“We didn’t write this book as a how-to; it’s a description of our own journeys into transcendent sex and SM, with some thoughts about why it’s worked for us and some ideas about how to make it work for you.”

Better-known as the co-authors of The Ethical Slut, The Bottoming Book and The Topping Book (both reprinted in new, expanded editions), Dossie and Janet (who also writes under other names) comment on the “authority” of authors:

“Religion teaches us to defer to the wisdom of a higher authority – Jehovah, the priest, the guru, the ten commandments, the twelve steps. Academia teaches footnotes: what we say must always be based on somebody else’s authority. . .

“We decided to report to you our experiences on a journey we made while we wrote it, to share with you our thoughts, our play, our sex, our arguments, our discussions, our journeying, our journaling about what we did and how we felt and what we thought about it . . .We decided, for better or for worse, to write this book on our own authority. We hope to encourage you to discover and rely upon your own.”

In a clever section named “Words fail us,” the authors explain their basic dilemma:

“Transcendence is, pretty much by definition, a state of being beyond words. Books are, pretty much by definition, made of words. You could say that this situation created some difficulties in writing this book – if you were prone to vast understatements.”

Dossie and Janet go on to say that they have more questions than answers about the states of transcendence or ecstasy associated with SM. They explore the parallels among various methods of seeking ecstasy (defined as “a state of being beyond reason and self-control”): tantra, yoga and ancient religious rites “involving sensations of pain designed to alter our states of consciousness and wake us up to the glorious flow of the life force inside us.”

In “Morality Play,” the authors discuss the lesson that most of us were taught as children: that sex is a sinful or childish or unhealthy form of self-indulgence and that pleasure must be earned. They ask whether anyone really knows what sex without guilt would feel like. They also point out the importance of real morality in SM: a willingness to take care of those we play with, “especially when we’re exploring our darker and more challenging fantasies.” They discuss the paradox of honoring sadism or cruelty as well as masochism or a desire for cruelty as routes to intimacy and a sense of connection with the universe as well as with the other player(s).

In “What Does It Feel Like?” the authors explain a sense of being present in the moment and accepting everything that happens as one of the goals of SM, assuming that “goal” applies to the flow of it, the sense that there is no past and no future. Janet describes her experience of this state in a scene in which Dossie (who is usually the bottom) flogs her, by request:

“Take it in, green lady,” she [Dossie] murmurs in my ear. “Look at that green rising up in you.” And suddenly I am emerald, a woman of emerald, clear and shimmering in the sunshine, the green flaring up like flame with every stroke of the flogger. I have a sudden vision of myself as a superhero, a magical being of green light. I am entranced by my own beauty.”

This passage about “being green” (which, as the authors explain, is the color associated with the heart chakra) helps to explain one of Janet’s pen names, “Lady Green,” as well as the name of her press. Ironically enough, Janet is described by herself and by Dossie as the pragmatist, the one who is usually skeptical of “woo-woo” descriptions of spiritual experience, which Dossie, the therapist, accepts more readily.

The image of a green snake appears on the book cover, entering the base of a human spine and emerging further up as the human figure lies face-down on flowers against a burgundy background. While this image may remind Christians of a fall from grace in the Garden of Eden, it seems intended to suggest the opposite: the rising of energy through the seven chakras, or human energy centers.

The snake motif recurs throughout the book in the form of a cartoon-like drawing of a coiled snake (suggestive of a coiled whip or a winding river) with large, round eyes that stare at the reader from every chapter heading. The whimsical artwork and page layout, which includes a border design that looks crocheted, add to the charm of the book and illustrate the authors’ claim that visualization is in some sense more powerful than words.

This relatively slim volume deliberately covers more topics than any how-to book on BDSM. In the section on relationships, Dossie writes, “My slut lifestyle is a great joy to me,” but then she explains why many of her relationships, sexual and otherwise, have resulted in misunderstanding and disappointment. Both authors discuss relationship dynamics in clear language while showing the reader why their own unusual friendship works for them.

In “Mind Journeys,” the authors discuss various roles and scenarios including age play, scenes involving subhuman or superhuman beings, and “resistance and takedown.” They explain the risks involved in each and the satisfaction to be had from a successful scene. However, in the last section of the book, the authors warn that being open to love and to the energy of the universe (which might be two terms for the same experience) is not a state of being which can easily be turned on and off.

Dossie and Janet warn further that: “A lot of people are frightened or threatened by openness, whether it’s the emotional kind or the spiritual kind or the sexual kind. It calls into question many of their assumptions about the way they’ve chosen to live their lives.” This rational explanation for the persecution of the “leather community” in general by the rigidly righteous also helps to explain why education alone might not be enough to bridge the credibility gap. In conclusion, however, the authors point out that they have no regrets.