New Chapter: Blowjob Mask Wife – The Case of Reiko Takahashi** **Route Branch: “I Still Love Him”** **Option 6 – The Body Remembers Differently**

**New Chapter: Blowjob Mask Wife – The Case of Reiko Takahashi**

Route Branch: “I Still Love Him”

Option 6 – The Body Remembers Differently

Reiko closed the door.

For a long moment she just stood there, key dangling from her fingers, the weight of the mask still in her bag. Her husband watched her from the edge of the bed, the chastity cage locked between his legs, eyes tired and wary. The scripted words she was supposed to say—I’ll take the key with me… fill me up again, baby—sat on her tongue like something spoiled.

She didn’t say them.

Instead she walked over, knelt, and unlocked the cage with steady hands. The metal clicked open. He exhaled as if he had been holding his breath for weeks. Reiko looked up at him, still on her knees, and gave the softest version of the smile she used to wear when they were first married.

“I miss you,” she said quietly. “I still love you. Tonight I want it to be us.”

She didn’t put the mask on.

They moved to the bed slowly, almost awkwardly. Clothes came off without ceremony. When she stroked him he hardened, but the size difference from the men who had been using her for months was impossible to ignore. Reiko pushed the comparison away and climbed on top of him, guiding him inside with careful hands.

It felt… small.

Not painful. Not unpleasant. Just insufficient. Her body, trained by thicker cocks and hours of deep, relentless use, barely registered the stretch. The familiar pressure against her cervix never came. The fullness she had grown addicted to was simply absent.

She began to move anyway.

Reiko planted her hands on his chest and rolled her hips the way the President’s trainers had taught her—long, grinding circles, then sharper rises and falls. She closed her eyes so she wouldn’t have to see the hopeful look on her husband’s face. In the dark behind her eyelids the memories came unbidden: the heavy weight of the mask, the way a thick shaft forced the open rubber hole wide, the wet sound of real, overwhelming penetration.

Her body responded to those memories more than to the man beneath her.

She felt herself growing wetter, but the pleasure stayed shallow, circling without ever building properly. Her husband groaned and thrust up into her, hands gripping her waist. He was already close; she could feel it. Reiko leaned down, kissed him, and whispered the things she knew he needed to hear.

“You feel so good… I’ve missed this… I’m getting close…”

None of it was true.

She sped up her movements, tightening her walls as best she could, putting on the performance the mask training had also taught her—how to look and sound like a woman in ecstasy even when the sensation wasn’t there. Soft gasps. A trembling lower lip. The way her breasts swayed as she rode him. When she judged he was about to finish she threw her head back and gave a convincing, broken cry, clenching around him in timed pulses.

“I’m cumming—!”

He followed almost immediately, spilling inside her with a long groan, arms wrapping tightly around her as if he could keep her there by force of wanting alone.

Reiko kept moving through it, milking him gently, until he softened and slipped out. Then she collapsed forward onto his chest, hiding her face against his neck so he wouldn’t see her expression. His heart was racing under her cheek. He stroked her hair with clumsy, grateful hands.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too,” she answered, and that part, at least, was not a lie.

They lay together in silence. His seed leaked slowly from her, a smaller, thinner amount than what she had grown used to. Between her legs the ache of incompleteness remained—an itch the orgasm she had faked never touched. Her body knew the difference. The weeks of thick cocks, forced open-mouth service, and relentless anal training had rewritten her thresholds. What once would have been enough now left her restless and half-empty.

Reiko waited until his breathing evened out into sleep. Then she carefully extracted herself, went to the bathroom, and locked the door.

The mask was still in her bag.

She stared at it for a long time under the harsh bathroom light. Her reflection looked the same as always—short dark hair, soft face, the body that had been claimed and trained and filled by other men. She touched herself once, experimentally, and felt the immediate, honest flutter of real arousal that her husband’s cock had not produced.

Tears pricked at her eyes.

She loved him. That hadn’t changed. But love, she was learning, did not automatically restore a body that had been thoroughly rewritten. The Dibs system and the mask had done their work too well. Even when she chose him, even when she unlocked the cage and climbed on top with genuine affection, her cunt still hungered for something heavier, thicker, more absolute.

Reiko washed between her legs, returned to bed, and curled against her husband’s side. He stirred and pulled her closer in his sleep. She let him.

In the morning she would have to decide what to do with the key, the mask, and the next summons from the President’s office.

For tonight she simply held the man she loved and tried not to think about how empty she still felt inside.