It had become routine. It had become too regular. The last few times, she had gotten off with her black dildo, had me clean her up, but didn’t let m... fuck her. She made some excuse about being tired or needing to get up early. After a while, she didn’t even bother making excuses.One Saturday morning, I was in the kitchen making a pot of coffee when she came in and sat down. I felt like I was losing her and decided I needed to do something to fix things.“Janet,” I began, feeling like I was on. .For the next week or two I followed the pattern of wearing the device fromearly morning until bedtime. It certainly gave me a lot more confidence inthe office or out shopping. Although there were still a few moments ofmoderately painful squeezing from time to time. Moments when a naughtysissy was punished for having naughty thoughts. And the strange sensationof having my cock constrained while my balls were dangling free.The weekend of the wedding was approaching fast. Another package. Before we had left London I had made a tentative estimate that it would take seven days to travel the 137 miles from Camden Lock in London to Gas Street Basin in Birmingham. However, the itinerary of The Progress drawn up by the Home Office made a mock of my supposed timings.From day one it became obvious that more time was to be spent meeting influential members of the landed gentry than travelling.It was after breakfast, near 11 am, before the barges would slip their moorings and start the. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I saw her sitting on the sofa - but only her outline. The room smelled from her 120mm cigarettes and the sweet smell of the imported cognac she drank. "Sit down and tell me where you have been keeping youself," she said. Her speech was noticeably slurred, and I could tell she had been drinking for some time. I told her I had been working long hours and hadn't been around much. "Have you been working hard?" she asked, and before I could reply, added, "Bet.