And a few more days in The Fort

When we last left off, our intrepid protagonist was locked in his ridiculous heavy metal chastity device, and waiting for his wife to come home after a trip to visit family in Hooterville. The story continues…

Mrs. Edge came in a bit later than expected because her plane was delayed. Since I did not have time to go grocery shopping wanted to show her how much I missed her, we went out for a quick burger and a glass of wine, and caught up on our respective weeks. Afterward, we watched some tv to digest, and I hopped into the shower (I find that I sleep better if I shower before bed). When I got out of the bathroom, she walked into the bedroom, swinging her black leather riding crop.

Umm… I should note that I may have given the impression that I locked myself in The Fort right after she left in the pre-dawn hours the previous week. Because I wasn’t sure if The Fort would work for me, I didn’t use her lock for the first few days, I used my own so I could remove it and make adjustments. And in the few times that I removed it, I might have, err… abused myself a time or four. But because I’m a 15 year old at heart, I might have mentioned it to her instead of being quiet about it.

Mentioned it? Oh hell, I actually taunted her.

And because I’m a 15 year old at heart, I kept taunting her even after I locked on the cage. In fact, until I got out of the shower, she wasn’t even aware that I was wearing anything.

She just eyed The Fort, and instructed me to bend over the bed, where she started in on the punishment strokes. No warmup, no niceties; she was “teaching me a lesson” because she was “very disappointed” that I’d had a little too much self-enjoyment over the past week. Once she decided that my ass was sufficiently reddened, we got into bed, where she fell asleep quickly.

The next morning she didn’t say anything about removing the cage, so I again went to work with it on. Later that night, I think I worked out, we had dinner, then watched TV or something. I took a shower, she joined me in bed, and we went to sleep. And the next few days were the same: she didn’t show any inclination to let me stop wearing the device. She asked about it a couple of times, and I told her that it was heavy, and that was it. She didn’t seem to show any interest one way or the other.

Another half a week went by, and I made an interesting discovery: I was more comfortable wearing looser jeans and snug underwear for support. The snug jeans kept The Fort from shifting, but also made it dig into me because there was no give. The looser jeans allowed it to sort of settle in to a position, where my underwear held it (mostly) in place.

One night, just about when I was thinking I’d be locked in until Xmas or something, Mrs. Edge decided that I needed more “maintenance,” and again instructed me to lay across the bed. As she was, umm, maintaining me, she asked if I thought I wouldn’t be punished, and if I’d thought that by putting on the device that she’d be tempted to go easy on me. She kept at it until I actually yelled out a few times, and then stopped. Mrs. Edge gets turned on by my being stoic about her maintenance, perhaps making a little grunt or moan. She figures that if I’m at the point where I’m yelling, then that’s like a safeword. Go figure.

She went to sleep, but I was awake for a while. For reasons I can’t explain, except to say that my brain is obviously miswired, I found it incredibly hot to be on the receiving end of the crop while at the same time wearing the device. That is, the two weren’t “connected” in my head until that night, and once it happened, I just had this warmly, aroused feeling. I spooned her until I fell asleep.

The next morning she wanted the cage off, but before we could enjoy ourselves, one of her migraines hit, and then there were family things going on, and then it was Thanksgiving, and so we pretty much didn’t even see each other again. #MarriedLifeProblems

Anyway, that wraps up my review of The Fort. Yes, it’s heavy, but that ended up not being the worse thing in the world. It did make me start looking at those cage-style devices, if only for the ability to clean them more easily, since even though it was stainless, it still held a little bit of odor after removing it. Will I wear it again? Maybe. It’s still a shorter term device, in my opinion, but it’s manageable.

Still, all that shiny stainless steel looks pretty hot, you know?


And here’s a nice picture of a mature woman who is not going to take any nonsense from a 15 year old boy – even one who is trapped in 57 year old body.


Ms. Dana von Specht

A Week in The Fort

It seems a bit silly to “review” a device that’s no longer being manufactured, but then again, it’s a silly kink we have. Note that there are other chastity device units being sold as The Fort, but they are not the same as the one originally sold by Extreme Restraints back in 2009 or so. I’m reviewing the original, solid cast stainless steel version that I bought back then.

As I mentioned last week, I’m locked up because Mrs. Edge is off visiting family. Normally we would be using the CB3000, but on impulse I went for The Fort, wondering if a few small changes might make things a little easier to bear. I had at one time put silicone in the top vent holes to prevent my skin from ballooning out, but this time around I removed the silicone and am using one of the KSD-G3 devices sold by Kept For Her. This has the added feature of helping to keep all the weight supported. In case you were wondering (and were too lazy to go back to the previous post), the cage itself weighs just over six ounces, and the A ring and spacers weigh another six. With the lock, it’s over 12 ounces of stainless steel hanging from my tonker.

If you’ve followed this far along, you’re obviously somebody who is really interested in this kind of thing, so let’s get into the review.

The Good:

It’s shiny, polished stainless steel. The outside has a mirror finish, and while the inside still shows the cast surface, it’s smoothed over very well. And the nice thing about stainless steel is that it will not absorb anything your body throws at it. Sweat, urine, bodily discharges, baby oil, silicone lube, WD40, you name it, that stuff will rinse right out. In this area, it outperforms the polycarbonate and similar plastics as being much easier to keep clean.

It’s solid. My CB3000 always has a little “give” between the cage and the A ring, and with good reason: the plastics can, over time, develop stress fractures. I’ve gone through a number of A rings because that tends to be the weakest point; the section where the holes are will eventually break. I ended up making a solid ring out of some stainless steel, but that just transferred the stress to the locking pins. And when I made some stainless steel locking pins, the stress transferred to the hole area on the cage itself. Stress, by the way, is essentially wearing tight jeans and going about your business. The Fort is so strong here that my bones will fracture before any of the pieces do.

It’s heavy. It’s probably one of the heaviest chastity devices made for the general market, although probably not by design. While you’d think that this would be a drawback, the weight is a constant reminder that I’m wearing a device. We often say things like “My ____ is so comfortable that I often forget that I’m even wearing it.” The Fort does not allow you to forget. I wear snug underwear and snug jeans for support, and I can still feel the weight slightly tugging down on me.

The Bad:

It’s noisy. The pieces fit together a bit loosely, which leads to odd clinking noises. My solid ring doesn’t make any noise, but the hinged rings that shipped with the original unit were lightly musical until I pinned the pieces together. And when you put the cage and ring together, the steel pins make noise in the holes, so I wedged things in as best I could, and put a rubber O ring between the lock hasp and a spacer, so everything is snugged up as tightly as possible. It sounds silly, but little details like that will make a device inconvenient to wear.

It’s inconsistent. The cage is actually a nice piece of work, but the hinged rings that shipped with it turned out to have been made of some crappy zinc alloy and chrome plated. Plus, the rings still had edges that were in some spots slightly rough, sharp, or poorly fitting. It’s as if they were made in a different facility than the cage.

It’s heavy. Did I mention this part? Yes, I know that some weight can give you a nice, comfortable feeling of being owned. But a week later, I’ll be happy to get out of this thing. The weight pulls the unit down to some odd angles, making for a little more need for adjustment than the plastic CB3000. I vaguely remember feeling a little soreness around my testicles when wearing this a few years ago, but admittedly that doesn’t seem to be the case this week. That said, gravity is definitely pulling on things a lot more — in the shower, sleeping, and walking around in gym clothes.

The Overview:

I’m glad that I gave The Fort another chance, instead of allowing it to languish in the back of my sock drawer for another five years. I’m one of the few holdouts that really liked the original CB3000 design, and The Fort felt similarly comfortable… at first. My guess is that someone who wouldn’t normally be wearing a device took the CB3000 to China for  and just tried to make a cast stainless steel replica, and completely overlooked the weight factor. A week in this was bearable; in fact, the first couple of days were kind of nice. But by Thursday, the constant readjusting was beginning to get on my nerves.

Some company used to make a waist belt to help support the CB-X line of devices; there was a steel locking waist belt which had a steel extension that dropped down from your navel, and had holes that accommodated the locking pins of the CB3000. It seemed like overkill, although I guess the idea was to prevent the pullout issue that plagues trapped-ball devices. A similar waist band would make The Fort a much more comfortable device, and help make it more suitable for long term wear.

Update: Mrs. Edge’s flight was delayed, and since I am just getting home from work, there isn’t  anything in the house for dinner, so I changed into some Dockers and we are heading out for a burger when she gets here in a few minutes.  With snug briefs, The Fort is a little more comfortable than in my jeans all day, but I’ll still be glad when she unlocks me later on.

Update 2: It’s Friday morning, and Mrs. Edge isn’t showing any inclination to allow me to take this thing off. Hmm…

When Mrs. Edge got home, she needed to remind me about something… although I’ve forgotten just what it was, again.



So, Mrs. Edge is off visiting her family out in the cornfields of the midwest, and for the next week or so I get to drink from the carton, eat over the sink, and not shave until Monday mornings. It also means that I’ll catch up on my sleep, since Mrs. Edge is a thrasher, while I, left to my own devices, will usually wake up in almost the same position in which I dozed off.

We’ve pretty much ditched chastity devices for the last several years, as Mrs. Edge prefers to rely on a combination of ruined orgasms, self control, and the occasional “maintenance reminders” with her favorite crop to keep me in line. When such occasions arise and she thinks that I’ll have too much unsupervised free time, I’m usually sporting my antique CB3000. But for some reason I’d been thinking lately about my mistake purchase, The Fort.

Developed back in 2009, The Fort was a clone of the CB3000, except instead of lightweight polycarbonate, it’s made of solid, cast stainless steel. I bought mine from Extreme Restraints, and I have to admit that it’s a pretty damn cool looking unit. Unfortunately, I discovered that it was a nice display piece, but not really practical for long term wear. The hinged rings were similar to the older CB3000 design, with the same flaw: the hinged joint caused chafing and bruising. Oh, and the rings themselves turned out to have been made from some cast zinc alloy and chrome plated, creating the potential for allergic reactions in people so disposed. They were made by a Chinese company (before they started flooding the market with devices made from welded rings), and were only sold for a couple of years. The handful out there are sex toy museum pieces now.  I tried The Fort on and off for about a month, but found it to be impractical, so we pushed it into the back of a drawer, where it languished until last week.

As it happened, I used to break a lot of the solid style rings (I’m a grower), so at some point I made a stainless steel ring for the now-paleolithic CB3000. The Fort’s dimensions are so close to the CB3000 that it fit the ring, with a little loose play that I’m attributing to the conversion of inch to metric dimensions. I spent a few hours figuring out which spacers to use, and found that I really needed to add the old KSD G2 in order to help keep the device (or rather, me) in place.

After I got it assembled and tested it for a few hours I thought I was ready, so Mrs. Edge placed her lock on it and headed for the airport. After a couple of days, though, I’m remembering one of the biggest drawbacks to The Fort. It’s a massive piece of metal hanging from your junk. And no matter how snug your underwear is when you put it on, after a few hours, you feel the weight. The unit, totally assembled, weights just over 12 ounces. That doesn’t seem like much, but consider that the plastic devices are less than three ounces. 12 ounces is 3/4 of a pound (165 grams, for those of you across the pond).

Although the size is fine, there was always a little bit of “give” in the plastic, especially in a pair of snug jeans. The Fort has no give, of course, so I’ve been surprised a few times bending or stretching for things over the course of a day. More problematic, though, is that the weight means that running is out of the question. I’m not talking about cardio running; I’m talking about just jogging across the lawn to to the tool shed, or running across the shop floor to catch the FedEx driver. The jeans and briefs give a little support, but I can’t imagine what it would be like with Dockers and boxers.

On the plus side, though, the stainless steel doesn’t hold the odor from urine, sweat, and whatever else is in the area. A nice hot shower, and everything is washed out. Of course, it’s only been a few days, but I don’t expect things to change much by the end of the week.

I mentioned earlier that I kept breaking the rings on the plastic devices. That’s not a problem here; as other people have said about their various metal devices, there’s something psychologically intense about wearing a device that you know simply will not snap, shatter, or break off by accident. I have an emergency key wrapped up in tamper-evident tape, but in a serious emergency, I could literally break pieces off if I absolutely had to. The Fort offers no such leeway — I either need to unravel that key, or medics will be cutting the device off of me. That’s real.

There’s one other thing I feel compelled to mention. If someone felt a bit overwhelmed after spending time in the CB3000 or the CB6000, a few minutes with a Hitachi Magic Wand or similar strong vibrator would usually be enough to, let’s say, ease some of the tension. Sometimes Mrs. Edge would do that for me, knowing that it left me about as satisfied as a ruined orgasm. The Fort, though, is too dense; the vibrations just don’t seem to make it through the cast steel, and the head of the wand appears to bounce off the device, instead of powering it back and forth. Umm… that’s a quite unauthorized test, so mum’s the word, okay?

I know it’s been a while since we’ve actually discussed chastity devices on this blog, so I apologize to all of you who just read for the exercise updates.

Throwing Shade

I don’t know if it’s an age thing or what, but when I hit my 40s and 50s, I found myself sitting on boards of various clubs and community organizations. I was off one certain board for a while, and they asked me to step back in because nobody else was a sucker recently.

So, last night we had to move the meeting to the home of one of the other members, a nice older lady. Widowed for 20+ years, I’d put her in her mid 70s. Old-fashioned, salt-of-the-earth, small town style, if you know what I mean. The kind that dotes on her dog when her grandkids aren’t around. The kind that always decorates for the holidays.

Anyway, I’m sitting in the least comfortable chair (because I showed up 5 minutes late it helps me to stay awake during the dull parts), and during the part of the meeting where they were arguing over the $7.95 in postage fees, my eyes were wandering around and I started noting the titles in her bookcase. Nora Ephron. Nora Roberts. Nora Nicholas Sparks. Wait, what’s that one? I can’t read the title.

I shift my attention back to the group. The postage was for a special mailing to promote some function or another last month, and did anybody bother to budget for the mailings, and how you can’t expect it to be part of normal operating expenses…

I scootch forward and surreptitiously tip my head to the side to read the title.


Oh dear lord, no, please, no…


*ears start tingling*

I calmly look back. The Treasurer and the Secretary are arguing about what normal operating expenses should be, and if we have this event every year then shouldn’t postage should be a normal expense…

And next to “Grey” I see three more similarly styled paperbacks. I squinch up my eyes to confirm what my brain has already assumed.

50 Shades…

*eyeballs start melting*

I look up again. They’re still droning on about whether the special mailings postage should be part of the normal office account or entered into a different account, and why does a non-profit community group need so many accounts anyway and who does the books so what difference does it make…

I stare intently at the books on the shelf. Is that… it is, isn’t it?

There are page markers in the god damn books! Actually goddamn bookmarks, just sticking out in the middle where our little grandmotherly, holiday plate decorating board member carefully placed them to find the good parts.

*head asplodes*

I look up again, biting my lip to contain my laughter.

“Finally, that’s settled. Can we move on to new business,  now?”

Yes, please. Let’s.



I happen to like a mature woman with a little experience.

Ms. Dana Sprecht

Playboy to stop publishing nude photos of women, says they’re ‘passé’ – MarketWatch

Growth in internet porn pushes Playboy magazine to stop running photos of fully nude women, in a bid to make itself more relevant.

Source: Playboy to stop publishing nude photos of women, says they’re ‘passé’ – MarketWatch

I’m sure that most of my readers have heard the news that Playboy has decided to stop publishing full-out nude pictures, and that while keeping the centerfolds, tone the shots down to a PG-13 variety.

I’m bracing myself for the dozens, if not hundreds of essays in the near future, mainly from men of a certain age, bemoaning the loss, and waxing nostalgic about how those large-boobed, inviting-looking women were such a vital part of exploring their budding sexuality.

Personally, while I could write something similar, I’m finding myself feeling a bit ambivalent. I discovered Playboy when I was a young adolescent (my father had a subscription), and when I was in my 20s, I subscribed for several years. I can honestly say that I enjoyed the articles, tips on picking out clothing, how to mix drinks, etc. But by my mid-twenties, the pictures were leaving me a bit, well, unsatisfied – that’s the period where I was probably searching out more BDSM-ish or Femdommish images. This was pre-internet (yes, I’m that old), but computers and online BBS groups were fun places to trade the images. Eventually, I let my subscription lapse because Playboy just stopped being relevant to my needs.

And now that I’m well into middle age, I find that I rarely get worked up over pictures of women young enough to be my daughter. Yeah, they’re easy on the eyes, but I prefer to look at pictures of attractive women closer to my own age – something that Playboy (and similar publications) rarely, if ever, published.

So, Playboy is, well, not gone, but changed. I’ll remember it fondly, but I’ll file those memories away with my Walkman Cassette, my car phone, my dot matrix printer, and my Hayes 1200 Smartmodem.

Did I say that Playboy rarely posted shots of women closer to my age? Here are some shots of  a 50 year old Joan Collins from 1983; I have to admit, I remember these shots very well.