Master keeps me going for hours

“M-may I c-cum now, Mast-ah-er?” I moan between strokes, ready to flood my pussy with girlcum on command.

“No, but speed up, I can’t hear your shlicking!”

“Yes Master.” I continue to obey. It’s what I’m supposed to do, it’s what I’m for. I slowly slide to the wet floor, my knees finally giving way and making me slump into a puddle of my juices. Fuck, I just want to cum, I need to cum! But what I really need is to do whatever Master says, and he told me not to cum, so I won’t.

Master grunts and erupts overhead, sending a shower of sperm into my hair. He directs the inconsistent stream onto my breasts before he runs dry, but he keeps jerking his limp dick until it rises again. Every so often, another warm spray cascades over me, plastering my face, drying slowly into my skin.

Minutes creep by, second by excruciating second, punctuated only by pauses to keep myself going and Master’s demands to be louder, faster, deeper. I do as he says, my mind fraying a bit more with every compounding request. I can’t do this forever, I need to release, I need to finish. How long has it been, hours? Days? My fingers are cramped and raisiny from being continuously soaked in my fluids, and my pussy is red and raw from so much fingering.