Amity invites her friends to learn how to train slaves in their stables with eight men she brings in to be her demonstrations.
Debbie’s Gift
A 21st Century Femdom Classic Now in Electronic Format
by Amity Harris
My first novel, Debbie’s Gift, was published almost 20 years ago only in paperback. Thanks to everyone who bought a copy!
But it was never adapted into eBook format. Until now.
This version of the paperback has been edited. Significantly. The story has not changed. Much. I’ve rewritten substantial parts to make it clearer and in more than a few places, to make what happens to Ron, in the facility, Green’s punishment and more — and what’s coming next — easier to understand. I edited many (very!) long sentences and complicated (long!) paragraphs to make the story easier to follow. The Mistress deserved a bigger presence. So I gave her one. She is the reason this story is so impactful. Literally and figuratively. You can read into that whatever you want.

A Note From Amity
If you read the print novel, there are changes in the electronic version.
There is no pleasure without pain is a rule I live by and teach my boys. You’ll understand it better when you see how it works in the trainees’ new understandings of who and what they are.
This novel is the whole story. In all its mind-blowing agony. And Debbie’s gift to all women.
Introduction
DEBBIE WAS GETTING TIRED of her sex life with Ron. They had sex often enough but it was becoming more and more boring each time. Oh, she got close enough — rarely over the edge — but once Ron came, he was done. Worse, Debbie knew she’d have to change the new satin sheets in the morning. Ron and Debbie were in their middle thirties and the forties weren’t so far in the future anymore. The idea of the spending the rest of her life with typical and tedious lovemaking with its tiresome predictability was too dreary a future to imagine.
There had to be something she could do to transform her sexual monotony into unforgettable days that culminated in sensual nights. And maybe a few weekends.
Heck, maybe Ron would take off the white underwear he wore every day under his pin-striped suit. Just once.
Ron was a successful trial attorney. Debbie loved him and appreciated what his income, added to her own, afforded them. But there was more to life than their lovely house, his sportscar and her convertible. Kids? Someday, maybe. Her uppermost ambition was to figure out how to transform their humdrum nights in their redecorated master bedroom suite with something more enjoyable, something specifically for her. Something exciting. Something arousing. Something that tantalized her new and very curious feelings.
Debbie knew that whatever turned her on would do the same for Ron. She didn’t know where to start but she knew exactly where she wanted to go. She needed to put real thrills back in her bed. Her thrills, her orgasms.
It’s not that she changed. No, she’d gotten a little older but she was much better. Debbie was hungry for the kind of sexual delights that made her wet between her legs just thinking about them. It didn’t matter if Ron knew how she felt. She wanted him to learn what his job was. To make her feel that way. After all, she deserved it.
Debbie’s dilemma was the hard-to-understand way she was feeling. It was all new to her. She had a curious craving for Ron to satisfy her in ways he never had done before or couldn’t even imagine she wanted. Added to that, she’d been having bizarre daydreams at work. Every time she took a break from the never-ending contract reviews, she saw Ron. On his knees. Without the pin-striped suit. Or white underwear.
She couldn’t explain where that vision came from or how her need to order her husband to give her orgasm after orgasm with no concern for his own overpowered her at the oddest times. Like at work where her secretary, Tony, dropped whatever he was doing when she told him to get her a copy of a report or order takeout for lunch. He sprang into action and ran, not walked, to her favorite restaurant and delivered it to her conference table with panache.
Tony had flair out the wazoo. She needed Ron to learn how to be that way.
When Debbie looked at the men she worked with, she imagined them naked, too, obeying every command she issued. Willingly. Happily. As if being her, well, sex slave was who they were and what they knew they were meant to be. It gave them joy to submit to her. In her daydreams, anyway.
That’s what she hungered for Ron to do and to be. Her sex slave. Her perfect sex slave.
She never admitted her fantasies to anyone except one close friend at a monthly professional women’s meeting. When Debbie alluded to having sexy daydreams, her friend nodded in a strange way that made Debbie comfortable sharing the lurid details. That afternoon, she got a voicemail with a very short message and a phone number. “Call them,” her friend said. “It will change your life. It changed mine.”
It took two days, but Debbie closed her office door, told Tony to hold her calls and dialed the number. A voice asked one or two questions and scheduled a meeting for Debbie with the facility’s owner. She never got her name. Instead, they sent her a pre-loaded portable video player with a complicated password that said it could be used only once.
Debbie watched the video. When it was done, she opened her checkbook and sent the tuition to the facility to secure Ron’s place in the next class.
A week later, they came for Ron.