He gets a well earned blowjob

Owen set Paige down gently, took her hand and guided her to the long kitchen table. They sat side by side. Paige leaned into him immediately, head on his shoulder, fingers laced with his.

He’d made changes in the past few days. No more statues. No more living paintings shifting in endless loops. He’d gone through the house room by room, pulling women aside one at a time. Researched each one wherever possible, old social media, news articles, missing persons reports Garrett had never bothered hiding. Wherever he could find a name, a job, a life, he’d torn fresh tape, written it out carefully: her real name, her old profession or skills only to add “Owned by Owen Maddox” as a safety measure.

The girls were never back to who they were but if they somewhat resembled who they had been, Owen hoped it would be less suspicious. Wherever possible, he would make the newly reidentified women research who they were supposed to be and he would let them leave only if they felt authentic.

He also added strict commands to avoid anyone from their past, to return to the mansion if they ever felt in danger and to send every dollar they earned back to him.

For the ones he couldn’t trace, nameless faces with no digital footprint, he’d written “whore” or “stripper.” Sent them out to clubs he now owned, apartments he controlled. They worked nights, danced, fucked for cash, wired it all to his accounts. No exceptions.

Everyone paid tribute. Everyone obeyed.

Paige squeezed his hand under the table. “Blueberry pie for dessert tonight. Just how you like it.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Can’t wait, wife.”

Maid #13 set the plates in front of them, eggs, bacon, toast and coffee steaming. Paige picked up her fork, smiling like the sun had just come out.

Owen watched her eat, watched the way she chatted happily about nothing important, watched the maids move around them in perfect sync.

Halfway through his eggs, he felt it again, hot, wet lips sliding down his cock under the table. Slow, practiced suction. No hands, just mouth. He bent low, lifted the edge of the tablecloth just enough to see.

The strawberry-blonde cock warmer knelt between his spread legs, yellow dress hiked up around her waist, knees on the hard tile. She’d crawled under without a sound, same as every morning since he’d decided to keep her. Pretty face buried in his lap, throat working him deep. Eyes closed in serene concentration, like this was the only thing that mattered.

He deserved a reward, didn’t he? After everything. After the search, the fear, the loss. He let the cloth drop back down, leaned back in his chair, and spread his thighs a little wider. Let her earn her keep.

Paige noticed, of course she did. She glanced down, saw the rhythmic bob of blonde hair under the table, then looked up at Owen with that bright, uncomplicated smile. No jealousy. No questions. Just soft understanding.

“You deserve all the pleasure you want, husband,” she said quietly, reaching over to squeeze his hand. “I know what’s best for my hubby, like any good wife should.”

She went back to her toast, humming a little tune, as if the wet sounds of sucking below the table were background music.

Owen exhaled through his nose, hips rocking once into the warm mouth. He didn’t cum, not yet. Just enjoyed the slow build while Paige talked about the pie crust and how the maids had finally gotten the blueberries just right.

Later, when breakfast was cleared and Paige had skipped off to the living room to check on the pie, Owen grabbed the blonde woman by the head and pulled her out. She just smiled in reply, it meant she’d done her job well and her owner was going to fuck her wet cunt as a reward.

Owen bent her over the cleared table and gave her ass a playful smack as he buried his cock into her pussy. He thought back to the day he had first seen her and how tempted he had been to just drop everything and fuck her sweet pussy then and there. But now he was glad he had pulled out. None of this would have been possible otherwise.