We'd like to Welcome K.C. Wells to the blog. She was asked to blog about:
you gained – and lost – by taking a risk.
Last year was a pretty momentous
year in my life.
I’d been writing since February
2012, and by the end of that year, I had one book published, I’d contracts for
two more and I’d written a fourth book, the first of my Collars & Cuffs
series, An Unlocked Heart. 2013 was shaping up nicely.
Until my day job went
pear-shaped. (For all you American readers, that’s a Britishism. It means that
something went badly wrong)
I’m not about to go into it all.
But if you’ve read Love Lessons Learned, when John is suspended? Yeah, that was
me. And it hit me hard. I lost weight. I couldn’t sleep. After a week or so of
this, I began to throw myself into my writing. It kept me busy. I became a
writing machine. During the three months of my suspension I wrote Trusting
Thomas, Waiting for a Prince and Someone
to Keep Me with Parker Williams, a.k.a Will Parkinson. Yeah, I was a busy girl.
I went to visit my father and stepmother in the south of France that Easter,
and within a few hours of landing in Montpellier, I found myself sitting on
their patio and having a frank conversation, which began with the words, “You
know you can’t go back to teaching on that island, don’t you?”
I knew, all right. After one
pupil had made a comment to me as I crossed the school grounds to the Head
Teacher’s office, yeah, there was no way I could go back there. And I was
scared to death. I’d been a teacher all my working life, all twenty-three years
of it. What else could I do? I had a degree in French and Spanish, so maybe
Then my dad asked The question.
“Can you make the writing pay?”
I’d been asking myself the same
question. I’d spoken with a good author friend, Sue Brown, about whether I
could earn enough with my writing to pay the mortgage. My salary paid all the
household bills. She said it could be done, with a lot of work. So I repeated
our conversation to my dad.
He thought for a moment or two.
Then he told me that maybe my teaching career had come to an end. He and my
stepmother had been worried during the last two years by how stressed I’d
become. The previous year had been so stressful, I’d lost half my hair. They
both felt I needed to do something different. Was writing it?
At this point my first two books
were out. I hadn’t received anything from my publisher because we are paid
quarterly, and I probably wouldn’t see anything until the second quarter of the
year, after June. I had no idea if I could make this pay. All I had to go on
were the four contracts I had with Dreamspinner Press. They must have thought
the books would sell, right?
But for the first time, I
considered a life not teaching. And for the first time in weeks, I slept that
night, and the next day I felt so relaxed. No more teaching. It was an
indication of how much the job was stressing me out that the thought of NOT
doing it anymore filled me with calm.
Then the worries set in. I knew
how much I’d need to earn each month to pay the bills. Then there was the whole
conversation that I’d have to have with the husband. I knew Dad was right. It
felt like the right decision. All I had to do now was work out how to bring in
I returned to the UK and sat
down with the hubby to discuss it. I could see he was shocked that I was
considering giving up teaching. But when he suggested looking for teaching jobs
on the mainland, or in different schools, I started crying. I’d accepted that I
WAS NOT going back into teaching. We
talked about translating. I contacted Dreamspinner about doing some translation
work for them.
And then I decided that I’d self
publish for the first time. I wrote Making it Personal and asked Sue Brown for
recommendations for an editor and cover designer. That brought me into contact
with S.A. Meade and Meredith Russell, and I am still working with them today.
We’ve developed a good rapport, and I was lucky enough to meet Meredith at the
So when my disciplinary hearing
arrived, it was about twelve days after I’d published Making it Personal. And
I’d been floored by the response. I went into the hearing feeling relaxed,
because if it all went to hell in a hand basket, there WAS an option. As it turned out, I wasn’t fired, but as soon
as I got out of the meeting, I asked my union rep to help me bring an end to my
I’d made the decision. I was
going to write full-time.
Looking back, although it was a
scary experience, my suspension was the best thing that could have happened.
Because now I LOVE my job. I get to do something I love. I’m relaxed. No
stress. And rather than being tied to school holidays, I’ve been able to
travel. At the end of March this year, the hubby and I went to Florida to stay
with my very good friend, Max Vos.
Yes, I can pay the bills. My dad
was worrying about this recently, so I assured him that everything was fine.
Some months are better than others, but the bills are always paid. The ideas for
books keep coming – the only problem I have these days is that there aren’t
enough hours in the day to write them all!
Yes, it was a risk. When I made
the decision to write full-time, I didn’t have much success to go on. That
summer, An Unlocked Heart came out and wow…. Readers loved it. The success of
that book and Making it Personal was validation that I’d made the right
decision. I read an article just last week by a guy who said that female
romance writers could only write because they were backed up by their husbands’
salaries, so they were able to indulge their ‘hobby’. I won’t tell you what I said (out loud) when
I read that. THIS writer watches every single book’s progress because my books
pay the bills. But yeah, I definitely made the right decision, risky though it
Name: A Dance with Domination
Name: K.C. Wells
Bio: Born and raised in the north-west of England,
K.C.Wells always loved writing. Words were important. Full stop. However, when
childhood gave way to adulthood, the writing ceased, as life got in the way.
K.C. discovered erotic fiction in 2009, where the
purchase of a ménage storyline led to the startling discovery that reading
about men in love was damn hot. In 2012, arriving at a really low point in life
led to the desperate need to do something creative. An even bigger discovery
waited in the wings – writing about
men in love was even hotter...
K.C. now writes full-time and is loving every minute
of her new career.
The laptop still has no idea of what hit it... it
only knows that it wants a rest, please. And it now has to get used to the idea
that where K.C goes, it goes.
returned to the UK after living in the States since he was eleven, Andrew
Barrett is determined to keep busy and make a new life for himself. He works
full time as a copywriter and strips at a club on Canal Street on weekends. But
it still leaves him too much time to think. Then he finds the BDSM club,
Collars & Cuffs, where at twenty-nine, he is their youngest Dom. Young
doesn't mean inexperienced, however. All this activity keeps him focused with
no time to dwell on the past. But the past has a way of intruding on the
It's been four long years since Gareth Michaels last
set foot inside Collars & Cuffs. But when he finally summons his courage
and steps back into his former world, he finds the man who drove him away is
still a member, and what’s more, he wants Gareth back. Two men in pain need the
freedom they find in each other, but it takes another man's horrific plans to
make them see it.
“When you’re ready, Andrew.” Leo gave
him a nod.
Andrew acknowledged him, took a
breath, and then faced Dorian, who held himself motionless as Andrew circled
around him, inspecting him from every angle. “Good evening, Dorian. I am Master
Andrew. For this evening, you will address me as Sir. What are your safewords?”
“Thunder is for stop, Sir, and
lightning is for slow down.” Dorian gazed steadfastly at the floor.
Andrew picked up the cotton ropes.
“Have you ever been restrained before, using the technique of Shibari?”
“No, Sir.” Dorian spoke quietly.
Andrew unfurled a coil of rope. “I
usually do a full-body suspension when I demonstrate this technique, so I don’t
propose to make this a full demonstration. That would take hours. You should
find it comfortable but confining—and if I do it correctly, you’ll make
a very pretty picture.” Dorian quirked his eyebrows, and Andrew smiled.
“Shibari should always be aesthetically pleasing to the eye. It’s not just
about bondage.” He stood before Dorian. “On your back on the table, boy.”
Dorian complied immediately, getting up gracefully from the floor and climbing
onto the bondage table.
Andrew pushed Dorian’s left leg back
toward his arse, so that his heel met the curve of his buttock. He took the
first length of rope and wound it around his upper thigh, close to the groin,
securing ankle and thigh together and tying it in an intricate knot. He
repeated the process on the other side. Then he tied another rope around each
leg, this time closer to the knee.
Andrew pulled Dorian to his knees and
placed his hands behind him. He picked up the blindfold and a set of orange
foam ear defenders and showed them to the boy.
“I’m going to take away two of your
senses now,” he told the sub in a low voice that only Dorian could hear.
“You’ll be able to speak, but only safewords. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Sir.” Dorian’s voice was clear
Andrew slipped the blindfold over his
eyes. “I’m going to insert foam ear plugs into your ears. Remember, if you want
me to stop, or if you have a problem, use your safewords. I will always be
“Yes, Sir.” Dorian appeared calm, in
a state of complete readiness.
Andrew compressed the foam plugs and
placed them carefully into Dorian’s ears, watching them expand to fill the
cavities. He took a longer length of rope as he prepared to form the harness
down Dorian’s torso. He worked slowly, methodically, making sure each section
looked perfect before moving on to the next, until Dorian had an intricate
series of knots all down his front. He knew that each pull of the ropes over
his skin was heightening the experience for Dorian. Andrew was pleased. The
white ropes looked good against Dorian’s creamy skin, passing over his
shoulders and around his arms, down his torso, and at the uppermost part of the
thigh where leg met groin, slipping past his balls.
Dorian kept still as Andrew worked in
silence, making sure with every knot that Dorian was comfortable and in no sign
of physical or mental distress. When the harness was complete, Andrew stepped
back to survey it critically, adjusting a knot here, a length there. The boy
looked beautiful. Only one thing left to complete before I begin. He
picked up the leather boot laces and smiled to himself.
Andrew stood in front of the sub and
slowly trailed the thin strips of leather over Dorian’s balls and cock. Dorian
gave a slight shiver but then became still, his body tense as he awaited
Andrew’s next move. Andrew grabbed Dorian’s balls and pulled on them, feeling
the shudder which rippled through him. He tied the strip around and around the
balls in his hand, separating them from the shaft. He ran his fingers over the
sac, knowing full well that the stretch made Dorian’s balls extremely
sensitive. Andrew wrapped his hand around Dorian’s cock and stroked him gently,
watching as he hardened, loving the hitch in his breathing. When his dick
pointed skyward, Andrew looped another length around his cock and balls,
fashioning a leather cock ring around the base of his shaft until Dorian’s dick
was red and throbbing, looking painfully hard. Dorian let out a low moan and bit
his lower lip.
Andrew crossed to the table and
placed the banjo picks on each fingertip of one hand. He stood beside Dorian,
ensuring that Leo and Thomas had a clear view, and then trailed the picks down
the boy’s arm, feeling the brief start as the slivers of metal connected with
his skin. Andrew trailed his fingers over Dorian’s neck before moving slowly
over his back between the ropes, keeping his touch light. Then he moved to
stroke his inner thighs, noting the shivers which rippled through Dorian as he
brought his fingers higher, not quite reaching his balls.
Dorian quivered as Andrew stroked
along his inner arms, before moving ever so slowly down his torso, running his
fingers over the ropes, over the taut belly, until he arrived at the boy’s
groin. Andrew moved slowly, scraping the picks lightly over his skin, noting
Dorian’s shivers as he stroked along his cock. When he cupped the boy’s balls
and rippled his fingers over them, Dorian couldn’t repress the shudder that
jolted through him. Andrew toyed with his sac and cock, hearing his soft
whimpers as the metal danced over the sensitized areas. Dorian’s lips parted,
but no words came out, only sounds. Andrew ran both hands simultaneously across
Dorian’s back, watching the sub as he tried to arch away from his touch.
Andrew moved his hands away and took
off the picks, only to return with the spiked wheel. He paused, waiting until
Dorian was still once more, before running the tiny wheel over his thigh.
Dorian gasped as the wheel moved over his skin, tiny pinpricks of sensation.
Andrew moved the wheel away and reapplied it over Dorian’s chest, rolling it
close to his nipple. The sub squirmed as Andrew ran the wheel around his
nipple, leaned closer, gripped the other between his fingers, and twisted it slightly.
That got a definite reaction. Dorian hissed as he drew in a breath, the sharp
intake becoming a groan when Andrew moved the spiked wheel ever-so- slowly
along the length of his cock. He trembled as Andrew applied the wheel to
different areas, making sure the sub never knew where it would land next. When
he’d reduced Dorian to a squirming mass, Andrew grabbed the cup of ice.
Dorian whimpered as Andrew ran an ice
cube over his balls, and it became a low cry as Andrew simultaneously applied
the ice to his nipple. “Oh, fuck.” The words seemed dragged from him
involuntarily. Andrew circled Dorian, trailing the ice randomly over his skin,
watching him fight to control his reactions. Dorian twitched nervously, his
body tense as he awaited the next sensual onslaught.
Andrew put the banjo picks back on
his fingers and ran his hand over Dorian’s back once more, watching him shudder
as he moved lower, stroking over the globes of his arse and nearing his hole.
He slid a single finger from under his balls to the tip of his cock. Memories
assaulted him, as suddenly he was right there in Dorian’s place.
I’m doing everything you
taught me, Sir, he told Blade in his head. God, I remember you doing this to me. I
remember that searing, white-hot feeling that made me feel like I was coming
when I knew I wasn’t. He smiled to himself. Fuck, you were such a tease,
Dorian was panting, and Andrew pulled
back, not wanting to rush it. He intended to bring the boy to the edge again
and again. When Dorian had calmed a little, Andrew was back, scraping his
finger over the boy’s hole, feeling the tremors that rippled through his body,
his mouth opening slightly but no sounds issuing. Dorian’s cock was rigid.
Andrew grabbed another piece of ice and moved it slowly over Dorian’s arse
until it reached his hole. The boy stiffened as he ran the cube around the rim
before pushing insistently, the heat from Dorian’s hot little hole melting the
ice as he eased it into his anus. Dorian cried out, a low, urgent sound, and he
arched his back, as though trying to escape the sensations which Andrew knew
were coursing through his body right now.
And then it was Brian kneeling
before him, Brian moaning as Andrew pressed ice inside him.
Oh hell—the sounds you
made when I did this to you. I knew you weren’t okay with it, not at first, but
you soon forgot about the discomfort when it was my bare, hot cock sliding into
closed his eyes momentarily, the images there in the forefront of his mind. He
shook himself as the memories came thick and fast, some so painful that he
caught his breath. Not now. Can’t think of him now.