Give the Witch Her Pleasure (The Royal Futanari Servant Book 1)

By Ashe Valenti

After a long search, Amethyst Preen - fiery witch and advisor to the King - has found the perfect new servant for Castle Gildkeep. Her name is Vivi. She’s young, she’s friendly, and she has something big and fun under her leggings! Just give her the order, and she’ll serve you well!

But why does Amethyst need such a sensual servant? What special tasks await Vivi behind castle walls?

GIVE THE WITCH HER PLEASURE (THE ROYAL FUTANARI SERVANT BOOK 1) is over 25,000 words of futanari on female magical fantasy fun!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ashe Valenti
• Release date: Apr 11, 2020
• ISBN: 9781370973316

Ashe Valenti

I’m Ashe, and I write the sexiest romantic erotica you’ve ever read! ?I fell in love with the futanari idea in high school, and ever since then futanari have been my passion. It’s like lesbian erotica, but with that very special something extra. There is nothing I love more than creating lovable and exciting characters - futanari & female - and seeing what fun they get up to together!You can find even more of my books at http://www.futanarierotica.com.

Book preview

Give the Witch Her Pleasure

The Royal Futanari Servant Book 1

Cover art by Ashe Valenti

Copyright 2020 Ashe Valenti

All characters in this book are over 18 years of age

~

Nothing exciting ever happened in the little town of Landry. Sure, the blacksmith could craft some lovely cloak pins, and you would be hard pressed to taste better honey-glazed pork than at Baxter’s Inn, but most people walked right past Landry and barely noticed it was there. It was the definition of dullness.

But for Amethyst Preen, royal emissary and adviser to King Mikus Garland, Landry might just be the most important town in the Kingdom.

The gray hooded cloak obscured Amethyst’s eyes. She had contoured her nose and jawline to look masculine. To perfect her out-of-luck drifter look, she had rubbed ash into her pores and around her fingernails. The few words she had spoken to Mr. and Mrs. Baxter had been in a low, uncouth drawl. When she sucked the pig meat from the bone, she let the fatty juices run down her chin. She downed mulled wine like it was warm water.

Old Mrs. Baxter’s cooking surprised her. Amethyst decided that when she returned to Gildkeep Castle, she would send the kitchen mistress Plum down to Landry to learn their secrets. Never had she tasted such delicious pig.

She watched people come and go. A girl so pale she looked snowborne strummed a lute in the corner. She gave a gentle rendition of ‘The Maid went Down one Morning’; a sickly-sweet tune that was only tolerable for its many double-entendres. The minstrel looked too pure to be singing such a song, but she played it well and knew every word. She sang the line Ne’er’d she dream her grass’d be so wet so innocently that Amethyst had to wonder if she knew its other meaning. She didn’t even react when one scarred and toothless drunk barked Ha! Wet grass!

The townsfolk were so unremarkable. They could burn alive for all Amethyst cared; it was men like them that had put her grandmother to the stake sixty years ago. Stupid, ignorant dirt farmers with no knowledge of the world beyond their town. Grandma had been set alight for practicing herb magic. Harmless herb magic! These peasants had no idea what Amethyst was capable of in comparison.

She swallowed her anger with a mouthful of wine. Vengeful witches made mistakes. Vengeful witches burned.

She would not burn.

Can I get you more? A chirpy voice cut through her black thoughts, and Amethyst looked up to find a slim woman with boyish black hair and friendly, dark green eyes smiling down at her. Her skin was olive, marking her as a southerner.

Amethyst threw her a deliberately crooked smile. No fanks dear. Her rough-edged accent was on point. I’ll wave yous over when I’m firsty again.

The woman tossed the cleaning rag over her shoulder. You have excellent taste, and a generous patron like you deserves the best we have to offer.

Generous? Amethyst had asked for their finest mulled wine and had paid extra for a succulent slice of pig meat. She supposed that went far in a small town like this.

It was obvious why the Baxters hired the friendly young woman. But Amethyst noticed the polite and safe way the interaction went: her smile was genuine, but not flirtatious. When most serving girls saw the rough-edged, heavy-cloaked boy was easy with his coin, they’d say anything for a tip. This woman only wanted to serve her well.

It was a very good sign.

The night wore on, and it wasn’t until most folk had either passed out or left that the minstrel began packing away her lute. Amethyst watched the slender, olive-skinned serving woman strike up a conversation with her. They looked so easy and relaxed together that Amethyst suspected they knew one another. The minstrel looked up at the serving woman through long, batting lashes, and the serving girl giggled and blushed at parts of the conversation. At one point, she asked to look at the lute. When it was in her hands, the serving woman caressed its wooden body with her fingers, tracing its curve, her fingertips sliding over its finish with such sensual tenderness that Amethyst felt a quiver run through her.

This could be it. This could be what she had been searching for.

They spoke softly, but Amethyst had mastered lip-reading when she was a child and could pick up most of the conversation. There was talk of where the minstrel was staying the night, and when she confirmed that the Baxters had promised her free lodging up in the attic, the serving girl’s eyes lit up. Oh, but a monster rat nests there with all her babies! She’ll bite your neck while you sleep. You’ll need someone to stay up there and guard you.

The minstrel giggled and agreed that she was better off not spending the night alone.

They had parted soon after, the minstrel making her way upstairs while looking at the serving girl over her shoulder. The serving girl worked quickly at finishing her duties. She hurried all the drunks out, she wiped down the tables and chairs, and she took Amethyst’s plates and mug with a quick smile. Unlike the other patrons, she let Amethyst sit undisturbed in her quiet corner. Jen and Marvin Baxter stood behind the counter wiping the mugs and finishing the leftover pork and roots.

Do you want any, Vivi dear? Jen Baxter asked. The serving girl shook her head. I’m going to bed.

What was that, Vivi? Mr. Baxter said, sticking his finger in his ear and giving it a shake.

Did you say you wanted bread, dear? Mrs. Baxter asked.

"I said I’m going to bed, the serving woman named Vivi repeated loudly. She gestured to get her point across. I’ll see you both in the morning." Without waiting for a response, she raced up the stairs in the same direction as the minstrel.

Now was the time to act. Amethyst had to find out if this woman, this Vivi, was what she had been searching for.

Much as she would have liked to follow her upstairs, this night called for more secrecy. Amethyst reached into her cloak and slipped her hand into a hidden pocket. She stroked the warm, furry back of a tiny friend. Gently, she pulled out a three-week-old barn mouse.

This was a new magic for her. She had established a link with the mother mouse’s pups when they were still suckling, and she hoped all the time and effort would pay off. Cupping the mouse in her hand and stroking its back with her thumb, she waited for the little creature to be calm. They were in a new place, with new sights and new smells, and mice were terrified of novelty. They craved what was safe and familiar. It’s okay, she whispered. You’re safe.

When it relaxed, Amethyst closed her eyes. She reached out of herself, feeling for the mouse’s mind. When she found it, she gently reestablished their link. Her breathing slowed. She controlled her thoughts, and then, after a very slow minute, it happened.

She opened her eyes to the darkness within her own cupped hands. She slipped out between her own fingers, blinked several times, then craned her neck up. She could see her cloaked self sitting perfectly still, deep in a