Friday, September 13, 2013

In The Hot Seat With H.C. Author L M Somerton

Joining me in the Hot Seat today is author, L M Somerton ,

Tell my readers a little about your background.              

 L M Somerton lives in a small village in the English countryside, surrounded by rolling hills, cows and sheep. She started writing to fill time between jobs and is now firmly and unashamedly addicted.
She loves the English weather, especially the rain, and adores a thunderstorm. She loves good food, warm company and a crackling fire. She’s fascinated by the psychology of relationships, especially between men, and her stories contain some subtle (and not so subtle) leanings towards BDSM.

Q:  Can you tell our readers a little about your writing? What genres do you enjoy writing?
I’ve only written in one genre so far, MM BDSM.
HC: I think this is my favorite too. It seems to creep into all my stories, including my shape shifter ones. Don't know why but it does LOL.

Q:  Do you write on a schedule or when the Muse decides?
I wish I could be more organised, but I write when I can fit it in around a full-time job and family!

Q: Can you tell us about your writing process, for example, do you write an outline first?
I carry a notepad around to scribble down plot ideas when they strike me. I rough out a plot line but don’t plan too rigidly because sometimes the story takes its own direction, but I usually have a firm ending in mind. I often write scenes several times before I’m happy with them and as a result, I’m painfully slow. Maybe with more experience I’ll be a bit more confident in what I write!
Q. Coffee or tea?
Coffee. Coffee. Coffee.
Q. Beach or countryside?
Q. Do you write about the places you know or prefer to take your readers to exotic places?
Places I know, though they tend to be disguised a bit.
Q: Where do you get your inspiration?
Can be as simple as a line in a song, seeing something in the street or a chance remark in the staff canteen!
Q: Would you change anything in your life to make writing easier.
Give up the evil day job. Definitely. And persuade the cat that my laptop is not his bed.
Q: What do you like to read and who are your favourite authors?
In my genre, I love anything by Kim Dare or Sean Michael, and of course yourself, H C. Other than that I confess to loving urban fantasy and my favourite authors are Rob Thurman, Mike Carey and Mark del Franco.
Q: Do you write one novel at a time or do you move between works in progress?
I usually have two or three stories on the go and write where the mood takes me.
Q. What motivates you to write?
It’s my relaxation and addiction. If I have a few spare minutes I can’t resist tapping out a few lines.
Q: Is there anything you would like to share with us about upcoming releases?
I’ve just finished the first book in a new series – it’s called Rasputin’s Kiss and is about two detectives. The sequel, Spikes, is underway. I’ve also started the fourth book in the Tales from the Edge series, which will be called A Double-Edged Sword.

Q: Can you tell us a little about your current novel? What inspired you to write this story?
Dancing on the Edge is book three in the Tales from The Edge series. The first two books in the series both feature new relationships whereas this one explores the development of a committed couple’s relationship rather than new love, which was fun. The main characters, Alistair and Carey, have already been introduced in the other stories but at least part of the inspiration for them came from seeing a photograph of two men dancing. They were so lost in each other, nothing else mattered and I wanted to write about that kind of love.
Life is a dance. Whether you lead or follow, the passion of it should sweep you away.
Carey and Alistair have the kind of relationship that is the envy of their friends. Carey is an old-fashioned Dom who appreciates quiet obedience. Alistair is a sub who is comfortable in his skin and finds peace in his submission. Needless to say, their happiness is too good to last.
When Alistair’s powerful father chooses his reputation over his son, all hell is let loose. Forcibly committed to a clinic for reversion therapy, Alistair can only hope that his lover will save him.
Carey calls on his friends from The Edge and they band together not just to rescue Alistair but also to protect his future. They’ve all flirted with danger in the past - but friendship is worth any risk. As the tension mounts and the stakes get higher, new bonds are forged but will Carey and Alistair’s love survive?
Reader Advisory: This book contains the use of restraints, the pushing of boundaries and edging, kidnap, forceful imprisonment and forms of visual torture along with scenes of prolonged physical torture. It also contains characters with extreme prejudiced views. This book is best read in sequence as part of the series.

Alistair projected perfect serenity—as if there was nowhere in the world he would rather be than naked, on his knees, in front of his master. Carey had no reason to believe that wasn’t true and it was something he loved about Alistair. Oh, the boy could be a brat when he wanted to be, but for a young man, he had a mastery of his body that Carey had never seen matched.
Carey touched Alistair’s chin with his knuckles, prompting him to look up. Carey brushed a finger across Alistair’s lips and smiled as they parted. Alistair suckled gently, his sighs of pleasure loud in the quiet room.
“Let’s move your attention elsewhere, love.” Carey sat on the edge of the bed and unzipped his fly, allowing his swollen cock to spring free. Unbidden, Alistair crawled across the room and positioned himself between Carey’s knees. He looked up hopefully, making Carey grin and nod his permission.
Carey spread his legs wide and waited for Alistair to work his magic. At first Alistair gave light, tentative flicks of the tongue, then languorously slow licks that travelled Carey’s straining cock from base to tip. Alistair kissed the leaking head then took it into the warmth of his mouth. Just the head, nothing more. He sucked gently, putting his hands on Carey’s thighs for balance. Carey wound his fingers into Alistair’s soft hair, not to force his movement but to let him know that his master was there and paying attention to his needs too. The sucking increased, Alistair’s cheeks hollowing as he dipped forward, taking Carey’s entire length before drawing slowly back, scraping lightly with his teeth as he did.
Carey’s pulse raced—he gripped Alistair’s hair tighter, he was getting close. Alistair took him deep into his throat and held him there for a few delicious seconds before pulling back again. He looked up, as if he knew how close Carey was, checking whether his master wanted to come or wait. Carey tugged a few strands of hair, giving Alistair the signal to withdraw. He didn’t want to come just yet. He stood carefully, legs trembling a little, and walked across to the chest of drawers where he kept a small collection of toys. The new ball gag sat there, nestled between a pile of Alistair’s skimpy underwear and Carey’s winter pyjamas.
The black rubber ball wasn’t huge. Carey wanted to keep Alistair quiet, not stretch his face into some weird parody of ‘The Scream’. Alistair pouted prettily when he saw it, but the dark flush to his rigid cock told Carey that he wasn’t really objecting. Carey slipped the ball into place and tightened the straps around Alistair’s head, being careful not to catch his hair.
“That’s lovely, sweetheart. Now on to the bed, hands and knees. You know what to do if you want to safe word?”
Alistair nodded as he got into position. Carey reminded him anyway, “Good. You bang the bed with your fist and I stop.” He was always scrupulous about safety—Alistair had a tendency to be stubborn. Carey stripped down, enjoying the feel of the air on his warm skin. Alistair had managed to get him nicely close to boiling point and he couldn’t wait to bubble over, but first he had to pay another visit to the toy drawer. He retrieved Alistair’s favourite paddle—it was made of flexible steel sheathed in a thick rubber sleeve and could deliver a painful whack. Although Carey was a strict master most of the time, it was indulgent to give the boy what he enjoyed the most and an occasional lapse into soppiness was allowed.
Alistair was trying to peer back at him—difficult from his current position and he knew he wasn’t supposed to look unless he was told to.
“Eyes to the front, boy, or I’ll blindfold you as well.” Carey kept his tone light and conversational. He never said anything he didn’t mean and felt that a raised voice signified loss of control. Alistair snapped his head back into position, but he wiggled his arse cheekily.
“Patience, brat, all in good time. First I need to warm you up a little. Spread your legs wider.”
Alistair moaned around the gag but did as he’d been told, resting his forearms on the bed for better stability.
Carey took a nice relaxed stance and slapped the paddle against his thigh. The sound would let Alistair know what was coming. Carey drew back his arm and delivered the first blow with measured force then watched with pleasure as Alistair’s pale skin flushed with colour. He gave Alistair a second or two to catch his breath then took up a steady rhythm with the paddle. Alistair’s sweet little whimpers turned to moans, but his cock was hard and slick with pre-cum. Carey knew that the moans were more about Alistair’s efforts not to come than they were about the pain. He laid the paddle on the bed and pressed his hand to the reddened skin. Warmth soaked into his palm as he gently stroked the curve of Alistair’s arse.
“You took that beautifully, love. You really want to come now, don’t you?”
Alistair nodded frantically.
“Well then, this will be an excellent lesson in control, won’t it? You are not to come until I say so.” Carey chuckled at his own cruelty. He could have given Alistair a cock ring, but that would have made restraint too easy for him. Carey loved to watch him squirm and cry with need. The single command to end his frustration was the biggest gift he could give.

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Twitter: @lmsomerton

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