? I'm still working on these questions.
I'd love to know what your own origin stories are like.
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