#beta virgin

Are you ready to serve me ?

Are you ready to be hypnotized or brainwashed?

Selfishness deleted.

Good Beta Protocol now active.

Polite. Obedient. Attentive. Useful.

This is the version of you she actually wants to keep.

The Log Cabin: Part V — Sissy's Destiny

The cage is cool against your skin.

You've been wearing it all afternoon — since Madison found the right one at the little shop in town.

A flat metal plate that hugs your pubic bone, your soft cock pressed flush against your body, held in place by a ring around your balls. The key hangs on a thin chain around Madison's neck.

You've gotten used to the weight. The constant pressure. The way you can't get hard anymore — can only feel the frustrated pulse of blood against the metal, trapped, contained.

You're wearing it now, under a sundress — pink, thin, with thin straps. Grace picked it out. Said it matched your complexion. Madison and Tracey agreed. You didn't argue.

The girls leave before dinner.

They hug you goodbye — both of them, warm and lingering. Grace's hand cups your cheek. Her thumb traces your lower lip.

"You did so well," she says. "Madison's lucky to have found you."

Tracey kisses your forehead. "Be a good sissy for her."

You watch their car disappear down the dirt road. Madison's hand finds yours. Squeezes.

"You'll see them again," she says.

Dinner is simple. Michael grilled chicken on the deck. Your aunt made a salad. Madison set the table.

The four of you sit around the picnic table as the sun sinks toward the treeline, painting the lake in shades of orange and gold.

You're quiet. You've been quiet all day. But your body is not quiet. Your body is a constant hum of awareness — the cage, the plug Madison inserted before dinner, the way the sundress feels against your bare legs.

Your aunt reaches across the table and squeezes your hand.

"You look pretty tonight, sweetie."

You mumble a thank you. Your face warms.

"And you look...," she says, "...you look so much more peaceful."

You feel it. You hate how much you feel it.

Madison sets down her fork. Wipes her mouth. Looks around the table.

"So," she says. "Tony's coming up tonight."

Your heart stops. Your chest tightens. Your throat closes. Your hand drops to your lap, touches the smooth surface of the cage through your sundress.

Madison's hand finds yours under the table. Squeezes.

"Hey," she says softly. "Look at me."

You look at her. Her eyes are warm. Patient.

"I'm not going anywhere," she says. "You're mine now. That doesn't change because Tony exists."

"But —"

"He knows about you. Not everything. But he knows I've been training a sissy. He's curious."

Your stomach churns. "He — he knows?"

"Of course he knows. I don't keep secrets from my boyfriend." She squeezes your hand again. "He's excited to meet you. But not tonight. Tonight, he and I need some time. To reconnect."

Your aunt clears her throat. "Which brings us to the sleeping arrangements."

You look at her. She's smiling — that same warm, maternal smile she's worn all week.

"There are only two bedrooms," she says. "And Tony will be sharing with Madison. So you'll be staying with us."

Your eyes widen. "With — with you and Michael?"

"On the bench at the foot of the bed," Michael says. His voice is flat. Matter-of-fact.

You look at the three of them. At their calm, expectant faces. They've already decided. They've already planned this.

"But —"

"It's just for a little while," Madison says. "Tony needs to see that you know your place. That you're a sissy. Do this for me, okay?"

You look at her. At her warm eyes. At her patient smile. And you nod.

"Good boy," she says.

Michael stands. Stretches. His t-shirt rides up, revealing a strip of his stomach. You look away.

"Let's get settled," he says. "Tony should be here soon."

You follow Michael and your aunt into the master bedroom.

It's a simple room. A queen bed with a quilted coverlet. A dresser. A nightstand. And at the foot of the bed, a wooden bench with a cushion.

Your bed for the night.

Your aunt sits on the edge of the bed. Pats the spot beside her.

"Come sit, sweetie."

You sit. She takes your hand. Her fingers are warm.

"Your mother called me this morning," she says.

You look at her. "What?"

"She wanted to check in. See how you were doing." She smiles. "I told her everything. About Madison. About the bra and panties. About the cage."

Your face burns. "You — you told her?"

"Of course I did. She's your mother. She has a right to know." She squeezes your hand. "And she's so proud of you."

"Proud?"

"Of course. She said you're doing exactly what she hoped you would do. Finding your place. Learning who you are."

You don't understand. You can't understand. Your mother knows. Your mother knows you're wearing a cage. That you've been fucked with a dildo. That you're about to sleep at the foot of your aunt's bed while her boyfriend fucks her.

And she's proud?

"Remember, sweetie, your father," she says, "is just like you."

You've heard this before. But hearing it again — in this room, in this moment — it hits differently.

"He's a sissy," she continues. "Small. Responsive. But he also needed guidance at first. Needed training."

"Your mother and I — we trained him together. When we were young. Before either of us was married."

Your throat is dry. "Trained him how?"

She smiles. "The same way we're training you."

She stands. Walks to the dresser. Opens the top drawer. Pulls out something small. A bottle of lubricant.

"Michael," she says, "would you undress for us?"

Michael stands. Pulls off his t-shirt. His chest is broad, covered in dark hair. He unfastens his jeans. Steps out of them. His boxers are tight, his cock already half-hard, a thick ridge pressing against the fabric.

He pulls down his boxers.

It's huge. Thick. Veined. The head is dark and swollen, already slick with precum. It hangs heavy between his thighs, a weight, a presence.

"Come here," your aunt says.

Michael steps closer. She reaches out. Wraps her hand around his cock. Strokes it once, slowly. It hardens fully in her grip.

"This," she says, turning to you, "is what a real cock looks like."

She guides Michael to the bed. He stands in front of you, his cock at eye level. You can smell him — musk, salt, warmth.

You can't look away from Michael's cock. It's inches from your face. You can see every vein. Every ridge. The way it twitches.

"Your father's first time was with my boyfriend. Back when we were in college. Your mother asked me to help. She said he needed to learn. Needed to understand his place."

She strokes Michael's cock slowly. A drop of precum forms at the tip. Hovers. She rubs her thumb through it.

"I taught your dad how to suck cock," she says. "Right here. In this cabin. On this bed."

Your breath catches.

"Like father, like son."

She takes your hand. Guides it to Michael's cock. Your fingers wrap around it. It's hot. Heavy. Alive.

"Touch it," she says. "Feel what a real cock feels like."

You stroke it. Once. Twice. Michael's breath hitches. His hand comes to rest on your head.

"Now," your aunt says, "open your mouth."

You look at her. At her warm, patient smile.

"I — I don't —"

"You do," she says. "You've wanted this all week. Every time you saw Michael. Every time you heard him fucking me. You've wondered what it would feel like. What it would taste like."

Your hand is still wrapped around his cock. Your mouth is dry.

"Open," she says.

And you do.

Your lips part. Your tongue extends. The head of Michael's cock presses against your lower lip. Salty. Warm.

"Good," your aunt breathes. "Now take him in."

You close your eyes. You open your mouth wider. And Michael's cock slides past your lips.

It fills your mouth completely. The head presses against your tongue. The shaft stretches your lips. You taste him — salt, skin, the faint bitterness of precum.

"Just breathe," your aunt says. "Breathe through your nose. Relax your throat."

Michael's hand rests on the back of your head. Gentle. Guiding.

"Move with him," your aunt says. "In and out. Like this."

She demonstrates with her hand — slow, steady strokes on his shaft. You mimic the motion with your mouth. Michael groans. A low, rumbling sound.

"That's it," he says. "Just like that."

Your aunt's hand cups your cheek. Her thumb traces the corner of your mouth, where it's stretched around his cock.

"Look at you," she murmurs. "Taking your first real cock. Just like your father. You're doing so well."

You feel it in your throat. The pressure. The stretch. The way your body is learning to accommodate him. Your tongue moves instinctively, pressing against the underside of his shaft.

"Your mother would be so proud," your aunt says. "She told me to tell you that. She said she knew you'd be good at this."

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes. You can't tell if they're from the stretch or from something else.

Michael's hand tightens on your head. He pushes deeper. The head presses against the back of your throat. You gag. Your body convulses. But his hand holds you there, steady, patient.

"Breathe," your aunt says. "Breathe through it."

You try. You focus. Your throat relaxes. And suddenly he's past the resistance, sliding deeper, filling you completely.

"UnnnGH," Michael groans. "Ffffuuuck — that's good."

You can't breathe. You can't think. You're full of him. Your nose is pressed against his pelvis. His balls are against your chin. Your hands are gripping his thighs. Your throat is stretched around his cock.

And then he pulls back. Slowly. Letting you breathe.

"Good boy," your aunt says. "So good. Show me," she says. "Show me how a good sissy sucks cock."

You take Michael back into your mouth. Deeper this time. More confident. Your hands find his thighs. Your tongue works the underside of his shaft.

"Yesss," he breathes. "Just like that."

Your aunt watches. Her hand rests on your head. Stroking your hair.

"You're a natural," she says. "Just like your father."

She lets you work for a while. Minutes. Maybe longer. Time loses meaning. There's only Michael's cock in your mouth, his hand on your head, your aunt's voice guiding you.

When Michael's breathing gets ragged, when his hips start to thrust, your aunt touches his arm.

"Not yet," she says. "She's not ready for that yet."

Michael pulls out. His cock is slick with your saliva. It throbs in the air.

"Lie back," your aunt says to you. "On the bed."

You lie back. The quilt is soft beneath you. Your aunt climbs over you, straddles your chest. Her knees are on either side of your head. She shrugs off the light sundress she was wearing, and you can see the outline of her pussy between her thighs, the dark triangle above.

"Watch," she says. "Watch how a real man fucks a woman."

Michael steps between her legs. His cock is still hard, still slick. He guides it to her pussy. Presses.

She moans. A low, shuddering sound.

"Ffffuuuck," she breathes. "Yessss —"

He pushes in. She takes him. His hands grip her hips.

"Look," she says, looking down at you. "Look at him filling me."

You watch. His cock disappears into her. Her pussy accepts him. Her pussy stretches around him.

"Your little penis could never do this," she says. "Could never fill a woman. Could never satisfy her."

She reaches down. Touches the cage between your legs. It's warm. Pressed against your body.

"This is where you belong," she says. "In a cage. Watching real men do what you can't."

Michael starts to move. Slow, deep thrusts. Your aunt moans with each one. Her body rocks above you.

"UunnnGH," she groans. "Yesss — right there —"

You watch his cock slide in and out of her. Watch her pussy grip him. Watch the way his balls slap against her with each thrust.

Your own body is aching. The cage is tight. Your arousal is trapped, building, pressing against the metal.

"He wants to come, doesn't he?" your aunt says, looking down at you. "Your little guy wants to spurt."

She reaches down. Touches the cage. Her finger traces the outline of your trapped cock.

"Not yet," she says. "You'll come like a girl now. Soon."

She moans again. Her body tenses. Her back arches.

"I'm — I'm close —"

Michael fucks her faster. Harder. The bed creaks. Her moans fill the room.

"Come for me," Michael grunts. "Come on my cock."

She does. Her body convulses. Her pussy clenches around him. She cries out — a long, raw sound.

And then she collapses. Panting. Sweating. Her body limp above you.

Michael is still hard. Still thick. Still buried inside her.

"He's not done," your aunt says, catching her breath. "A real man is the last to be satisfied."

She climbs off. His cock slips out of her pussy. She lies beside you on the bed. Her hand finds yours. Squeezes.

"Your turn," she says.

Michael stands ready. His cock is glistening. He steps toward you.

"Turn around. Stay on your back," your aunt says. "Legs up."

You obey. You spin. Your legs go up. Your hands grip your thighs, pulling them back. Your asshole is exposed. Pink. Tight. Ready.

Your aunt takes the lube. Squeezes it onto her fingers. Reaches between your legs.

"Just relax," she says. "Breathe."

Her fingers slide into you. You gasp. She works them deeper, stretching you, preparing you.

"Her pussy's ready," she says. "Be gentle with her."

Michael steps between your legs. The head of his cock presses against your asshole.

You can't breathe. You can't think.

"Breathe," your aunt says. "Push back against him. Let your pussy receive him."

You try. You push. The head presses harder. Your hole stretches. Burns.

And then it pops through.

You cry out. A sharp, surprised sound.

"There," your aunt breathes. "There you go."

Michael holds still. Lets you adjust. His cock is inside you. Stretching you. Filling you in a way the dildo never could.

He's real. He's warm. He's alive.

"Now," your aunt says, "listen."

From the other room, a new sound. Madison's voice. A soft moan. Then a man's low rumble.

Tony has arrived.

The bed starts creaking next door.

"Ffffuuuck," Madison moans. "Yesss — right there —"

Michael starts to move. In rhythm with the sounds through the wall.

Creak. He pushes in.

Moan. He pulls out.

Creak. He pushes in.

Your aunt holds your legs. Spreads you wider. Watches his cock slide into you.

"Look at that," she murmurs. "Look at him stretching your pussy."

You feel it. Every inch. Every vein. Every ridge. He's deeper than the dildo. Thicker. He fills you completely.

From next door, Madison's moans are building. Higher. More desperate.

"Fuck me, Tony," she cries. "Fuck your girl —"

Michael fucks you in time. Faster. Harder. The bed creaks beneath you.

"Come with her," your aunt says. "Come with Madison. Let go."

You feel it building. The pressure inside you. The cage is tight against your trapped cock. Your arousal has nowhere to go.

And then it hits you.

Your body convulses. Your ass clenches around Michael's cock. Your cock pulses in the cage — cum spits through the opening, a hands-free orgasm that rips through you.

"Yesss," your aunt breathes. "That's it. That's a good sissy."

Michael keeps fucking you through it. Keeps driving into you. Your body is limp, trembling, completely open.

From next door, Madison cries out. A long, shuddering moan.

And Michael groans. His hips stutter. He buries himself in your ass. His cock pulses inside you.

He's coming.

You feel it. Hot. Thick. Filling you. Breeding you. He pumps into you, once, twice, three times.

And then he stills.

The room is quiet except for your gasping breaths.

Michael pulls out slowly. You feel empty. Cold. His cum drips from your hole onto the sheets.

Your aunt strokes your hair.

"You did so well," she whispers. "So well."

She looks at Michael. He's softening. His cock is slick with his own cum and yours.

"He's not done," she says. "A real man needs to be cleaned."

You know what she means.

You get on your hands and knees. You lower your head. You take Michael's cock back into your mouth.

It's salty. Bitter. Covered in your own fluids and his.

You clean him. Your tongue works his shaft. Your lips suck him gently. He groans. His hand rests on your head.

"Good girl," he says.

When he's clean, you sit back. Your mouth is sore. Your throat is raw. Your ass is aching.

Your aunt pulls you against her. You're the little spoon. Her arm wraps around your waist.

From next door, Madison's soft murmurs. Tony's low laugh.

"Maybe," your aunt whispers, "Madison is ready for her sissy to return."

She kisses your ear.

"Go on. She's waiting for you."

You stand. Your legs are shaky. Your body is sore. You're still wearing the black lace bra and panties. The cage is still locked between your legs.

You walk to the door. Open it.

The hallway is dark. The door to Madison's room is cracked open.

You push it open.

The room is dim. Tony is asleep — a large shape under the covers. His arm is thrown over Madison's waist.

Madison is awake. She sees you. Smiles.

Warm. Patient. Loving.

She holds out her arm.

You cross the room. You climb onto the bed. You curl against her. She pulls you close. Her arm wraps around you.

"Welcome back, sissy," she whispers.

You close your eyes.

You're home.

This is the fifth and final post in The Log Cabin series. Thank you for reading.

Previously: The Log Cabin: Part I | The Log Cabin: Part II | The Log Cabin: Part III | The Log Cabin: Part IV

Would allow messages

they obviously enjoy my posts (42 likes)