Google Policies Surprisingly Anti-Sex

Hello everyone, I'm Desmond. I work here with Agreeable Agony as the web designer and editor for the blog. I tend to keep to the shadows, but occasionally feel the urge to speak my mind on sex-positive issues, and wouldn't you know it, there seems to be this mighty-fine blog right here.

I'm sure there are funny stories behind every website. Ours involves a race against the clock, starting the night before a big convention, with the intent of having a working site up before vendors opened the next day. I'd like to think I leveled up that day in html and css. I had a working site up and running, able to accept sales, before 5pm. It wasn't pretty, but it was up, and we've been expanding, and improving on it since.

We're about to go through another serious renovation, one that we'd liked to have put off somewhat longer. In the long hours of the night, I jumped headfirst into Google Checkout, which seemed the best way to get rolling. Google provides the services that make Agreeable Agony possible, notably our email and this very blog. I thought that sticking with the company we'd worked so well with seemed like a good chance. I double checked their content policies, (more on that later) and decided that for the time being, we were within them.

We received an email in the past week, from the Google Wallet team, telling us that due to violations of their Content Policies, they would be shutting off our checkout system if we didn't stop selling the offending items in question. I specify, because they claimed in their email that if we removed the buttons from the specific items that were against policy, they would allow us to continue doing business.

What their email didn't contain was a list of which items they deemed unacceptable.

The non-automated portion of the email we received read the following:

Unacceptable product category: Adult Goods & Services
Please note that sale of Fetish sites or sites that promote ‘play wear’, ‘latex wear’, Sexual aids and device and All sex toys are not allowed through Google Wallet.

Below that, there were some helpful links to their content policies page, which I'll get to in a moment. They describe the sale of Fetish sites, as in web sites or physical locations, perhaps? We certainly don't sell websites. The reference play wear and latex wear, of which we have neither.

They come closest when they reference sexual aids and device[sic], but while much of what we sell is meant to be used in bondage scenes, none of it is inherently sexual. That is to say, the satisfaction in BDSM and similar alternative activities can be based in romantic or non-sexual fantasy as easily as it can be sexualized.

I don't see anything we sell as being a sex toy, and I should know, I used to sell sex toys. We sell devices for use in a highly sense-oriented role play, and what incredible sexual experiences our customers get into with them are purely the creativity of our customers. We encourage creativity.

We encourage creativity, and we try to provide helpful safety information to let that creativity happen (as it inevitably will anyway) safely, and with the best tools available.

So for posting information about safe sex with our products, we have been labelled dealers in "Adult Goods & Services" This is a sort of funny thing to label us, if only for Google's helpful Content Policies (I didn't forget.) They can be read here, but the important definition is as follows:

Adult Goods and Services:
Pornography and other sexually suggestive materials (including literature, imagery and other media); escort or prostitution services

From the very page they linked me to, it would appear that Google only explicitly bans the sale of pornographic media and prostitution services. So now we're pornographers, or maybe pimps, I'm not really sure, it's apparently been a busy day holding all these jobs.

In any case, we at AgAg are rather put out by Google's sudden disinterest in taking a small amount of our money in exchange for letting us sell things on the internet. Not that we wanted to stay with Google forever. I said earlier that I believed we were in bounds for the time being. In the future I'd hoped to switch to a more open source cart manager, effectively to get away from aggressive ToS.

Seems that Google decided to let the shoe drop first, and gave us a 5-day ultimatum. I'll be working hard to try to get something up and running that will work, but we may be unable to accept some sales for a period of time. I'm sorry to anyone inconvenienced by this.

In the meantime, I'm disappointed in Google for their attack on our small community. We've emailed them to appeal their decision, in the hopes to buy us a little time to make the transition. At this point, they have lost our business, small though it is. Even if they sorted everything out right for us, this has shaken our company's trust in the policies of Google.

It is to mend that lack of trust that we believe that Google should amend their policies to explicitly allow sex-positive shops to vend with their system. Until this happens, I urge all online shops to migrate away from Google Checkout, or at least have a backup ready, in case they decide to pull the plug on your site.

Update: We have officially had our ability to make sales cut off. We ask that any customers who know what they're interested in to send us an email, and we'll get back to you as soon as we can keep doing business while we get this sorted out. Sorry to everyone for the inconvenience, I'm working on shoehorning a new cart in without breaking everything in the process.

Beautiful

Hi! I'm the newest contributor here at Agreeable Agony. I've been writing a series of short erotic pieces recently, and I was asked to share them on this blog. I'll be probably be putting up other pieces in weeks to come, but I thought I would start with one that is particularly relevant to the Agreeable Agony wares.

Author's Note: Please see the bottom of the page if you would like to know what triggers this piece might contain before reading it. If you notice something else in the piece that seems like a common trigger that I have not marked, please leave a comment to let me know. I would like the sharing of my work to be as safe as I can make it for my readers.




There’s something fragile and lovely about the anticipation of the moment. She lies stretched across the bed, limbs spread. The air is cool, but not uncomfortable, and she feels it brush over her skin, eddies of his movement around the room. The cuffs are wrapped around her wrists and ankles, a comforting solid presence, and an anchor. They don’t mainly serve to keep her in place physically - though she can’t move in them, she’d be doing her best to stay still in any circumstance - but they keep her there mentally.

She steadies her breathing, trying to stay as still and relaxed as possible.  The candles glow and sparkle in the even, low light of the room, drawing her attention. They sit neatly arranged, a palette. She lies prone, a canvas. She tries to guess what he will start with, whether he has planned it in advance or will be making decisions as the piece progresses. She tries not to think at all. Does a canvas wonder what stroke of the brush will come next?

She spends a moment feeling silly for coming over poetical about the situation, and that starts to break up the mental quietude she’s been settling into. She tenses and shifts, feeling the cuffs pull at her limbs. Lying spread eagle leaves her open in a way that bleeds into her mental state, and she tries to relax back into it.

He must have seen her fidgeting, because he’s leaning over her, checking her wrists and ankles, running his hands down her arms. “Everything okay, pet?” He asks, and she smiles replying “Yes, sir.”

“Good. You look beautiful like this, and we haven’t even started yet.” If she had been vertical, she would have cast her eyes downward at that, struggling to accept the compliment. Now, she turns her head slightly to the side, but he catches her jaw and turns her head back to look at him. “I’m serious. You are beautiful.” He raises his eyebrows, waiting for her to contradict him. He knows she doesn’t agree with him, doesn’t really see what he sees or believe in her own power or strength. But she tamps the instinct to argue down, and simply says “Thank you, sir.” He smacks her cheek lightly. “Good girl.”

He runs his hand down from where he’d left it on her cheek, over her neck, and down over her breast and stomach. The touch is smooth and proprietary, stopping briefly to pluck at a nipple or circle her belly button. He slides his hand down to cup her sex. She’s shaven smooth for tonight, and it’s the first time that she’s done so for him. His touch feels different on the sensitive skin. He pulls his hand back and slaps her bare pussy, suddenly, and she jerks her hips up towards him with her limited motion.

He steps away from her for a moment, and returns holding a blindfold, and a small ball. The ball, he slips into her hand, folding his fingers around hers and squeezing once. It squeaks loudly. He nods. “You may make noise, but you may not speak. If you need to stop, or pause, or if there’s any problem with the cuffs, squeeze that.”

He slips the blindfold on her. “After all, only people speak. And right now, you’re not a person. Not my bright, individual, quick, lovely bitch.” He brushes a kiss across her lips, her cheek, her throat, before continuing at a whisper, directly in her ear. “You’re just a thing, an object. A canvas, blank and spread out for my pleasure. For me to touch -” he slides his hand up her inner thigh, “- or hurt -” he digs his nails in sharply and she whimpers slightly, “- however I want. But most importantly, you’re here for me to paint. Because that’s what a canvas is for. That’s its purpose. Don’t you want to fulfil your purpose?”

His touch leaves her for a moment, and she knows he’s picking up one of the candles. She loves him so fiercely in this moment, for the fact that he had the same thoughts that she did, or had seen her having them. That he had brought them out of her mind and into the world, where she couldn’t deny the beauty of the notion, couldn’t pass it off as a silly or stupid fancy of her own brain.

The first drop of wax splashes onto her stomach. She almost flinches, but she holds herself in check, not wanting to make the wax move unintentionally. The heat of the melted parafin sinks into her belly. She lets her earlier quietude uncoil again, spurred by his words and the warm, burning sensation of the wax.

He draws a strip up her sternum in between her breasts. This one is slightly cooler, he must be holding the candle further away. She lets that thought flutter away as soon as it crosses her mind. She’s not a person. Canvasses don’t think. She lets the sensations wash over her as he works, pooling warmth in the hollow of her hip, lines of fire up her ribs, a sudden blaze across a sensitive nipple or her bare sex. She can hear herself moaning, but it seems like it is coming from very far away.

As she breathes, as slowly and evenly as possible, and listens to him work, talking to quietly himself or to nobody (really to her, says the part of her that knows that she is a person, but she lets that part sink back down and away), choosing colors and placements, her mind drifts back to his earlier words. And in the quiet of non-existence, of a canvas becoming whatever masterpiece a painter’s imagination and steady hand can invent, she lets herself believe it. Beautiful.




Trigger warnings: Contains D/s, wax play, restraints, honorifics, face slapping, the terms 'pet', 'girl', and 'bitch' as endearments, blindfolds, objectification

"I got hit by a baseball"- Kink and Doctors

Recently I went to my annual physical, and for hours before my appointment I was scheming. I was scheming about what to say to my doctor about a particular scar on my chest.
Many people have scars on them for all sorts of reasons. I have a scar on my nose from when I fell down a flight of concrete steps when I was three. I also have chicken pox scars. But this scar is different; This scar came from an extremely enjoyable scene that my partner and I engaged in approximately six months prior to my appointment, a scene that involved a blade and blood play.

I worried about what to tell my doctor because I know my scar looks self inflicted. Technically it is; it was also consensual and safe. I know that everything I tell my doctor is confidential, and that I should not lie to my doctor. However, blood play is not for the faint of heart; Is there really a need to share specifics with my doctor?

After discussions with many people, I made the decision to not bring it up. If she asked about it, my answer was going to be vague. I decided that there was nothing to worry about in regards to the scar. I was safe about it; the blade was clean, I kept my wound clean. And I don't have a blood condition.

My doctor did find the scar. It wasn't hard to miss--on my left breast--and physicals do have breast exams. She asked where the scar came from and I responded that it was from a cut. She didn't press for any more information, and the physical went on.

I made sure that I wasn't concerned about the cut, and so the doctor wasn't either. I learned that when you present information to people, they will often accept it as you portray it. So as soon as I decided how much I would tell her, I worked on making sure I could tell her confidently.

However you decide to approach kink with your doctor is your choice. I have a kink that many people freak out about, blood play. It is why I decided to not talk to my doctor about it. My decision was based solely on what my kink is. I was and am safe about my kink. But however you decide my advice is to be confident about it.

Availability of Sizes

I've been thinking a lot about something that has bothered me.

Victoria's Secret stopped selling size XL panties in their stores awhile ago. Briefs are the only kind that are available in an XL in stores. When I saw this, I thought: "well, that sucks..." but I figured I'd just order online if it was really a problem. Instead, I think I've decided to just not shop there. I am not sure if I am being silly about it.

I thought maybe the size just wasn't selling. I don't think that's the case though. I mean they're still selling one style of panties in their stores for those who wear XL. It is the style that covers the most and comes in the least amount of colors/fabrics.

I know it's often the case that a store won't cater to certain sizes. Usually larger sizes but not limited to them. I would imagine finding very small sizes may be difficult as well. I can't speak to that myself because I have never dealt with that. But I've seen some of my friends struggle with finding something that fit them and ultimately having to resort to the children's section.

What messages do we get from this? For me, I'm seeing:
If you're a larger woman then you need to cover your body as much as possible or just shop online and don't come in our stores.

If you are a very small woman then your body isn't that of a woman. You're like a child so go to that section.

I realize I am using the noun "woman". I am not doing this to say that men or those who choose neither noun do not face issues when it comes to sizes. However, I've only ever had experience as a woman and in stores that cater to what a women is perceived to be.

Both of these messages suck, to be quite honest. Maybe some women prefer shopping online so it won't be a problem. But what if they don't? What if they can't find and/or afford stores that cater to their size? And not everyone is capable of making their own clothing. So they're left with trying to fit in what is available. Ultimately they are given the above messages. Their bodies aren't normal so their bodies won't be represented or catered too.

It's obvious how detrimental this message can be. Not everyone is able to say "society is fucked up, not me and my body".

I usually like to end my posts with something positive. I don't like complaining and not offering a solution. But quite honestly I don't know the solution. The most helpful thing I've found is to have and promote a body positive attitude for all body types. That includes not catering to campaigns that say something like "real woman have curves". I'm also always on the search for stores that sell a larger variety of sizes and when I find some I tell others about them.

Those things probably seem small but if the majority of the messages we receive are not body positive then I think any small thing to counter that is important and worth while.

Identity and Abuse

Over a year later and I still find myself thinking about the ways in which I was abused. With time I've realized it wasn't just my ex who was abusive but also people in my family. The way my father and one of my brothers treated me, I thought that was just the way my family operated. My mother accepted it and I learned to as well.

Through work with wonderful people I've come to identify as a survivor and not a victim. I don't cry as much as I used to. And I don't blame myself anymore.

I used to think about all the things I lost. These things were never tangible. I can't measure the amount of trust I lost in people. I was never able to show people the ways in which I felt like I was crazy. Feeling incapable of being in a relationship and a worthy partner was something I had to deal with alone because no one else saw it.

As much as I've lost, I've been able to notice the things I've gained as well. This wasn't something immediate nor was it easy. Everything I feel I've gained took a lot of tears and time. Again, these are not  physical things but I notice them daily.

I'm a lot stronger than I've given myself credit for in the past. I'm a person capable of so much. I can love and be loved. And deserve it.

Even though I am at a place where I notice these things I still let myself feel whatever I want. I mean that sometimes I will feel depressed, angry, or hopeless. It's OK. There are no rules or timeline.

Getting rid of the idea that I'm "supposed to be over it" has been the best thing I've done for myself. I'm able to tell people:

• No, I didn't ask for it.
• No, I don't seek out dramatic relationships.
• SM isn't abuse.
• I stayed for a lot of reasons, not because I wanted to be abused.
• It's not always easy to leave. 
• I can still cry or yell about it if I want to.

I know that I can be abused again. As bleak as this sounds I think it's very important to realize. Sometimes it seems as though someone who is abused in multiple relationships is shamed. Being abused once doesn't give anyone special knowledge to avoid it in the future.

Above I said I identify as a survivor. That is my personal choice. I don't think anyone who is/was abused has to use that term. For some, "victim" may feel more appropriate. Some people choose neither which is fine as well.

Telling someone who is/was abused how they should identify seems harmful when so much might have already been taken away from them.

Sinful Smoke

The night is still hot from the bright sunlight of the day. The boards creak, even now, under any weight. At some point the sad porch had been painted a dull neutral tan but now it was more brown and scratched than painted. In the desert, there really isn't much to look at at night. Just more apartment buildings, and small gardens the building tries to keep in one piece. I slip a cigarette between my lips and pull. The paper cracks and burns. The cherry flavor of the filter is crisp on my tongue. My cup is empty, sitting by itself against the railing.

The low groan lets me know he's there and I turn my head. So often, there are comments about the way in which feminine wiles turn heads and melt brain cells. Really, the way he leans against the top of the door frame with one hand, giving me the long line of his body, is practically criminal. I can't read his face; the lamp behind him hides any expression.

I never sleep well with someone else in the bed. Hell, even without the extra body its nearly impossible. I turn back out to the night, believing that if I stare at the stars long enough he'll get the message and go back to bed, and to Jack. He doesn't though. Instead, he curls around me, bringing my hand to his lips and pulling from the cigarette. I would raise an eyebrow but knowing Brendan he'll just laugh and say 'in moderation'. Tonight, I'm not up for the usual games. The way he holds me still makes me uncomfortable. At first it was all in fun, and games. My first love, not fell by the wayside not too long ago. I like to forget the way being held feels. Brendan and Jack are really the first two people I've ever slept next to.

I'd like to say that I'm shaking because its cold, but honestly I don't know what to think. Less than a month ago I met Brendan at a party. Tonight, I've learned new worlds exist. New words exist. Words like Kinky, and Poly-amorous sound more like fairy-tales than diction. It's like I've slipped in the shower and woken up in a porno.

I'd like to remind him that Jack is sleeping in bed, but as her lover, I'm sure he'd know best whether she'll miss him or not. I'm betting not. He could be a killer. They could be using me. I wonder if anything they've said is real tonight or if it's all for the sake of a threesome. I flick the butt of the cancer stick somewhere into the gravel and debate whether to reach again into the pack of cloves on the railing. I lean into him and kiss him hard. If we stand here too long we'll have to talk. "More, Please."

His lips are hot at my throat, and the night is already warm to begin with. It isn't long before he ducks inside to the bedroom and is back again. He curses at the condom and then again as he first shoves aside my underwear. I know I can say the words they taught me tonight. I can make this stop but I don't want to. I should feel embarrassed but I'm not. We're fucking for the world to see, and he's biting at my neck while wrenching my hands behind my back. I can't breath. I'm off balance, but he's not going to let me go. I'm trying not scream, not to make a sound. He just laughs in my ear and tells me to let the neighbors know if I'm enjoying myself. It's all to much for my brain. I'm answering back to every dirty thing he says and tomorrow I'll feel like a slut and a whore for it. Tonight? Tonight, I can't remember what I'm saying, or tell if that's really my voice answering him.

It's over too quickly and not soon enough. I can't help but watch every corner and pray that no one sees us, or am I really hoping someone does? The full condom gets tossed lazily into a trash can before the tell-tale noise of a zipper lets me know that he's back to being half dressed again. He pets me and kisses me. My knees feel empty. When I stand on tip toe to kiss him; they shake. He inclines his head and pulls me toward the living room again.

I shake my head and motion for the pack next to me. An after sex cigarette is the perfect excuse. Something flashes across his face. I don't know what it means. He and Jack have this whole other language spoken in subtle looks and shoulder shrugs. Instead, I light up defiantly and stare out into the night, pretending like nothing is wrong and like I know what he means. I adjust my panties like I'm not covered in sweat and condom lube.

Hell, even if I am just a toy to them, its nice to be wanted. Even if they are lying and the world isn't full of these words, I can do what I like for the price of my soul. I lost that to a kid with a hard-on for Blink-182, anyway. So, I pull from the cigarette and pretend this is old hat. I try to make smoke rings like my mind isn't going a mile an hour. If I tip my head at the right moments no one will know that I haven't a clue. For Brendan and Jack I can be a wet dream.

I can be a fantasy.

I can be Jet.

No where else in the world matters.

Maybe, just maybe, they aren't lying. Maybe a few words and some rough sex don't make me everything everyone has said I am. Maybe I can be all of these things and somewhere there really are people that believe my desires don't make me terrible. The cigarette is bitter and the light grey smoke puffs into the warm air. The taste of cherries is heavy on my lips from the cigarette filter. At night, the desert is quiet and I'm left with my thoughts and an empty glass.



Seven years later, I don't quite know why Jack and Brendan took me in. I was a little more than a lost child. Nights in New York City are nothing like the warm evenings in Phoenix, Arizona. Brendan and I connected on such a level I swear I could feel him breath when we danced in circle. Jack, well, she was hell on wheels. At seventeen I lucked out and fell into bed with people who taught me what it is to know kink, and sex, and what I wanted. I came to them afraid, lost and alone. I left a growing thing and unashamed.  There is something to be said for park theory. You always leave less experienced partners better than when you found them, or at the very least in the same condition. They did more than that. They woke me up from a nightmare. My first love left me broken; most first loves do. My first real lovers helped me find what it is to be whole. There are a dozen horror stories about threesomes and adults who use young bisexual women. There are tops who abuse bottoms. There are bottoms who manipulate and abuse new tops. The world can be a scary place.  I want my very rare and lucky experience to exist somewhere other than my memory. I hope that my lovers remember the times they were nervous, and worried, and excited and know I did not use them. If I've ever played the part of corrupter, I hope my partners are better for it.  I hope I can continue to remember what it is to be new, to be scared, and to be on the verge discovering everything inside me.

Coming Out Kinky (Republished from ParksDunlap.wordpress)

Dear Parks,
 

What do you think about being out/coming out as kinky? Any advice or tips on how to navigate being a deviant?
 

Please visit soon,

Milwaukee, WI
 

Recently, many of my students and peers have been asking me about  BDSM/Kink, and because of certain popular book called Fifty Shades of Grey, BDSM is now being discussed in a more mainstream way. So lez do it!

(Flag of leather, latex, and BDSM pride)
 

BDSM, kink, and consensual power exchanges/dynamics are also a part of a lot of people's sex lives, including my own, and I want to represent and provide information about sexuality, all parts of it, with this blog and with my future as a sexuality educator.
 

So, coming out kinky...
 

I think it's important, when sharing any information about yourself, that you consider why you want to share that information. Is it because you want to feel politically represented? Is it because you want your loved ones to know what you are all about? Is it because your dad straight-up asks you what the San Francisco Citadel is and why you are going there so often and "Um...it's a nonprofit for sexuality education, exploration, and consent studies" just isn't gonna cut it anymore? (True life.)
 

Is it because someone sees your marks and is like "Are you okay? Did someone (he, it's always a he) hit you? You don't have to take this anymore. I know a place you can go," and coming out is just a part of assuring others that you are safe?
 

Is it because you need to out yourself in order to access more information about safety and how-to's, and to find others who have similar identites?
 

Is kink a political identity for you? Or is it just something fun that you do sometimes in a very private way?
 

Do you want to come out as kinky?
 

Are you ready to explain what BDSM is? And why it's not a monstrous thing?
 

Do you have the support systems  you need to feel safe coming out?
 

(I should really make a flowchart for this.)
 

Coming out can be a scary thing. And coming out kinky, well, it's often seen as an over-share. This is because kink, BDSM, and all that jazz are immediately seen as sexual. Kind of like whenever someone mentions gayness anal sex is immediately thought of.
 

Kink, in my opinion, and in my personal life, is a political identity. So much so that I flag every day.
 

When you tell someone you are into kink, into BDSM, you may align yourself with power exchange community. You are sharing a part of your identity that may tell others:

1. How you fuck
2. How you date
3. How  you may form your family
4. That a lot of what you do is actually illegal in most states ('cept New Jersey; you rule, New Jersey)
5. That with its illegality, you risk losing your job/kids/other important things by sharing this part of yourself with others
6. That your sex ed did not cover what your sex actually looks like
7. That you have not been represented in most sexual health books
8. That you are having queer sex, because the sex that you are having is non-normative, making it queer

You also need to think about how when you come out as kinky, you may be outing partners of yours as well. If you tell someone "I only have kinky sex" and that person knows who you are dating, guess what? You just outed your partner.
 

So ask your partner(s) first, and discuss how to share your sexuality with others without outing people without their consent.
 

You will also probably have to have a conversation about consent with most people you come out as kinky to. Because they will honestly and well-meaningly want to know why kink is not abuse.
 

Kink and BDSM are not abuse because they demand the consent of everyone involved. If there is not consent, it is assault. Not kink, not sex, not play, but sexual violence.
 

Plain and simple.
 

(This is not to say that abuse does not happen in the BDSM community, because  it does.)
 

It's important to focus on the positive aspects of why you love kink. The blog Happy BDSM has a lot of smiles and kink (NSFW).
 

People will also say a lot of stuff like this:

(Yes, this was one of my internet procrastination projects with one of my best friends. And that is my room. And that is my speculum.)
 

Sometimes it's also important to keep it simple when coming out kinky. As a friend of mine put it, "This is not a game of shock and awe."
 

Sometimes I come out by saying that "A partner and pet of mine..."
 

Or when someone asks me about a bruise, "Everyone involved had a great time," and leave it at that.

A friend in NYC on coming out kinky: "... I often just act like it's a normal part of my life. Because, you know, it is."
 

Remember that you are normal.
  

Focusing on the positive, on the caring, on the joy, eye contact, smiles, and intentional planning that goes into BDSM/kink is really important. 
 

Have resources available for when questions arise. You do not need to be the resource, but you can help guide people in your life to literature and videos that can help them get it.  Here is a link to Clarisse Thorn's BDSM Resources. This is a wonderful resource list. 
 

Remember that you are not alone. A lot of us love this stuff, live this stuff, find the hardware store a super-erotic place, and get off on dark and perverted stuff. Good luck! Godspeed! May there be wind in your sails and tails on your back.
 

And let me know how it goes!
 Read more from Parks on their blog:  parksdunlap.wordpress.com