Creepy or Romantic/Sexy?

It began as the opening post of a thread on Fetlife.  Edited a bit, it went like this:
I commonly see submissive women add things along the lines of ‘just take me and do what you want with me’ to their kinks. They profess that the idea of a Dominant doing what they want with them without having asked for permission first is a real turn on.
Some women go as far as rape fantasies, although that’s on the extreme edge of the scale.
The problem I encounter as a Dom is that it never seems to be sexy when I do those things. Not that I actually even really do them. When I suggest that it’s something that I could do, that I’d be interested in doing, there isn’t much interest. Were I to then actually do such things (Say, as an example, grab a woman by her hair, tilt her hair back, and bite her neck) then I’m sure I would get a negative reaction as much as some drunk feeling up someone’s dress at a club.
He went on to ask about getting a girl interested without seeming creepy, and how to be seen as romantic/sexy doing these things rather than creepy.  The responses were mostly “Get to know her,” “Ask about more than sexual/kinky things,” etc.  The usual “Dating 101” stuff.  But that wasn’t what interested me and jogged my memory/writing bug. It was the first idea: Do women really want guys to do those things to them, especially on a first date??
I didn’t respond, but if I had, it would have gone something like this: “Well, hell, it worked for me. First date, dark, empty parking lot afterward.  He didn’t ask if it was okay, there was no “consent” given other than that I didn’t scream for help.  He had walked me back to my car after our date.  I leaned back against the driver’s side and he kissed me, hard, and then when I opened my car door and made to get in, he pushed me back into the driver’s seat grabbed me by the hair and proceeded to take all kinds of liberties with me, which included a pretty severe pussy mauling (the first time I’d ever experienced W’s “grab a girl’s cunt and dig in” style.)  And yeah, it worked like a charm.”
Yeah.  That’s really how it happened, my first date with W. And yeah…it worked for me. No permission, except what my body was telling him, which was, in a nutshell, “Fuck yeah!”  Or at least it was telling me that.  I’m not sure what it was saying to him, though since he mauled me pretty good, I am guessing he was listening to what it was saying.
I do recall him telling me later that it had been a big risk, to approach me like that. Who knows if I would have cried “Help, rape!”   I certainly felt like I was being, if not actually raped, assaulted.  But in a good way. In that yummy, “Oh. My. God.  Finally someone that knows how to treat me!” way.
It wasn’t creepy.  It certainly wasn’t romantic.  I don’t even know if “sexy” quite covers it. But it was fucking hot. Blazingly so.
We had talked via email quite a bit before that, but no long “getting to know you,” talks on the phone, no discussions about limits or things like that.  We had talked about turn-ons, but, I don’t know at that point if I even knew this kind of behavior was a turn-on. At least by a relative stranger.
And, in point of fact, I was a bit scared, a bit taken aback.  I knew what I was supposed to feel: angry, assaulted, taken advantage of. Run, girl, run!  I didn’t feel any of that.  I also didn’t feel all submissive and “I have to let him do this because I’m submissive, blah blah blah ~choke.~” What I felt was heat. What I felt was, “Finally!”
I had thought about trying to push him away.  The last time a stranger had pushed me back into my car and attacked me, had pushed my panties aside and his fingers into me, had been at 2am on a darkened highway. I had run out of gas on the way home from the club.  I was dressed like a tart, half-drunk, and my attacker was my would-be rescuer.  I guess he felt I owed him for helping me.
But somehow, this was completely different.  Truth to tell? That other time I had been excited by the other man’s aggression.  I know, I’m not supposed to admit that, and I’ll probably have some feminists screaming at me for perpetuating the rape fantasy myth, but this is my truth, and I can only tell it like it is.  And the truth is–I was excited by it.  I know now that it was pinging on my “loss of control” fantasies that I have now, though I didn’t know it then.  But I really was more afraid of him than excited, and I did end up forcefully pushing him away–thank goodness I took him by surprise and was able to slam the door shut on him.  But W’s aggression…his aggression I wanted, I was ready for, I had been waiting for and looking for in every Dominant I’d ever played with–including the Ex.  The vanilla part of me said, “this is wrong,” but the kinky girl was loving it.  I wanted to be taken, I wanted a man that wanted to take me, to use me.  No one else had ever done so, had ever dared push past that initial bit of fear resistance, or even come on to me like that. Even Dominants I had played with had approached me very civilly, carefully, perhaps making me come to dinner with no panties, maybe telling me to go jack off for them in the bathroom, but never just…grabbing me by the hair, pushing me back, and using my body like it was theirs to do with as they pleased.
Until W.
I don’t know why it worked with him.  Who can say what attracts us to another, what weird chemical/hormonal/psychological interaction makes it just right with certain people.  Yes, he knew my subconscious triggers, or sensed them, and tripped every one of them.  But it had to have been more than that.  Maybe just the right person at the right time, I don’t know.  I know, I was probably very lucky that he wasn’t a mad rapist or something.  I like to think I already knew he wasn’t, that there was some instinctual part of me that knew him better than that, even then.  But if I’m being honest, that’s probably not true.  All I knew is that what he did worked. And here we are, two-plus years later.  And it’s still working.