For weeks, I’d been corresponding with a milf teacher from the States. We shared intimate details, our sexual desires and experiences. She was submissive, craving a dominance she couldn’t find at home. She also had a thing for younger men. I wasn’t exactly young, but I had a certain mystique. I was dominant, but I also had a submissive side. Especially when work was stressful - I was in a leadership position - I longed to be dominated.

An image arrived in my inbox that evening. It was her. Her milky white skin stood in stark contrast to the intricate lace of the bodysuit. Though fully covered, her DDs seemed to defy the fabric. Towering over her 5'3" frame in glossy black boots, she wore a pair of dark glasses. She looked like the most desirable mistress I'd ever seen.

I didn’t have much time to savor the moment. A notification shattered the silence, a jarring reminder of the reality beyond this fantasy. The message read: “For the next 72 hours, I’ll be controlling your orgasms. You must comply with these rules:

1. Sleep with your cock cage on. Send me a photo every time you wake up or go to bed, proving you’re wearing it. Use the numbered single-use locks.”
2. A RED gif, proving compliance of your edging, is required within the hour of my message. Failure to do so will have consequences.
3. Additional tasks will be assigned. Refusal is not an option.

If you can last seventy-two hours, you'll get another photo. This time, my breasts will be bare. And this time, you are allowed to do a cum tribute.

I typed back my agreement, excitement bubbling within me. As proof, I sent a photo, a reckless display. I should have known better. Her reply was curt, her demands explicit. Half an hour of slow-motion jerking. A photo every five minutes, proof of my arousal. And no release.

I began to tug, slowly as instructed. Precum oozed from my glans. As requested, I sent the photos. I persevered, but my member was already incredibly sensitive from the half hour of stimulation. This discomfort would linger for the next seventy-two hours. Almost immediately, the order came to ruin my orgasm and film it, of course. I was so aroused that it was over in an instant. A pathetic drop of semen oozed from my glans. My excitement had reached unprecedented heights.

Soon it was time for bed. I slipped into my cock cage, a silent pledge. I fell asleep. A sweet message awaited me when I woke: she was proud. The time difference meant she was now asleep. I'd been given two times to edge, which I did dutifully. Again in the afternoon. And again in the early morning, as she started her day. By my late afternoon, I was to have a ruined orgasm. I lost count of the Redgifs I'd made, but the promise of the prize kept me going.

On the second night, she asked if I’d put on my cage early. Relief washed over me. At least I could give my aching cock a rest. Once I was secured, my phone buzzed. She was chatting with her Scandinavian toyboy, sending him photos. And touching herself. Fuck, I was just her digital cuck. The thought turned me on, hard. But the cage kept me from getting fully erect. The teasing went on for hours. I considered giving up, letting myself come. Her messages were driving me insane.

Sleep evaded me that night. I woke up feeling heavy, unrested. A new challenge awaited. Beyond the usual compliments, I was to give myself three ruined orgasms before she stirred. The clock ticked. I had exactly four hours. And digital meetings. With effort, I managed. My cock was raw, every touch a sting. When it hardened, it was hypersensitive.

The brief respite was welcome, but it was short-lived. A message arrived mid-afternoon. Your final test begins soon. Follow the instructions carefully. Shortly after, another notification popped up. She had created a new Gmail account, one for her and one for me. The password was included. I logged in. A google meet appointment was scheduled for twenty minutes from now. The subject: Total Submission. It was to last thirty minutes.

The invitation specified an anal toy and lube. The latter was thoughtful of her. I logged in and there she was, just like in the first photo. Stunning, her dominance radiating from the screen. She instructed me to undress completely, to lie naked on the bed. The camera was on me, capturing my every inch.

First, I inserted the anal vibrator and turned it on. She knew of my penchant for anal toys. With a slick of lube, the five-inch dildo slid easily into my rear. I switched it on, the vibrations massaging my prostate. She instructed me to masturbate. Hard and fast. I was to stop just short of climax. I edged close, then pulled back again.

I heard the soft click of her screen turning off. Her voice, now the only sound, instructed me to move the vibrator in and out of my ass. Slowly at first, then faster. I could hear her breathing quicken. She was pleasuring herself, unseen, unheard except for the small sounds she couldn't quite stifle. I pushed harder, giving my all to the silent show. With a muffled moan, she came. A moment later, the camera flickered to life. Her hair was a little disheveled, her cheeks flushed.

I had to slow jerk again. It was a strange mix of pleasure and pain. I was so aroused, yet the stimulation was almost too much. Twenty-five minutes had passed. Then, she lowered her body, revealing full, firm D-cups. "Come on, give me your tribute," she purred. I needed no second invitation. Kneeling before the screen, I watched her breasts, the most beautiful I'd ever seen. The sight was enough to send me over the edge. Thick streams of cum shot across the screen, landing right on her tits.

The thirty minutes were up. With a playful wink, she was gone. I was left panting, my body aching from the grueling seventy-two hours. Later that night, the promised photo arrived. Attached was a simple message: "Pay your cum tribute when your cock's feeling a bit better. -X- The Milf Teacher."