My Review of The New Topping Book

Having spent more than two decades immersed in the BDSM community as an educator, and workshop facilitator, I approached Dossie Easton and Janet Hardy’s The New Topping Book with a blend of appreciation and a critical eye. This guide, first published in 2003, remains a cornerstone for those exploring the dominant side of power exchange. Like a trusted flogger, it has earned its place through years of use. Yet, as with any work of its era, parts of it now show their age in the light of our community’s growth.

Cover of The New Topping Book (2003 edition), a classic guide for BDSM tops. Easton and Hardy’s work emphasizes empathy, communication, and emotional intelligence as the bedrock of responsible dominance.

What Works Brilliantly

The book’s greatest strength is its insistence that emotional intelligence and empathy are core competencies for any top. Easton and Hardy flatly reject the tired stereotype of the cruel, unfeeling dominator. In fact, they highlight a “wonderful paradox”: a top may outwardly play the role of the cold sadist, yet internally they may be turned on by profound empathy, at times so deep it verges on the telepathicgoodreads.com. In other words, “consensual sadism, dominance and topping are primarily empathic activities”goodreads.com. This idea was revolutionary for its time and still feels refreshing today. As someone who has watched countless scenes go sideways when a dominant mistook aloofness for authority, I applaud the authors for showing that true dominance is less about barking orders and more about listening – with all the senses and the heart.

Easton and Hardy excel at practical advice on attunement. They stress the importance of “calibrating your bottom”, meaning a top should continually read and respond to their partner’s physical and emotional cues. The book offers concrete check-in techniques that have become nearly standard practice in the scene. One popular example is the “two squeezes” method attributed to educator Jay Wiseman: the top gently squeezes the bottom’s hand twice to ask “Are you okay?”, and the bottom squeezes back twice to say “Yes”anarchistbooks.wordpress.com. Especially when a bottom is gagged or deep in subspace, this kind of silent reassurance can be invaluable. The authors also enumerate subtle signs to monitor a bottom’s state – muscle tension, changes in breathing, shifts in posture or movementhavingmycake.net – and to my mind, this section alone is worth the price of the book. I’ve taught these same observational skills in workshops for years, and seeing them validated here is gratifying. Good tops don’t just command a scene; they co-create it by staying in tune with the bottom’s responses.

What truly elevates The New Topping Book is how it delves into the psychology of BDSM. The discussion of “shadow play” – drawing on Jungian concepts of the Shadow self – is especially sophisticated. The authors suggest that kink provides a unique pathway to explore the darker, “forbidden” parts of our psyche in a controlled, consensual space. They propose that our kinky fantasies might actually be “the longing to reunite with a part of ourselves that we have lost in the Shadow”goodreads.com. This framing has resonated with many people I’ve worked with. It takes BDSM beyond mere sensation or theatrics and into the realm of personal growth and even healing. Easton and Hardy themselves describe using S/M to “explore our darkness, illuminate it with our clear awareness, and reclaim forbidden territory as psychological healing, a way of becoming whole”goodreads.com. In my experience, viewing a consensual D/s scene as both a psychological journey and a form of play can be transformative. It helps bottoms and tops alike give themselves permission to feel and integrate parts of their identity that might otherwise remain in the shadows. Kink, approached with this empathy and self-awareness, becomes a tool for wholeness rather than a source of shame.

Where I Diverge

No book is perfect, not even a classic. There are areas where The New Topping Book shows its age or limitations, and I find myself diverging from the authors’ approach. One notable gap is in the handling of cultural trauma and power dynamics beyond the scene itself. Easton and Hardy do acknowledge that playing with themes like race, oppression, or historical atrocities (what some call “trauma play”) is extraordinarily sensitive. They caution that a top should never actually believe the prejudiced role they might play – “If I truly believe in some other people’s inferiority, is it okay for me to play this out in a scene? We hope not. Ideally, the top is pretending to be an oppressor that she doesn’t identify with.”goodreads.com. This is a critical point: the fantasy works only if all parties know it is fantasy, not a reflection of real beliefs. However, the book stops a bit short of fully grappling with how BDSM’s power structures can accidentally mirror systemic oppression. In the years since 2003, our community has had much more nuanced conversations about this. We’ve developed frameworks like trauma-informed consensual kink to ensure that, say, a Black submissive playing with themes of slavery or a Jewish masochist exploring non-consent can do so with careful negotiation and awareness of the real wounds those themes carry. For example, a recent workshop on Trauma-Informed Consensual Kink (TICK) for Black kinksters explicitly focused on navigating triggers and historical trauma, with the aim of turning BDSM into a tool of “pleasure, safety, and liberation” rather than inadvertently reenacting harmaasect.orgaasect.org. Easton and Hardy’s book, progressive as it was, simply didn’t have the benefit of this newer trauma-aware lens. Readers should be mindful to supplement what the authors say about “edgy” play with more current resources from marginalized voices who have articulated these issues in depth.

Another area where I wish the book had gone further is in discussing tops’ own vulnerabilities. The authors make the excellent (and often overlooked) point that “tops safeword too.” They even share a personal anecdote of Dossie Easton safewording out of a branding scene when it veered into territory she wasn’t ready foranarchistbooks.files.wordpress.com. This message is crucial: dominants are not invincible robots, and having limits or needing to stop is nothing to be ashamed of. Yet, despite stating this, the book doesn’t fully address the social pressure on tops not to use safewords. Many dominants I know – especially novice ones – struggle with a fear that safewording will make them appear weak or “fake.” There’s a pervasive idea that a “real” Dom should endure anything and never falter, which is nonsense, but a powerful myth nonetheless. I would have loved more discussion in The New Topping Book on overcoming this stigma. Similarly, the phenomenon of top drop (or “Dom crash”) gets little airtime. We hear plenty about sub drop in most BDSM literature – that emotional crash a submissive can experience after an intense scene – but dominants often have their own crash to manage. Top drop is very real: after the adrenaline and endorphins of a scene wear off, a top can feel a wave of emptiness, guilt, or sadnessconsentculture.communityconsentculture.community. I’ve encountered tops who were blindsided by these feelings because no one told them to expect it. While Easton and Hardy do mention that tops need care and aftercare, they don’t delve deeply into how to cope with those post-scene blues. In my own practice, I emphasize that aftercare is a two-way street – a dominant might need a blanket, a debrief, or just a hug and reassurance as much as the submissive does. It’s heartening that today’s kink communities talk more openly about top drop and top self-care (you’ll even find entries in kink glossaries defining “Top Drop” and its symptomsconsentculture.community), but the book’s coverage of this could use an update.

I also have a gentle critique of the book’s exploration of spirituality in BDSM. Easton and Hardy devote a chapter to the almost mystical, tantric aspects of power exchange – the rituals, the energies, the transcendent connections one can experience. As a person who has had moments in a scene that felt nearly sacred, I understand why they went there. Their later book, Radical Ecstasy, goes even further, documenting the authors’ “journey into the realm of transcendent kink”amazon.com. However, not all readers will vibe with the New Age tone. The heavy emphasis on ritual and spiritual transcendence might alienate more secular or down-to-earth kink practitioners. I’ve known excellent tops who approach BDSM in a very pragmatic, physical, or psychological way – more geeky than mystical – and they might roll their eyes at talk of chakras or erotic energy fields. The important thing, I think, is for readers to know that you can take or leave the spiritual framework. BDSM can be a doorway to spiritual experience if you want it to be, but it’s by no means a requirement. If flogging someone into catharsis feels to you like a sacred dance with the divine, wonderful – Easton and Hardy will validate that. If it just feels like a fun, intense form of recreational intimacy with no cosmic strings attached, that’s equally valid. The book’s warmth and humanity still shine in these sections, but it assumes a comfort with a kind of neo-pagan outlook that not everyone shares. Those who find the talk of “energy” a bit woo-woo may prefer to skim those parts or follow up with different resources (I’ll suggest a great one in the reading list) that present spiritual kink in a more structured way.

Personal Perspectives

One of the benefits of reading The New Topping Book as a switch – someone who enjoys both topping and bottoming – is the perspective it offers on the interplay between roles. Easton and Hardy observe that “most good players, both top and bottom, have some history of switching.” They imply that walking in the other role’s shoes, even briefly, can build empathy and skill. On a personal level, I agree that switching has made me a more well-rounded player. My experiences as a bottom absolutely inform my top side: I know viscerally what a cane stroke feels like, or how frightening and thrilling it is to be truly helpless, and that knowledge keeps me mindful and compassionate when I hold the whip hand. There is a delicious humbling that happens when a know-it-all Dom tries bottoming for the first time – you can almost see the lightbulb over their head (“Oh, this is why warm-up is important!”). The authors are right that switching can be an asset. However, I diverge from any implication that switching is necessary for competence. Some of the most skilled, empathetic dominants I know have never bottomed a day in their lives, and some brilliant submissives have zero desire to top. What matters more is a person’s capacity for empathy, communication, and continuous learning. Yes, it can take a bit more effort for a non-switch to gain understanding of the opposite role – they might rely on listening to partners’ feedback, observing others, or reading – but it’s entirely possible. Easton and Hardy themselves alternate perspectives throughout the book (sometimes using “he” for the top, sometimes “she,” to “challenge gender stereotyping”anarchistbooks.wordpress.com), showing an awareness that power exchange is a dance of dualities. Yet the absence of non-binary or gender-neutral language in these role discussions is noticeable now. The text often assumes a male top and female bottom or vice versa, and while it trades off pronouns to be fair, it doesn’t account for identities outside the binary. As a community, we have become far more cognizant of gender diversity. A non-binary reader or anyone who doesn’t fit the usual Dominant-Guy/Submissive-Girl trope might have to do a bit of mental translation while reading. This is not a flaw so much as a reflection of the time it was written – early 2000s BDSM literature in general was predominantly he/she-focused. Still, it’s worth noting: your mileage may vary when it comes to examples in the book. If you don’t see yourself in them, rest assured the principles still apply. Power exchange, at its heart, transcends gender; it’s about complementary energies that any person can embody.

Another personal note: I appreciate that the authors give a respectful nod to professional dominants – those who make a living from topping – but I found myself wanting more from that section. In a few pages, Easton and Hardy acknowledge the skill of pro dommes and dispel the notion that being paid makes the experience any less genuine or emotionally real (a needed point, as pro work is often unjustly dismissed as “just acting”). They briefly mention that pros have finely honed communication and scene-planning abilities, which personal players could learn from. This is absolutely true. Having collaborated with and learned from several professional dominatrices, I know how much insight they have into negotiation, boundary-setting, and imaginative scene crafting. The book, however, doesn’t go much further than saying “pros exist and aren’t all that different.” In reality, there are some unique considerations in the professional realm. For instance, when money changes hands, there are boundaries that might not exist in lifestyle play – a clear understanding that the domme is providing a service, that certain emotional entanglements are off-limits, and that the submissive client’s real-life identity may be protected (or vice versa). On the flip side, professional skills like conducting thorough pre-scene interviews, vetting play partners (e.g. checking references or prior behavior in the communitythrillist.comthrillist.com), and maintaining a dominant headspace for a set duration are all incredibly useful in personal play too. I would have loved a chapter exploring how one can bring a professional level of excellence into lifestyle BDSM – without necessarily charging your partner by the hour! – and conversely, how pros keep emotional balance when their work and personal pleasure intermingle. The authors touch on it, but I was left hungry for more. Perhaps this is asking a lot; entire books could be (and have been) written on the art of professional domination. But readers curious about that world will need to seek additional sources, because The New Topping Book gives only an appetizer.

Technical Considerations

From a technical standpoint, the advice in The New Topping Book has aged well overall. Flogging, spanking, bondage, sensation play – the staples are all covered with an eye toward safety and enjoyment, and those basics don’t really change with time. I smiled at many of the authors’ toy recommendations and tips, which I still find myself teaching to novices today. However, one amusing aspect of any book over 20 years old is seeing what wasn’t around yet. Easton and Hardy couldn’t have anticipated the explosion of high-tech BDSM toys and internet-enabled kink. They mention clamps and canes, but not violet wands in any depth (back then, the violet wand – a device for erotic electrostimulation – was a somewhat niche implement, not the near-ubiquitous club toy it is today). And of course, they make no mention of the now-common app-controlled vibrators or remote-operated chastity cages, some of which didn’t even exist until the last decade. The fact that you can give a partner across the world control of your sex toy via smartphone would have sounded like sci-fi in 2003! None of this is a fault of the book, just an observation that the world of kink gadgets has evolved. If you’re a newbie reading this book and then stepping into a modern dungeon, don’t be surprised when you see tools that never show up in the text. Take electro-play for example: Easton and Hardy give solid general guidance on safety with electricity (which boils down to know your device, go slow, and avoid the heart area). Those principles hold true even when you’re dealing with today’s more advanced TENS units or E-Stim toys. What has improved is the equipment itself – today’s violet wands are often lower in default voltage and have better adjustability for fine-tuning sensations, for instance, making them safer and more user-friendly than older models. The book’s core message on any tool is timeless: learn how to use it, respect its risks, and focus on the technique and connection rather than the fanciness of the toy.

Where negotiation is concerned, The New Topping Book provides a thorough foundation, albeit colored by the era’s thinking. The authors discuss the then-traditional credo of SSC – “Safe, Sane, Consensual.” That motto was a useful starting point, telling us that BDSM should be as safe as possible, sane (i.e. approached with sound mind and responsibility), and of course consensual. In the years since, the community has introduced refinements to this concept, and these aren’t reflected in the book. You might have heard acronyms like RACK or PRICK tossed around at munches or online forums. RACK stands for “Risk-Aware Consensual Kink,” and it emerged partly because people realized that nothing in BDSM (or life, really) is 100% safe or “sane” for everyoneen.wikipedia.orgen.wikipedia.org. RACK basically says: we know there are risks, we educate ourselves about them, and we consensually choose to proceed. Similarly, PRICK stands for “Personal Responsibility, Informed Consensual Kink,” emphasizing that each participant takes responsibility for understanding what they’re doing and owning the consequencesen.wikipedia.orgtheaftercarelounge.com. These frameworks arose from the kink community’s growing sophistication around consent and agency. While Easton and Hardy don’t mention RACK or PRICK (they were still relatively new ideas at the time), nothing in The New Topping Book contradicts them. The book even implicitly supports these concepts by encouraging tops to be honest about risks and to empower bottoms to speak up and make informed choices. For example, they list specific “things that might require specific consent” – like play that leaves marks, emotional roleplay, or anything bordering on a phobiahavingmycake.net – showing an implicit understanding that consent is nuanced. Modern readers might simply want to layer the RACK/PRICK mindset on top of the book’s negotiation checklists. In practice, this means being even more explicit about discussing worst-case scenarios (“Here are the risks; are we each okay with that?”) and making sure both top and bottom feel a sense of responsibility for how the scene goes, not just dumping it all on the top because they’re “in charge.” The tools for negotiation have expanded (some people use detailed spreadsheets or apps to map their limits and desires now!), but the underlying process described in The New Topping Book – communicate thoroughly, agree on a game plan, have safewords and signals, and debrief after – that’s still the bread and butter of consensual kink.

Follow-On Reading Recommendations

Despite a few dated elements, The New Topping Book remains essential reading for a developing Dominant. That said, no single book can cover the entire landscape of BDSM knowledge, and it’s always valuable to get multiple perspectives. For those who finish Easton and Hardy’s guide and are hungry for more – or who want to update and round out their understanding – here are some follow-on works I highly recommend, along with why they’re worth your time:

• Playing Well With Others by Mollena Williams and Lee Harrington – A more modern, community-focused guide that picks up where The New Topping Book leaves off in terms of social context. Williams and Harrington offer “a reality-based world in which there are all kinds of people” exploring kink, busting the myths spawned by fictional portrayals, and providing a practical field guide to BDSM events and culturecannonballread5.wordpress.com. This book excels at addressing the “community” aspect of kink – how to find your local scene, what to expect at munches, play parties, or fetish conventions, and how to behave with courtesy and respect. It also tackles some of the cultural gaps in Easton and Hardy’s work, such as inclusivity and diversity. Mollena Williams, being a woman of color and a renowned voice in the kink world, brings insight into areas like race and kink, which is a welcome complement to The New Topping Book. If you’re nervous about stepping out from theory into real-world practice, Playing Well With Others is like having a friendly mentor take you by the hand and lead you through the kink club door.

• The Heart of Dominance by Anton Fulmen – This is my go-to recommendation specifically for tops who want to develop their dominant identity and internal emotional skills. Fulmen’s book is, in a sense, the topping guide for the soul. It delves into the psychology and philosophy of being a Dominant in a very accessible way. Fulmen emphasizes throughout that “the true work of dominance is to enable and inspire submission,” not to coerce itfindingharmonyhunt.com. That perspective alone is gold – it reframes the Dom’s role as a facilitator of the submissive’s journey, not a dictator. The Heart of Dominance helps you explore what kind of Dominant you are (or want to be), offering language to define your “flavor” of dominance and concrete advice on how to communicate, set frameworks, and uphold consent within a power dynamic. As one reviewer put it, the book “gives you a glimpse into the mind of someone who understands the depth of dominance” and shows how to create a container for your D/s relationships so that they remain healthy and consensualfindingharmonyhunt.comfindingharmonyhunt.com. I found that Fulmen addresses some topics The New Topping Book only touches lightly – for example, how to negotiate complex emotional needs, how to handle a Dominant’s insecurities or fears, and how to build a sustainable long-term D/s dynamic. It’s an excellent next step in developing the self-awareness that Easton and Hardy say a good top should have.

• Power Circuits: Polyamory in a Power Dynamic by Raven Kaldera – Easton and Hardy mention polyamory and multiple partner dynamics only briefly, but whole worlds open up when you combine D/s with poly. Raven Kaldera’s Power Circuits is, as the subtitle says, about “Polyamory in a Power Dynamic.” It’s the first book of its kind to really navigate the tricky but rewarding waters of having multiple relationships intertwined with BDSMalfredpress.com. Through a collection of essays from various contributors, the book explores scenarios like having two submissives in a family, or balancing a primary 24/7 Master/slave relationship with other more casual play partners. It addresses issues of jealousy, time management, and hierarchy (e.g., is only one partner “the top” in all situations, or do roles shift?). If The New Topping Book whetted your appetite about power exchange but you’re also poly or curious about it, Power Circuits will show you how people make poly D/s work in real life. It’s also refreshingly frank about the extra challenges – for instance, how consent and communication need even more attention when three or more hearts are involved. Kaldera’s compilation doesn’t shy away from the pitfalls, but it also celebrates the unique “alliance” between polyamory and kinkalfredpress.com, showing that love and dominance can indeed mix in many forms.

• Sacred Kink: The Eightfold Paths of BDSM and Beyond by Lee Harrington – For those readers who are intrigued by the spiritual and ritual side of BDSM that Easton and Hardy describe, Lee Harrington’s Sacred Kink is the motherlode. This book dives much deeper into kink as a spiritual or sacred practice, offering a framework of “eight paths” (like the Buddhist eightfold path, reinvented for kink). It explores the sacred roots of kink tools and techniques, and how things like flogging, piercing, ordeal scenes, or role-play can be used as intentional rituals for personal growth or connection to something greateripgbook.com. Importantly, Harrington provides practical tools for those interested in this route: ideas for negotiation and aftercare when scenes are meant to be more than just sexy fun, but possibly transformative or cathartic experiencesipgbook.com. He talks about creating ritual play spaces, developing D/s protocols that have spiritual meaning, and even altered states of consciousness in play. I often recommend Sacred Kink to folks who read The New Topping Book and go, “I want more of the deep, sacred stuff!” It will guide you through that in a much more comprehensive way, and with a tone that is both reverent and accessible. Even if you’re secular, it’s an interesting read – and it underscores how BDSM can be more than “just play” if participants desire it to be.

• Radical Ecstasy by Dossie Easton and Janet Hardy – I’d be remiss not to mention the authors’ own follow-up work. Radical Ecstasy (2004) was Easton and Hardy’s next adventure, born from their desire to push the boundaries of kink into the realm of what they called “transcendent kink.” In this book, they share their personal journeys and experiments with reaching ecstatic, almost spiritual states through S/M and fetish explorationamazon.com. It reads at times like a travelogue of consciousness, with the same frankness and humor the duo are known for. Why is it worth reading after The New Topping Book? Because it takes some of the concepts of connection and energy that are introduced in Topping Book and runs with them to the extreme. If you found yourself intrigued by the idea that a BDSM scene could be a form of meditation or a way to experience altered states (sometimes described as “subspace” or even “top space”), Radical Ecstasy will validate and expand on that. It’s also quite a fun read – you feel like you’re right there with Dossie and Janet as they, say, breathe together in a Tantric whipping ritual or attempt to have an energetic (non-physical) orgasm. Not everyone will be into this level of woo-woo, but it’s a unique piece of kink literature that shows just how far the rabbit hole can go. And at the very least, it might inspire you to find the radical ecstasy in your own play, whatever form that takes.

Final Thoughts

Reading The New Topping Book again after many years, I was struck by how timeless much of its wisdom is. Yes, some parts are dated or imperfect – that’s inevitable. But the beating heart of this book, the message that reverberates on every page, is that good topping is ultimately about connection. It’s about the connection between partners – the top who leads with care and the bottom who follows with trust – and the connection each person has with themselves. Easton and Hardy illustrate that dominance is not a performance of cold perfection; it’s an intimate conversation. It requires empathy, skill, creativity, and above all self-awareness. That core truth remains as relevant today as when the book was first penned. I often found myself nodding along to their points, thinking of recent scenes I’ve done or mentors I’ve had who echoed the very same lessons. It’s a beautiful thing when a BDSM guide can make you feel seen as a human being, not just a collection of kinks. Despite the whips and chains on the cover, The New Topping Book is suffused with warmth, humor, and humanity. The authors never lose sight of the fact that we, as tops or bottoms, are vulnerable, feeling creatures doing something rather extraordinary together.

For new or aspiring tops, this book provides an excellent foundation. It will teach you how to top with both your brain and your heart engaged – to be not just a “player” but a genuine partner in erotic adventure. It gives you permission to care, to screw up and apologize, to laugh, to nurture, and to boldly explore your fantasies. Take those lessons, and also seek out newer knowledge to layer on top: our collective understanding of consent, safety, and inclusion only grows with time. For more experienced players, reading it is like coming home to the basics, but also finding little gems you might have missed or forgotten. Even after years in the lifestyle, I gleaned new insights and appreciated the nuanced way the authors discuss topics like ethics and psychology. In a community that often learns person-to-person, almost like an oral tradition, having a written tome of collected wisdom is invaluable. The New Topping Book has served that role for over two decades, and it’s still on the “recommended reading” list of many workshop instructors I know – with good reason.

I’ll end on a personal note that Easton and Hardy themselves would appreciate. At its best, BDSM is often described as a dance – a dance of power and surrender, of fear and excitement, of pain and pleasure. In that dance, the top leads, but only because the bottom trusts them enough to allow it. What The New Topping Book drives home is that being a top is not about dragging your partner through the dance by force; it’s about inviting them to dance with you, confidently and compassionately. The book invites tops to cultivate that confidence and compassion in equal measure. It reminds us that dominance is not a mask we wear to cover our humanity, but a role we step into to express our humanity – our desire, our creativity, our care – in a deeply fulfilling way. In the journey of topping, as in any journey of connection, there is always more to learn. Easton and Hardy set you on the path with guidance that is wise and kind. The rest is up to you: stay curious, stay humble, and never stop listening (to your bottom, and to your own inner voice). If you do that, you’ll find that the dance of consensual power exchange can transform you in ways you never imagined – a truth that, thanks to this book, remains wonderfully clear and bright.