I've always known I was a little bit odd, a little different from the other kids. I got off on pain before enough the differentiate tingly feelings in my nethers from needing to go pee. The first time I did it intentionally I scratched the backs of my legs until I bled. I remember sitting in the 4th grade classroom, legs throbbing against the plastic seat, jeans rubbing the wounds, and relishing every second. I remember crying because I thought I was a freak. I remember dogearing every page in my books where someone got tied up or spanked. My Nancy Drew's were worn out along the sections where poor Nancy got captured by the bad guys and bound and gagged. I remember the way my breath would catch watching the Tom and Jerry cartoons where Tom got spanked, looking around to see if anyone else had noticed. They never did.
Like a lot of people undergoing an atypical adolescence I hated myself for it. I thought I was a pervert. I am a pervert, I'm just proud of it now. It wasn't until college that I finally got over myself. I was in a friend's room and one boy, I'll call him M, stumbled upon a picture of a girl with her back covered in red wax. He freaked, thinking it was blood. I laughed and said there would never be that much blood. Another boy, W, looked at me knowingly. I felt my heart catch in my chest. He knew. He could see it in me. He didn't say anything, though. A few weeks passed and I wrote it off as paranoia.
Later, much later, W was driving me home and said, just said, 'You're into BDSM, aren't you?'. I didn't say anything for a moment. Then I nodded. He laughed and confirmed that so was he and so was his fiance. Within a few minutes all of my shame and embarrassment were gone. We were laughing and talking about our myriad kinks and turn-offs. He didn't revile my sexuality, he didn't mock it. We shared in it and that did more for me than anything. I'm in a happily committed and very kinky relationship now.
Just introducing myself to the group.