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Capricious and Caged

Musings, querulous rants, and possibly actual writings of a temperamental sub type.
3 days ago. Mon 21 Jan 2019 02:39:01 AM IST

Not exactly feeling 100% self esteem wise. Never have, honestly. 

Being a plain Jane is not the greatest thing in the world but I guess I shouldn't be so shallow and focus on looks..I'm a decent person, most of the time.

But it sucks when your outside doesn't match the image of you that you feel on the inside


6 days ago. Fri 18 Jan 2019 05:11:34 AM IST

Definitely enjoy Milkwebs' content and happy to post something for the littles, bigs and in-betweens.


Hope you're all having a great day!



1 week ago. Sun 13 Jan 2019 06:54:50 AM IST

Excellently demonstrates a brief negotiation prior to play or a scene, during, and some aftercare (specific to her, of course). So happy to see the natural flow and spark between these two lovely women.



1 week ago. Sat 12 Jan 2019 08:37:50 AM IST

If you have the time, I highly recommend giving this a watch. Good things to remember for those in the scene a while or just starting out. Brittney and Evie are great, upstanding educators for kink and BDSM.


1 month ago. Sat 22 Dec 2018 11:34:45 PM IST

 Upping the ante: I see your Hu and raise you Heilung.


1 year ago. Sat 23 Dec 2017 06:49:49 AM IST


Sepia-toned, Pointilistic reproductions 

lost in tempestuous seas.


Gasping, a desperate plea for another breath.

Raw throat, screams clawing from the depths

break the Silence.


Lifeless limbs tempest tossed,

a visage marred and broken;

carrion feast for Crows.


Doubtful fleeting glances,

taciturn lips pressed in thin lines.


They never knew anyway.   




1 year ago. Mon 18 Dec 2017 03:44:22 AM IST

7:04 pm, CST. The urge to write something, even without a topic in mind, is overwhelming. Yet, the entire day I've been riding a swift train fueled by  anxiety that doesn't seem to have a final destination. 

My heart feels as if a jailbreak is being planned, every beat a vain attempt to burst through its ivory cage. Outside, I am vulnerable; visible to every pedestrian paying even just a lick of attention. I feel choked, tight in the chest and hyper aware of my surroundings. A heaviness has settled over me like a miasma, seeping into every fibre of my being until fatigue takes over and I slink to the sofa, collapsing. I am spent.

Days like these, while not necessarily difficult, are wearisome. 

It's truly hard to focus on being productive and "adulting". Dishes, laundry, grocery shopping..They all feel like tasks set before me by a malicious deity, intent on my destruction. Their completion lay on a pedestal at the top of a mountain comprised of doubt, despair, and self-loathing.

Today, I feel as if the anxiety has anchored into my heart and weighs me down from the core of my very being. 

It comes from nowhere, stems from nothing, but is all encompassing. 

At this juncture, it feels as if the weight of worlds rests upon my shoulders, war being waged betwixt the two. The fallout is my sanity; my livliness.

Every step is a chore; leaden feet shuffle across a carpet flattened by the wear of constant pacing. 

The clock on the wall ticks away every moment, and every moment a lifetime.

I resume staring at the cursor on the screen. It blinks at me rhythmically, mocking my inability. It feels as if the page itself has come alive and titters away at my own incompetance. The lack of characters on the screen serve as evidence enough.

I close my eyes and breathe, attempting to summon the courage to just start, type anything, ANYTHING at all..

Then a spark. An unprompted flow of words sends my fingers gliding over the keys, a steady clacking in their wake.

One more day.. One more unwelcome bout of anxiety and self-doubt overcome and I am able to set my whirring mind to the seemingly accomplishable task at hand. 

7:40 pm, CST.

Game, set, match.


1 year ago. Sat 16 Dec 2017 05:53:35 AM IST

So, I've been asked as of late to provide (against my will, mind you) samples of my "writing". Well, I don't write much anymore. I gave it up out of pure frustration and the feeling of bashing my head against a wall to come up with something pithy, on point, and original. 

But nothing is actually original anymore, is it? Save for our own experiences..yet even then, those experiences are shared with other people. Yes, they have their own views and its filtered through a life lens (as they say in therapy) that is often far different than your own, but the experience never belongs to any single entity. 

Which I suppose can be a comforting thought. To know that regardless of age, experience level, financial situation, etc..we're all one in that we're not alone..but we're allowed our individualism through our own lens; our own point of view.

You see the world in yellow and gold, the next person mauve and taupe, and a certain someone in a rainbow of glitter.

As for myself?

Brilliant shades of green, filtered through a kaleidoscope of sensations, ruminations, and light coating of despair for good measure. 

We are all of us cast in a wide net. 

You take a step. Then another, and another until your foot falls through and tangles itself in the fine lines of life you were simply trying to navigate unscathed. Well..tough luck

Life doesn't work that way.

So off we go into the quagmire.

Originality be damned.