Always somewhere between back, forward...and beyond.

It's a nice place to be.

 

Where can i find her writing then? Does she have a link?

 

Why not identify the person making the report? They weren't using the report function for anything untoward and there isn't any rule against identifying them as it wasn't a PM.

In civilized nations the accused is permitted to know their accuser in an open and public court. Seeing as everyone here is anonymous anyway, it wouldn't hurt to identify where it came from.

 

Methink Some Doth Protest Too Much.

Please do not lash out at the moderators. Ejls did the right thing.

I would never ask XNXX to make exceptions for me. The series was reported, so it was removed. Simple as that.

I knew that one of the brain trust of the First Amendment Cheer Team would report it. Sheesh. I dared you to report it. Right?

Ejls is the real victim here.

The smart-alek who reported the story did not expect Ejls to remove it. The expectation was that I would receive special treatment, and the person who reported the post expected to be able to call ejls out on her hypocrisy.

I guess that didn't work out. Hmm?

As to why I have not been banned... well, the post featured a minor, but it was not a sex story. So it fell into that gray area, wherein the site owners attempt to retain the liberty to exercise judgment. The post was a non-erotic prose-poem, featuring a sixteen year old high school student recollecting a violent rape perpetrated by her uncle when she had been a child. The story is dramatic, tragic, and incapable of titillating anyone but a complete psychopath.

The structure is technically dense and difficult, being a prose-poem in the stream-of-consciousness style. Frankly I am impressed that the person found anything concrete to report. Whatever.

Don't believe me? Here's a sentence- yes, a single sentence- from the banned material. Report it again, and get me banned.

_____So, when Greta had poured her little heart out to Jessica last winter, she had left out the minor details of her deflowerment, and other consequences, just tangential points, really, such as the excruciating burn that now accompanied vaginal stimulation or genital contact of any kind, due to the nerve damage that made her uterus feel like being impaled by a hot soldering iron through every waking minute of every interminable day, and other mere trifles, such as the appalled gynecologist's prognosis that Greta would have perhaps a one in one hundred thousand chance of ever conceiving and bearing a viable newborn, not a big thing really, since Greta could not imagine ever wanting to curse an innocent baby to this wretched perdition that fools called life, and other irrelevant little trivialities, such as the fact that beloved Uncle Jerrold had never cleaned off Greta's Cunt Wrecker, so that her blood had permeated the oak and left it the color of rust; and that he took cruel satisfaction in putting the vile totem on prominent display on his bookshelf full of necromancy and thaumaturgy, where Greta would find it, whenever the family dragged her to her grandparents' house for meaningless gatherings, because despite her determination to hide in the garage behind the dusty packing crates, she would close her eyes, levitate like a ghost, wander in a disembodied trance through the basement, slip through the hanging beads, and drift into her destroyer's bedroom, where she would creep up to the shelf, and catch her breath upon the sight of the focal point of her unremitting nightmare, and she would stare for hours with fascination and horror at the hellish, bloodstained phallus while silently, placidly reliving every moment of her ruination; and then there was that other tiny detail, just a little inconsequential point, which really meant nothing to anyone, that on yet another meaningless family gathering five or six months later— Greta honestly could no longer properly recall the occasion or the specifics of the chronology— beloved Uncle Jerrold lured her down into his sanctum within the hanging red beads for a reprise, and made a show of blocking the webcam, and used her with a decorum that he might have described as tenderness, crooning their special song all the while: 'Up, up, and away, in our beautiful balloon,' he whispered into her ear, together with praise for her tight, receptive little cunt, and he offered reassurances that his handiwork five or six months ago had only improved her, and Greta wept, face-down in the pillow, while her very own birthday party persisted upstairs, and she chewed her lip bloody under the spiraling agony of the still-raw intrauterine nerve damage that Uncle Jerry's infernal rasping prick fanned into flame; and afterward, after Uncle Jerry had taken his fill, and after he had soulfully promised that this time would forever be a secret between them, not two hours later, sometime between dinner and the birthday cake, he playfully dragged her back downstairs from the party to the basement, his hand in hers, giddy and proud, and he showed her how he had filmed their lovemaking surreptitiously, through a second webcam mounted behind the headboard; and he rationally, reasonably explained that he owed it to all his best buds to share their latest episode, and Greta watched, open-mouthed, with ice in her veins, as her beloved Uncle Jerrold logged onto his computer and replayed their recent lovemaking to a packed chatroom, and asked all his buds what they would like to see him do to her next, and his good old buds replied that they wanted to see him use the Cunt Wrecker on her again, but this time up her asshole like bitch dogs deserved, and then Greta's mouth fell open with incomprehension when her beloved Uncle Jerrold responded with, "Well fuck, buds, that sounds like a great idea, what better way to celebrate Angelcake's birthday, why didn't I think of that," and when he gamely, playfully asked his favorite Angelcake what she thought about his best buds' cool fucking idea, well... Greta had not been entirely truthful when she had told Jessica Turner that she had raked Uncle Jerrold's spiked brass knuckles across his face; no, not quite... it had happened somewhat differently, but what were mere details, after all, if not distractions from the essential point that beloved Uncle Jerrold had robbed poor Greta Elisabeta of her womanhood, and had forever denied her the ability to feel pretty, and to feel loved, and to be of use to herself or to anyone else, ever again, because in light of the enormity of her loss, did it really matter that she had kissed him, from his head to his crotch, and had undressed him with her playful nibbling teeth, and had drawn him in so that he would let his guard down, and had smiled into the webcam for all his best buds, and had told all twelve hundred of them, live and on camera, that she was ready to take her most special toy again as deeply as it could go; and did it matter that she had spread wide for his thirteen hundred best buds and had shown them her chewed up cervix, and had told them, with her acquired talent for persuasion, that she wanted her anus ripped apart from the inside out, so she would heal with a permanent gape and have to wear a plug up her rectum for the rest of her life to hold her shit in, so that from now on she would be ready to take cock up her dirty bowels on demand like a good whore; and did it matter to God above or anyone on earth that she voluntarily suckled her beloved Uncle Jerrold's straining cock on camera for all his best buds, to lull him into complacency, and gently caressed his knobby spine, and reached up to the shelf behind him, and grabbed Greta's Cunt Wrecker with its blood-red oak and razor sharp needle-points, and that she titillated Uncle Jerrold and all his online buds by raking the vile points down her own belly, grinding her teeth through the pain, to show everyone that she had grown up to be a big girl, and knew how to bleed like a good whore now, because after all, the sting of the cuts felt like nothing as compared to the ever-present burn in the pit of her guts, a mere distraction really, but boy did it ever impress good old beloved Uncle Jerrold and all his fourteen hundred very best webcam friends, when she made herself bleed for the camera, because evidently she was ready to be reasonable and would play more enthusiastically this time; and did it matter to anyone— did she betray a misbegotten soul in heaven or hell— when she, herself, pressed Greta's Cunt Wrecker into her own vagina, points first, and pushed it in for fun, ripped her mutilated scars afresh, stoked the fire anew, bled for all her beloved Uncle Jerrold's admiring and envious pals, made herself run red, and then pulled it out and pressed the cruel brass screws to her own virginal ass, and stabbed the sharpened points into her own unyielding pucker, hard enough to stick herself, with her bottom to the camera, so everyone could watch the violent backdoor deflowerment, and sweetly beckoned her beloved Uncle Jerrold to crouch under her spread thighs so the whole world could watch through his fucking camera; and on that moment of fateful inattentiveness when he lost himself in contemplative admiration of all the blood, whom, exactly, did she betray, anywhere across the expanse of glorious God's eternity, when Uncle Jerrold's most special Angelcake gripped Greta's Cunt Wrecker in two tight fists with a pretty dimpled smile, tensed every muscle in her arms, and stabbed the brass woodscrews up into his right eye with all of her strength?


Yeah. Stroke to that. Or ban me. Whatever.




.

 

I think whoever took the time to read it deserves a fucking medal. what happens now?
you have openly admitted you have flaunted the rules. You then flaunted them again, in the very thread that was asking why your story was banned?...Do you plan to keep this up?
In that case, I don't see why you are any different from "The Clown" and should therefore be banned.

 

I'm confused. This is post #184 from the "underage stories" thread:

So did the other 4 stories/threads have sexual activity involving characters under the stated guideline age or not? I feel like I am missing something.

 

Oh dear. In another thread I called you "our Shakespeare, our Molière, our Goethe". Looks like I should have said "Our Balzac". :laughing::laughing::laughing:

 

I hesitate to offer my opinion since I no longer belong, but this appears to be a sterling example of why I no longer belong (or care). Deleting stories, written by one of the most gifted, with no sexual content: Seems to be a victory by those who would burn "witches" at the stake.

Freedom of speech - ain't it wonderful!

 

I am not flaunting the rules. The piece is not a sex story. It is non-erotic fiction.

That is kind of the point.

I have not seen the report, but I suppose the plaintiff found an out-of-context snippet showing that Greta was recalling a time from when she had been eleven.

And as to "what happens now," ask me if I give a fuck.

No. The other four posts take place many years later, and do not involve underage characters at all. They are all part of a series, so the whole series was deleted. Don't blame the moderators. They are volunteers. They did not do this.

The irony is that all of this material comes from a full length novel that had been posted here from January 2011 through November 2011. 50,000 visits/reads, and not a single report.

This happened because I called attention to the series in the underage thread. I was trying to illustrate why XNXX has an "age guideline," and not an "age rule": so that the writers can practice an honor system, and respect each other, and act like grownups. So that lolicon stroke stories can be culled out, yet non-erotic dramatic fiction that happens to involve underaged characters can be retained.

Evidently, someone missed the point. Or maybe I pissed someone off by refusing to sign the silly petition. Whatever. It doesn't matter. It's all good.

 

:rose::rose::rose::rose::rose::rose:

But who is burning the witches here, Don? The book-burners that we've been fighting against did not do this.

The writers did this.

 

I'm really not that easily impressed Clarise but wow that was stunning.

And no it wasn't stroke material it was what it is for the victim, just told rather well.
:rose::rose:

 

Are you sure?...that somebody didnt read it and get hard?..that somebody didnt close their eyes and picture your words, Everybody has their kink, there is no such thing as UN-erotic

 

Well I guess you could be right- it would take some sick puppy to do that on this excerpt though.

So I'll clarify and say for me it wasn't stroke material- still bloody good writing all the same.

Must be Beddy Byes time for you soon Scotty , hope you get the full quoto of zed stacking without any geological interruptions.:razz:

 

WHO gives a fuck REALLY? Ya MOLE!!!

 

Prurient Purveyor is right. It's past your beddybye time, sleepyhead.

By that measure... ahh, hell. Why do I bother?

When you tuck in, why don't you curl up with Maurice Sendak and jerk off to that?

Burn Where the Wild Things Are!!!!

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory? Wow, that Violet Beauregard is literature's answer to Viagra, huh? Ban Roald Dahl! Kill it with fire!!!

Sheesh. You're funny.

 

I thought Beauty was difficult to read and not worth the effort.

 

It's too bad that clarise's story was removed but her subject was an underaged victim of horrific molestation and rape. My story was also removed from the forum some months ago. I may post it again with ambiguous ages. I can only suggest that clarise re-post her chapters in the same manner.

 

All this kind of reminds me of when my CAW6 story, "My teenage housekeeper" was deleted two days before the poll closed. I remember how much support I got from my fellow CAW writers... especially Clarise who, in protest, dedicated a story to me. It was a tail of gruesome revenge. I never thought I'd have a chance to reciprocate but now I do.... so.

In support of Clarise and as a punishment to the xnxx asshole that reported her story... I will post my first attempt at humor.

Coming soon.... "My Colonoscopy"

Hope it gives you a giggle, Clarise.

HD :rose:

And thanks to eljs who proofed it for me.

 

Wow, that really makes me want to start posting my work here again.

 

Oh, we going down this track now? You can be a martyr if you want Clarise but don't try and take the moral high ground