eXtreme Publishing 1

Geoff was bored. He had a good job as a product manager for a high-tech electronics manufacturer and the work was interesting, but he’d been doing it for too long. It was too easy. His wife had left him four years ago, when she discovered that he was having an affair with a girl ten years her junior. The girl had ditched him soon after. He’d fallen for her badly and therefore couldn’t focus his attention on pulling anyone else. After Susie, he just didn’t fancy anyone nearer his own age. As result, he was lonely as well as bored.

Geoff had a degree in electronic engineering and had worked in the industry all his life. He had followed that path as a serious young man concerned with earning a living, but his youthful ambitions had been to be either an actor or a writer – both livings that he considered too precarious. He had written several academic papers and he knew that he enjoyed writing and felt proficient in English. He always wanted to write a work of fiction, but could never come up with a convincing plot. Since his divorce and break up with Susie, he had tried to turn the slightly bizarre circumstances around these events into a plot. Louise had found out about Susie when the latter was arrested for conspiracy to defraud. Geoff was arrested too. They had been working on a project together, whose intellectual copyright their employer thought they wanted to steal and then set up in business on the basis of. In the end, they weren’t charged but they both lost their jobs and the stress of it all led to the break up.

This, Geoff thought, was the basis of an interesting story, but he couldn’t think of a credible ending. As a single man, he was naturally frustrated. A year or two ago he had discovered erotic novels on the top shelf in the newsagent and bought two or three. They were porn of course, rather than the great literature that he wanted to write, but reading them gave him an idea. What if his story could be told within the structure of this genre? The ending could then be the reuniting of the lovers. Susie hadn’t really left him, but had been enslaved by a sinister SM organization. He too would be enslaved and they would meet and escape.

After two weeks of typing every evening, he had the basic story written. He took a week off work and finished it. It was strong stuff and the ideas that kept coming to him as he wrote got increasingly extreme; the SM theme provided the twists in the story that he needed. He tried to balance the narrative by switching between male and female viewpoints. This led into homoerotic and well as lesbian fantasies. He needed to describe how a woman felt when she dressed and undressed, so he bought women’s clothing on the Internet and experimented with transvestism to get the authentic feel. He rewrote the material several times and eventually sent the manuscript to the publishers of the paperbacks that he had bought. He really didn’t want his friends to know that he had such an imagination and decided to use the tritely absurd pen name of Tania Hyde. It was the sort of name that one saw on such titles. Geoff chuckled as he sealed the envelopes containing his work.

He received acknowledgements from two of the three companies that he had approached. After three months, he had almost forgotten about the project and had completely given up hope of becoming an author of erotica. He was pottering about the house one Saturday morning when the postman delivered the mail. Expecting the usual junk and bills, he left it on the kitchen table while he made coffee and thought about his shopping list for the week. When he finally opened the post, there was a letter from Crewel Knit Publications. He tore open the envelope and read it.

Dear Mr Carswell,

Thank you for your manuscript entitled Extreme Publishing. I enjoyed reading it and we would like to proceed to publication, provided that that you agree to tone down some of the more extreme scenes. I enclose a copy of our standard contract.

If our terms are acceptable, perhaps you would telephone me and arrange an appointment to discuss the amendments.

Yours sincerely

A. Prentice (Mrs)

Managing Editor

Geoff telephoned the number given in the letter and asked for Mrs Prentice. She was in a meeting, so he explained his purpose and was put through to her secretary, who gave him appointment for Tuesday at 3:00pm. He could leave work early.

He found the address in Covent Garden easily enough and went through the glass door. A receptionist, whose bosom he couldn’t help but notice because of her low cut top, announced his presence by telephone and asked him to take a seat. After browsing the FT for a few minutes, Geoff watched a gorgeous, leggy blond come down the stairs behind the reception desk and walk over to him. As he looked up, she asked ‘Mr Carswell?’

‘That’s me,’ he said, getting up.

‘Mrs Prentice will see you now. This way please.’

He followed the girl up the stairs to the first floor and through an open plan office. The office was quiet, with everyone seemingly intent on their computer screens. The girl showed him into a glass-partitioned office at the far end of the floor.

The woman behind the desk did not rise, but said: ‘Take a seat Mr Carswell. Would you like coffee?’

‘That would be nice. Um – white without, please,’ he answered.

‘Be a dear, Zoë, and bring me one too,’ Mrs Prentice said to the blonde secretary.

Geoff sat opposite the woman who was regarding him intently over her glasses. She was slim with short brown hair and looked to be approaching 40. She was wearing a navy trouser suit and a man’s tie. She sat a little back from her desk with her legs crossed. After a moment Mrs Prentice spoke. ‘I enjoyed reading your novel, Geoff. May I call you that? It was very dirty, which is exactly what we want, I suppose. I got quite excited at times.’

Geoff smiled at the apparent compliment, imagining her with one hand down the front of her trousers and his book in the other.

She went on ‘I wanted us to have this preliminary meeting to discuss some cuts that our house style requires, but I also want to get some insight into the way you think. Would you describe yourself as a normal man?’

‘Yes, I suppose so.’

‘How old are you, Geoff?’

‘I’m 34.’

‘In the book you describe very convincingly how a man feels while he’s being buggered. Have you ever tried it yourself?’

Geoff was shocked. ‘No, I haven’t,’ he said. He had bought and tried a vibrator to get some authenticity though.

‘I suppose you use a vibrator up your arse then,’ said Mrs Prentice, to Geoff’s utter consternation, ‘and you can’t possibly have described the way it feels to be dressed in sexy underwear so well, unless you tried it out yourself. Come on, be honest with me Geoff.’

He paused, confused. ‘Well yes, I did find that I had to research those things a bit.’

Zoë brought the coffees in and left.

‘I bet you dressed up as a girl while you typed the female-viewpoint narrative. I bet you really saw yourself as Tania during those sessions. But never mind that, how about the punishment scenes, have you ever been caned or whipped by anyone – or caned a woman’s bottom?’

Now he’d started, Geoff felt obliged to be honest again: ‘A girlfriend of mine used to ask me to tie her up before we made love sometimes and she let me spank her once too. But I haven’t been spanked since childhood.’

Mrs Prentice paused at this, and then said, as though coming to a decision: ‘I want to find out more about you Geoff. If you were dressed as Tania, I think I could ask her my questions more easily. Are you brave enough to take my dare and come to this office dressed as Transvestite Tania? I really feel we can’t proceed with publishing your book until I meet the true author.’

Geoff was dumbstruck. He had indeed bought women’s underwear. It had been sexy to put it on. This had led to him wanting to try dresses and high heels. Next, he needed to learn how to apply make up. He looked so ridiculous in the mirror the first time he did so, that he bought a wig. He had felt like Tania. How did this woman see through him so easily? But he wasn’t a transvestite. From what he had read about it, TVs seemed to want really to be women and to conceal their male parts. Geoff had tried this but he always got such a hard on when he put on a dress, that concealing his sex between his legs was agony. He had fantasised about going to a TV club but never had the courage even to walk to the shops dressed as a woman. But the idea did intrigue him. Did he have the nerve? Mrs Prentice was silent, waiting for him.

‘What do you mean exactly?’ Geoff said eventually.

Mrs Prentice suddenly leaned forward and placed her hands on the desk: ‘If you want us to be your publisher, you will come back to this office on Friday dressed as Tania. I want you to make her as realistic as possible.’

She picked up the phone and dialled.

‘Zoë, Mr Carswell will be leaving in a moment. Would you show him out?’

She replaced the receiver and sipped her coffee. Geoff hadn’t touched his. Now he was afraid his hand would shake if he picked the cup up.

‘Here is our contract for you to sign, and this document details the cuts we will need,’ she said pushing some papers towards him. ‘Tania can bring them back for my signature on Friday. Be here at 4:30 sharp’.

Geoff put the papers in his briefcase as Zoë came in to collect him and show him out. On the tube home, he kept getting an embarrassing erection.

On Wednesday, he called in and said he’d being working from home for the rest of the week. He practised dressing as Tania and perfecting her make up. It made him horny and he had to relieve himself twice. He practised walking in high heels.

Geoff realized that he couldn’t bring himself to walk down the road like this; he had no woman’s overcoat and, worst still, no handbag. He would need one, to put money in. Without a coat, his maleness might give him away. Next morning he went to a nearby luggage shop in Acton and chose a small leather shoulder bag – saying it was a gift for his wife. He found a woman’s car coat that looked as if it would be big enough in a charity shop in the High Street. He tried the coat on when he got home and looked in the mirror in his bedroom. His legs would give him away. The hairs showed through even black stockings.

Geoff found an old shaving brush and a stick of shaving soap. He took these with a razor into the shower. After washing, he turned the water off and lathered his legs. Carefully, he started shaving the hair off his calves. He was amazed at how smooth his skin felt when he rinsed them under the showerhead. Then he thought he’d better go well above the knees – in case anyone looked up his skirt while seated on the Central Line. Somehow, he ended up shaving right up to the crack between his buttocks and, taking extra care, he shaved himself between the legs. The hair on his chest was visible over the neckline of his favourite dress when he dressed up. Remembering this, he decided to go the whole hog. After drying himself and trying some stockings on his newly smooth legs, he found a pair of scissors and trimmed as much hair as he could off his chest and arms. Then he went back to the shower and lathered these areas for shaving too.

That evening he went to the pub after cooking dinner. He was sure that none of his mates saw anything amiss – but he had made sure to wear a polo necked sweater.

Friday dragged until lunchtime. He tried to work but couldn’t concentrate. He made a sandwich at lunchtime and thought he’d better start getting ready. Knowing from his previous experiments that this would be the trickiest task, Geoff applied himself to making his face up first. He washed and shaved his face with extra care. Then he found the wash bag where he kept his make-up things and took it, with the shaving mirror from the bathroom, into the dining room. He applied a tiny amount of cream foundation to the whole of his face with a sponge then some green eye shadow to his upper eyelids. He found a pencil and very carefully drew a black line around each eye, adding a smile line at the outer corners; he would have to practise that. Mascara wasn’t too hard and he applied some to his eyebrows as well as lashes. Rose blusher and some bright red lipstick completed the job. He put his wig on and looked at himself. To his surprise, a woman’s face stared back at him. Not a beautiful woman but definitely female. She looked a little older than Geoff did. He went to the bedroom and put on a black bra and a pair of black cotton knickers with a tiny bow at the front and a pretty lace trim. He found the breast enhancers that he had bought and put them in the cups of the bra. Then he pulled and rolled sheer black tights up his smooth legs. He looked in the mirror on the wardrobe door and slipped on his high heels. Most women wouldn’t be ashamed of those legs, he thought. He squeezed his artificial breasts. They felt surprisingly realistic. Dressing up like this made him feel incredibly sexy and horny. He wiped the fluid from the end of his penis with a tissue and decided to tape it to his stomach with surgical tape as soon as he could make it flaccid enough, by sheer willpower. This done, he pulled up the briefs and tights again and stepped into his favourite dress: a short-sleeved navy one-piece in stretch fabric. With difficulty, he managed to zip it up the back. It was a tight fit and hugged him around the waist and chest. He put his wig on again and looked in the mirror. There was Tania: tall and slim, if a bit stocky for a woman, with small but visible breasts, slender, shapely legs and straight, dark brown hair that curled in at her neckline. Geoff was glad the wig covered his ears; he wouldn’t need earrings.

At 3:45, Geoff put on his secondhand coat, picked up his new bag and stepped out of his house and into the street in high heels for the first time. As he had expected, he had to take very small steps and swing his hips to walk in heels. His calf muscles had started to hurt by the time he got the station. As he waited on the platform, and throughout the rest of the journey, he glanced around to see if anyone had found him out. He got on a train and sat with his knees pressed self-consciously together and his new bag resting on them. He pretended to read the publishing contract that he had brought with him.

When he teetered into the Crewel Knit reception the familiar face of the receptionist looked up. He was about say his name when he stopped himself and, affecting a soft rather than high voice, said ‘Miss Hyde. I’ve an appointment with Mrs Prentice.’

He stood until Mrs Prentice’s lovely secretary – Zoë wasn’t it – collected him and led him upstairs. She was wearing a charcoal jersey dress that hugged her body. He tried not to look at her swaying hips as he followed her up the stairs.

Mrs Prentice invited him in with a ‘Tania, how lovely you look. Please take a seat.’

He handed her the contracts and she signed both copies.

‘Congratulations on becoming an author, Tania. I hope this will not be your last novel with us. Do you intend to write more in this vein?’

Geoff said he had a sequel sketched out already.

‘In that case, you should try to inject more realism into it. I am particularly concerned that you’ve never experienced spanking. Would you like to try – just to see what it feels like?’

Geoff didn’t think he wanted to cross that line; fantasy was one thing, but . . . But the cross-dressing had helped his muse though. ‘I’m not sure. I don’t think I’d like to at all but, well I’m slightly tempted: just to know, just once,’ he stammered, conscious of his man’s voice again.

‘I’m glad you agree, because you deserve a good spanking for being late.’ Her tone was that of an angry headmistress. Giles hadn’t worn his watch because it was a man’s model. He looked at the wall clock. It was ten to five already.

‘Across my desk, you naughty girl. Now!’ she shouted.

Geoff thought she must be joking. He looked round. The open plan office was deserted.

‘My staff leave early on Fridays,’ said Mrs Prentice. ‘Now over my desk! Grip the edge.’

Geoff thought that he might as well. He stood and bent across the desk resting on his palms as his fingers gripped the edge. This was a bit exciting.

Mrs Prentice opened a drawer in the desk and said ‘I’m going to handcuff you for your spanking, to make it more like what happens in a book. You can experience the feeling of helplessness that bondage brings about.’

She produced a pair of handcuffs and clipped them onto his wrists. Next, she bent and picked up something. She clicked a padlock to the short chain joining his wrists. Geoff tested it. The chain must be fixed at its other end somehow. Climbing over the desk was his only escape route, but he’d still be chained to the spot, he thought. Mrs Prentice came round the desk and carefully pulled up Geoff’s dress to above his waist. Then she pulled down his tights to his knees. He certainly felt helpless now.

‘What pretty knickers the naughty little baggage has on. Let’s take them down and see her naughty bottom that deserves to be punished.’ She took his panties down and then squeezed his scrotum hard enough to be uncomfortable but not hard enough to really hurt. Keeping hold, she said ‘Ask nicely for your punishment Tania, you worthless slut.’

Geoff thought of scenes in his book and said ‘Please spank my naughty bottom, Mistress’.

She started spanking him slowly. It hurt, but not as much as he expected. She spanked harder until he started pleading with her to stop.

‘Ouch! Ouch! No more please! Please, Mistress, stop; please.’

Eventually she stopped. His bum felt like it was on fire.

‘Get your tart’s legs apart,’ the woman commanded, pulling one of his ankles and then the other until his stomach was on the desk. With her hand resting on his waist, she picked up the telephone. ‘Zoë, be so kind as to bring the cane to me.’

Geoff tried to protest and get up but she stopped him easily with a few hard smacks. He didn’t want that girl to see him this way: feminized and vulnerable. He felt himself blush as he heard the door open. Zoë handed a rattan cane to Mrs Prentice. And he hadn’t agreed to a caning. Had he? He was too embarrassed to say anything.

Mrs Prentice felt underneath him and found his prick. It was hard. As she stroked it, he heard her whisper. ‘Now I’m going to give you six hard strokes across your pathetic arse with my cane for being late for your appointment, slut. Zoë will watch. It will remind her of what will happen to her when she’s late for work.’

The first stroke fell across Geoff’s right buttock. The pain didn’t come until a second or two later, but when it did, it stung like mad. Mrs Prentice waited, applied the next stroke to the left cheek and waited again. When all six strokes were over Geoff had tears in his eyes.

‘Very well, girl. I’m pleased and surprised that you took your punishment so well, Tania. Look what a lovely colour her bum is, Zoë. Now I’m going to untie you if you promise to be a good girl and do what you’re told in future.’

She waited until Geoff said, in his most servile and girly voice, ‘I’m sorry I was late, Miss, and I promise to be ever so good and do what I’m told always.’

She unchained him but left the cuffs on. He stood up painfully. His arse was ablaze still and now ached as well.

‘What’s that ridiculous little thing stuck to your tummy, Tania? Turn round and show Zoë. What do you think, Zoë?’

He turned reluctantly, still feeling helpless in the cuffs. Zoë approached and pulled the tape off. It pulled away some of his pubes with it and he winced. ‘It looks like a man’s penis, Mistress,’ said Zoë.

He felt utterly ridiculous, standing there in high heels with his skirt round his waist and his knickers and tights round his knees.
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Disclaimer: All posted stories include descriptions of sex scenes that could cause offence to some people. Please do not read this story if you are offended by perverse sexual material, or if you are under the legal age of consent for your own country. These stories are pure fiction and are not based on anyone living or deceased.