Pathetic Peter (Part 1)



In the clinging dark of a hot night Peter lay tightly tucked in bed. The 16 year old boy’s ankles were securely chained to the end of the bed and hands, encased in bondage mittens restrained by his side. He was hot, sweaty and with no power to kick off the bedclothes. And what bed clothes they were, vivid pink, as sickly as sugar candy with pictures of Barbie smiling blankly back at him. Despite the discomfort and humiliation Peter could feel his rampant cock pushing against the satin of a sissy pink nightie, an oversized replica of what a 5 year old girl would have. Peter silently prayed he could keep the garment stain free, but what chance had he when his entire mind was in turmoil with the memory of what Aunty Kate was deliberately and ruthlessly doing to him.




Only a few days ago Peter had arrived at his aunt’s house a normal and healthy youth to spend the summer holidays with her by the sea. She was a dressmaker and her husband, Uncle Roy, His mother’s brother a soldier, posted to Afghanistan. With nothing to do until A levels begun in September the sisters-in-law had agreed Peter should visit, help around the house and enjoy the sea air. But Peter wasn’t really keeping up his end of the bargain. His household help was slapdash and he had already formed a habit of rising late and spending much of the day watching girls in their bikinis on the beach. Then in the evening Aunt Kate’s body would make his hormones race again. Despite being in her early 40s Kate still had a well proportioned figure. Her legs were shapely and breasts full and firm and although she never wore the skimpy clothing of the teenage girls her knee length skirts and tight tops held huge fascination for Peter. For one thing Aunt Kate favoured shear nylons and high healed shiny shoes, to compensate for her slightly short stature. As she had worn 4 inch heels or more since her own teen’s Kate was naturally and expert at walking in them gracefully. In the evenings she would sit on the sofa and cross her legs at the thigh while Peter made a rudimentary effort with the washing up. Peter though his aunt never knew how he ogled her from the kitchen, straining to see if she really was wearing stockings under her sensible but well cut skirt, never knew that by the time he went to bed, Peter would have a raging hard on which he noisily wanked to shattering orgasms alone in the spare bedroom. Peter thought wrong.




Aunt Kate was well aware of the affect her body had on the teen. Well aware too that the arrangement for domestic help wasn’t working quite as well as she and Peter’s mother has planned. But the resourceful woman had decided to use this to her advantage and take things in a new and exciting direction. While Peter wasted his time at the beach, leaving the household chores to build up, Kate  worked doubly hard to complete the commission of 3 bridesmaid’s dresses that would give her enough ready cash to take a week off work.  As she had bought the material (a pastel lilac satin) in bulk she had enough for one extra, very special garment. For the other thing that Peter did not know about his aunt was that the thing she most craved in the world her, husband career’s and her body was denying her, a beautiful baby, a baby girl.




When on the forth evening of his stay Aunt Kate announced she would make their nightly coffee, Peter thought nothing of it and so was oblivious to the little blue pill the older woman dropped into the brew. That night Peter went to bed with an even more urgent erection than ever before and was soon pulling at his engorged cock in the darkness.  But the ensuing jet of spunk did not satisfy his lust and time and time again his hand wandered back to his cock, his mind unable to sleep focussed again on the mature curves and poise of his sexy aunt.


The next thing Peter knew was his aunt opening the bedroom curtains at the ungodly hour 7am.


“Wakey wakey rise and shine.”  Dressed in a smooth lemon blouse, thin enough to show her bra straps and with 2 buttons undone, plus jeans that showed off the contours of her legs Kate was smiling to herself , knowing what was about to happen. Abruptly she pulled the bedclothes away from the dozing boy. “Come on now it’s too good a day to laze in bed, You need to… What on earth do we have here.” With little effort Kate shifted her voice from forced jollity to mock anger, knowing full well what to expect.  Even so the size and rigidness of the lad’s early morning stiffy amazed her. “When I said rise and shine, I did not mean that.” She stormed pointing at the cock,” And what have you done to my sheets?”


Peter, startled awake by the intrusion started to realise where he was. He looked down at his exposed body, and saw the monster erection wavering in the suddenly chilly air, and next to it a tell-tale stain of  spent spunk. He wished he was still asleep instead of living a sudden nightmare.


“What have you to say for yourself young man?”


“I’m, er I’m really sorry Aunt.”


“Hmm I bet you are. Really sorry you’ve been found out more likely. I wonder what your mother will have to say.”


“What-  no, you can’t tell Mum, she’ll kill me. Please don’t do it. I’ll wash the sheets, clean the room do whatever you want.”


Kate smiled deviously, this was working out better than she could have hoped. The pathetic boy was already scared of her. “Hmm, you will do that will you? That would certainly be an improvement on your attitude so far. We will discuss the matter after breakfast. Which you are going to serve me. AFTER you have had a shower.”




Some while later Peter appeared at the breakfast table, head bowed unable to look his aunt in the face. He was clad in jeans and t-shirt and was no longer the cocky youth or the past few days but a scared little boy. After supplying his Aunt with cereal toast and a hot mug of tea he nervously nibbled at his slice of toast and drank coffee and juice.


“So,”  cried Aunt Kate, “You wish me to refrain from telling your mother about your nightly masturbation?”


Peter felt his cheeks turn beetroot. “Please Aunty. I didn’t mean any harm, it’s all those pretty girls on the sea front, they get me excited and I can’t stop thinking about them.”


“I see, well I will just have to find a way to take your mind off those tarts, after all we don’t want you getting them pregnant do we?” It was a rhetorical question but Peter’s mid raced, the girls he saw on the beech had formed tough gangs and were very confident about their own bodies and lifestyle, totally out of shy Peter’s league, he knew he would be very unlikely to even snog one of them and the thought of sex made his mind reel.  “So today you are going to clean this house from top to bottom while I complete the work I need to do. You will be so tired from all the scrubbing that you won’t have the energy to even think about those teenage temptresses. Once you have shown me you can be useful about the house we will start again.”


“Thank you Aunt, I’ll do whatever you want.”


“Oh I know you will darling.” Peter’s head was in such a spin that he did not pick up on the tone of his ruthless Aunt’s voice. Had he done so he would have been even more worried.




The day passed for Peter slowly and achingly. It was hot shut up in the house, lugging the heavy vacuum  cleaner from room to room, polishing the shiny surfaces with glass cleaner and pushing a feather duster on along pole to the corners of the high ceilings. He fed the washing machine and  prepared mid day sandwiches for his Aunt and himself. Silently Kate watched him eat, satisfied she was gaining control of the boy, by the end of the day he’s be too warn out to think strait and then it would be too late. She went a checked the rooms he’d cleaned and ordered Peter to re-vacuum the stairs were he had missed patches of dust and dirt.




In the afternoon Peter struggled with the ironing board and hot steam iron. Aunt Kate gave him a brief lesson in how to use the steamer and made clear the consequences of Peter ruining her clothing. Unused to this kind of domestic labour Peter did the best he could and while nowhere near perfect found he could be satisfied in making a half decent job of it. When he came to the small pile of underwire at the bottom of the laundry basket his cock sprang back up to attention, shamefully reminding him of how he had got in this mess in the first place.  Peter was also made to cook the evening meal, something else he was unfamiliar with. Rummaging through the freezer he managed to put together pie, potatoes and peas without burning the pastry (much) and defrost an orange cheesecake for dessert.   Aunt Kate, now dressed in a slightly shorter and tighter skirt than usual, sipping a glass of wine  enjoyed her meal. She had completed her 4th dress of the week and was looking forward to its fitting.  She took her coffee on the sofa, making sure her legs were crossed thigh high and one shoe dangled provocatively from her toes, exposing the heel, covered in thin nylon and watched as the youth’s tired eyes were hypnotically drawn to her shapely calves.




Peter completed his final chore of the day, the washing up, to a much higher standard than he had achieved all week. Muscles aching he came back into the lounge and made for the sofa.


“No,” said his Aunt, “don’t sit down yet, we should discuss your efforts today.” Peter stood in front of her feeling like a naughty schoolboy before a strict Headmistress. “I am pleased,” she continued, “with the results of your spring cleaning, though if you had only tried earlier this week we would not be in the position we are now.   Nevertheless the house is much fresher and will not require such a thorough going over for a while. Your attempts at cookery and ironing are passable but next time you are asked to perform such tasks I expect to see an improvement.  Is that clear young man?”


“Yes Aunt”


“Good. Now  I promised that after today we could start again and as a woman who keeps her promises that is what I propose to do.  I have no further dressmaking work this week, so in order to teach you how to behave properly in the future I am going to take personal care of you, no more cleaning for you  this week, we are going back to square one.”


“OK.”  Peter’s voice did not convey understanding, exactly what Kate was planning on. She re-crossed  her legs deliberately flashing her red panties at him from the low sofa.


“Time you were out of those horrid dirty clothes and into something clean, go upstairs and change.”


Dazed he obeyed and she followed him up the recently cleaned stairway. Something in the back of Peter’s mind was whispering this wasn’t somehow right. As he opened the door to his room the reason why hit him in the face. Hung from the wardrobe door was a pretty, sissy, silky lilac bridesmaid dress with a creamy frilly underskirt, an exact copy of the ones Kate had made for her client, but scaled up to fit a 16 year old boy.


“What the fuck is that, are you having a laugh bitch? I’ve bloody slaved for you all day and you put a stupid dress in my…”


SLAP, he didn’t really see her hand move, just a flash of red nail vanish as Aunt Kate viciously slapped his face making it sting.  “Don’t you dare speak to me like that. I told you this morning I would be in contact with your mother unless your attitude improved and my mobile is in my handbag.  Only this morning you promised to do what you were told. I don’t break promises, will you?”


“Yeah but I never thought...”


“I do not care what you thought, do as you are told means do as you are told in this house. Now strip down and I will help you into your new outfit, don’t be a prude it’s nothing I’ve not seen before and you are in serious need of retraining.”




She stood there, blocking the doorway, hands on hip and the last grains of resistance drained away from the defeated boy. He knew now that to avoid further trouble with his mother he would have to let his frankly crazy aunt do whatever she wanted with him.  Peter felt weak, venerable  and humiliated, but despite all of that and his tiredness Peter’s cock was once again rampant, somehow  to woman had drilled into his soul and there was nothing he could do to stop it.  Fresh white knickers were pulled over his legs and the hated, prissy dress down over his face, it stopped ridiculously above his knees in stark contrast to the thickening hairs on his legs. Then white ankle socks with frilly ruffles were handed to him with the command was to put them on sharp. Kate stood back and admired her handywork. “Leg shaving for you in the morning,” she said “and I will look on the internet tonight to find some suitable shoes.” Peter’s face was crimson.




Holding Aunty’s hand “like a good girl” Peter was led back downstairs and told to sit on the floor. A  rag doll, Kate had made years ago was handed down to him.  Aunt Kate then proceeded to ignore him, working on her laptop, Ipod plugged into her ears. All Peter could do was cradle to doll and stare at his aunt’s shoes, he dare not disobey.  At length Peter was marched back upstairs, disrobed and made to sit on the toilet to pee while Kate went back into his room.  When he was at last told to enter Peter saw pink nighty, the chains on the bed posts, the strange looking bondage mittens on the pillow and the vacant smile of Barbie on the bedspread. His nightmare was just beginning.