Earned his place with Miss Ewa Part 2

Dado’s mouth didn’t leave her. He’d learned her body like a language, and right now he was fluent. Slow circles around her clit with the tip of his tongue, then flat, firm pressure that made her curse softly. Back and forth. Worship and heat.

Miss Ewa’s thighs started to tremble around his head. Her fingers twisted in his hair, not yanking, just holding him exactly where she wanted him. “Dado,” she breathed. “Look at me.”

He tipped his eyes up without stopping, and the sight of him — obedient, wrecked, devoted between her legs — made her stomach clench. This was the romance she craved. Not flowers. This. Being seen, being tasted, being adored on his knees.

“You feel that?” she whispered, rocking her hips into his face. “That’s what you do to me when you’re patient. When you earn me.”

He hummed against her, and the vibration pulled a moan from deep in her throat. “Don’t stop,” she told him, softer now. Almost pleading. Almost. “Right there, baby. Just like that. Make me come for you.”

He did. He slipped two fingers inside her, curling them while his tongue kept working her clit, relentless but tender. Her back arched off the tile. The sound she made was broken and beautiful — his name half sobbed, half sighed.

“Da—do— fuck— yes—”

She came hard, clenching around his fingers, grinding against his mouth while he drank her down. He didn’t pull away. Didn’t rush. He licked her through it, gentling his strokes as she shuddered, whispering praise against her skin between kisses.

When she finally stilled, she was panting, one hand still fisted in his hair. She tugged him up slowly, and he went willingly, his face wet, lips swollen, eyes dark with want.

Miss Ewa kissed him like she was starving. Deep, filthy, tasting herself on him and groaning into his mouth. “You’re so good,” she murmured against his lips. “So fucking good for me.”

“I’m yours,” he said, voice rough. “Whatever you want.”

“I know.” She kissed the corner of his mouth, his jaw, his throat. Caring now, soothing him after wrecking him. Her hands came up to cradle his face. “You earned more than one reward tonight. But I’m not done with you.”

She stepped back into the spray, water sluicing down her body, and held out a hand. “Come here. I want to feel you. All of you. Skin to skin.”

He stepped into the shower with her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close. No sex. Not yet. Just the slide of wet bodies, her breasts against his chest, her legs tangling with his. She kissed him slow and deep again, rocking her hips against his hard cock with deliberate, teasing pressure.

“Feel that?” she whispered. “That’s how much I want you. But you don’t get to come until I say. Until I’ve had my fill of your mouth.” She nipped his bottom lip. “And I’m still hungry, Dado.”

She turned him, pressing his back to the tile, and sank to her knees again. But this time she didn’t go for his cock. She kissed his inner thighs, close enough to make him shake, then lower.

“Spread your legs for me,” she said, looking up through wet lashes. “If you want me to lick your ass, you have to ask. Nicely.”

His head thumped back against the tile. “Miss Ewa, please. I’m begging. Rim me. Use your tongue on me. I want to feel you everywhere.”

“That’s my good boy.” She smiled, naughty and sweet all at once. And then her mouth was on him, licking him open with slow, dirty attention while her hands kept his hips still.

The slow burn was now white hot.

Because Miss Ewa was just getting started, and Dado was going to earn every single piece of her.

Miss Ewa stood up slowly, licking her lips as Dado whimpered at the loss of her mouth. She kissed him hard, letting him taste himself on her tongue, then stepped out of the shower. Water ran off her skin, but her eyes never left his.

“Stay,” she said, pointing at the tile. One word, and he froze on his knees like a good boy.

She padded out of the bathroom naked and dripping, and came back moments later with something in her hands. Her leather boots. Tall, black, with a heel that clicked against the tile. The sound alone made his cock twitch.

“Sit back,” she told him. “Hands on your thighs. Look at me.”

He obeyed, back against the shower wall, chest heaving. She set one foot on the low ledge of the tub and started sliding the boot on, slow. Deliberate. The leather clung to her wet calf, inch by inch. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. The act itself was a command.

When the first boot was zipped, she did the other, taking her time, watching his face the whole way. By the time she was done, standing in nothing but those boots, she looked like a goddess and a sin.

“You like my boots, Dado?” Her voice was soft, but it cut through the steam.

“Yes, Miss Ewa.” His voice cracked. “You’re… fuck, you’re perfect.”

She stepped closer, the heels clicking. She stood over him, water still beading on her skin, running down between her breasts, down her stomach. She didn’t touch him. She just let him look.

“You earned the right to see me like this,” she said, running a hand down her own body, cupping her breast, thumbing her nipple until it peaked. “You earned the right to worship me. But now we play by my rules.”

She lifted her booted foot and set it lightly on his thigh. Not pressing, just resting there. Possessive. “Kiss it.”

He didn’t hesitate. He leaned down and pressed his lips to the smooth leather over her arch. Then another. And another. Trailing up to her ankle, reverent.

“Good,” she breathed. “Now lick it. Show me how much you love serving me.”

His tongue came out, dragging along the leather while he looked up at her through his lashes. She tangled her fingers in his wet hair, guiding but not forcing. “That’s it. My dirty, romantic boy. You take such good care of me.”

When she was satisfied, she pulled her foot back and held out a hand. “Up. Bedroom. Now.”

He stood on shaky legs and followed her, eyes locked on the sway of her ass, the flex of her calves in those boots. The bedroom was warm, candles she’d lit earlier flickering. On the bed: her kit. He saw the leather cuffs, the blindfold, the whip coiled neat. The leash. The collar. And her strapon, the “žir,” laid out like a promise.

Miss Ewa turned to him, still naked except for the boots. “On the bed. On your back. Hands above your head.”

He scrambled to obey. The sheets were cool against his hot skin. She crawled over him, caging him with her knees, her boots on either side of his hips. From this angle she was everything — dripping hair, hard nipples, control in her eyes.

“First,” she said, leaning down to kiss him slow and deep, “we put this on you.” Her fingers dangled the leather collar. “Because you’re mine tonight. Say it.”

“I’m yours, Miss Ewa,” he whispered. “Only yours.”

She smiled, all caring and cruel. The collar buckled around his neck with a soft click. Then came the leash. She clipped it on, gave it one light tug, and his whole body jerked.

“Now,” she said, reaching for the blindfold. “You don’t get to see what I do to you next. You just feel. You just take. And if you’re good…” She tied the silk around his eyes, plunging him into darkness. Her lips brushed his ear. “...I might let you suck my žir before I fuck your ass with it.”

His breath hitched. Blind, collared, leashed, hard and leaking on her bed. He’d earned the boots. He’d earned the start of her kinky side.

And Miss Ewa was just getting started.