The Pleasure You Give
Description
Princess Penelope of Veridian, obedient to her father's will, travels to Aurelion in hopes of becoming the future queen by marrying Crown Prince Luka, heir to the throne. However, she quickly learns that the path to the crown is unlike anything she expected. The King of Aurelion demands that all potential brides for his son undergo a sacred initiation-an elite intimate training in the Art of Pleasure, conducted by the kingdom's famed royal sex-slaves. Captured fae who they called Adept of Pleasure. Among them is Rios, the Head Adept-the kingdom's most skilled and seductive Master; cold, mysterious, and dangerously alluring. Though Penelope is repulsed by the kingdom's traditions and Rios's role in them, she agrees to endure the training for the sake of her homeland.
Chapter 1
Jul 4, 2025
[Penelope's POV]
The moment my sister opened her mouth, I knew my day would be ruined.
"And then," Roset leaned forward with that particular gleam in her eyes that always preceded disaster, "the Aurelion ambassador told Lady Meredith's cousin that their nobles take multiple lovers. In public. Can you imagine?"
The ladies gasped in perfect unison, fans fluttering like startled birds. I gripped my teacup tighter, forcing myself to sip the elderflower tea though it turned bitter on my tongue.
"Multiple lovers?" Lady Greta pressed a hand to her chest. "Surely you jest."
"Oh, that's not even the shocking part." Roset's smile widened. "They have these creatures. Trained from birth to satisfy every noble whim. Every... intimate whim."
"Roset." My voice cut through the whispers. "Perhaps we could discuss something more appropriate."
"More appropriate? Oh, but sister, this concerns you directly!" She turned to me with a smile sugar-sweet and venomous. "After all, you are destined to charm Crown Prince Luka of Aurelion and become his Queen, are you not? Surely you should know what sort of... customs... await you."
The circle of noble ladies leaned forward like vultures sensing carrion. Lady Cordelia's fan snapped shut with a sharp click.
"Please do tell us more, Princess Roset," she breathed.
"Well, I heard they keep those slaves called Pleasure Adepts." Roset began to pace behind my chair, her voice growing louder with each word. "Fae human-like creatures, bound by magic and trained to satisfy every conceivable desire of their masters."
"Roset, stop this instant—"
"Every noble household has them," she continued, ignoring my command. "Dozens of them, skilled in arts that would make a courtesan weep with envy."
"How barbaric!” Lady Beatrice gasped dramatically. “To use magic for such purposes!"
"Barbaric?" Roset laughed, the sound sharp as breaking glass. "Or simply honest about their desires? They say Crown Prince Luka has a particular fondness for—"
"Enough." I stood abruptly, my chair scraping marble. "I will not sit here and listen to such vulgar speculation! We are ladies of the Veridian court, not tavern wenches trading in gossip and filth."
The solar fell silent. Several of the younger ladies shrank back, but Roset's smile only widened.
"How precious," she purred, circling me like a predator. "Our beautiful and perfect princess, shocked by the mere mention of adult matters. Tell me, dearest sister, do you even know what happens on a wedding night?"
"You forget yourself," I hissed through clenched teeth. "How dare you—"
"Because from where I stand, you seem woefully unprepared for marriage to a man who expects his wife to be... accomplished." Roset's eyes glittered with cruel satisfaction. "What will you do when Crown Prince Luka discovers his bride is nothing more than a porcelain doll who cannot satisfy his desires? When will he reject you?"
The heavy doors swung open, cutting off whatever barb she'd prepared further. The Royal Steward stood in the doorway, his face grave beneath his formal cap.
"Your Highness Princess Penelope," he bowed deeply. "His Majesty King Theon requests your immediate presence."
I turned toward the doorway, grateful for the reprieve. "Of course."
As I moved to leave, Roset's voice followed me. "Do give Father my regards. I'm sure he'll be thrilled to hear how well-prepared his eldest daughter is for her royal duties."
I didn't trust myself to respond. Instead, I walked from the solar with my head held high, even as shame burned in my throat.
The corridors of the palace blurred past as I followed the steward. My mind raced with Roset's words, each one a poisoned dart finding its mark.
Had I truly been so naive to fully secure my purity for my future husband? So sheltered that I knew nothing of the world I was about to enter?
The steward knocked on the heavy oak door of my father's study. "Princess Penelope, Your Majesty."
"Enter."
My father stood with his back to me, staring out the window that overlooked our kingdom's rolling hills.
"Father?"
"Sit, Penelope," he commanded without preamble.
I sank into the chair across from his desk, spine straight despite the dread coiling in my stomach. On the desk lay a letter bearing Aurelion's golden seal: a sun with a crown at its center.
"King Frederic of Aurelion has responded to our proposal." Father finally faced me, his expression that of a man delivering a death sentence. "He agrees to consider you as a candidate for Crown Prince Luka's hand."
"A candidate?" The word tasted foreign. "Not a betrothed?"
"There are conditions." He picked up the letter without looking at it. Clearly, he'd memorized its contents. "You must travel to Aurelion and participate in their Sacred Training in the Art of Pleasure. It is apparently a requirement for all noble brides in their kingdom."
The room spun around me as I gripped the chair arms. "I… Their what?"
"It's a tradition dating back centuries. All potential royal consorts must be trained by the palace's Pleasure Adepts. To ensure they can properly serve the crown."
"Serve?" The word came out strangled. "Father, you can't mean—"
"I mean exactly what I say." His voice hardened. "You will go to Aurelion. You will complete whatever training they require. And you will secure this alliance."
"That's... that's barbaric!" I shot to my feet, my voice cracking with outrage. "You're asking me to prostitute myself—"
"I'm asking you to save your kingdom!" His fist slammed the desk, making the inkwell jump. "Iramholt grows stronger every day. Their armies mass at our borders. Without Aurelion's support, Veridian will fall within the year."
"There must be another way."
"There is no other way." He moved around the desk, grasping my shoulders with hands that had once lifted me onto his horse as a child. Now they felt like shackles. "You were raised for this, Penelope. Every lesson in languages, every hour of dance instruction, every moment of diplomatic training, it all led to this."
"I was raised to be a queen," I whispered. "Not a... not whatever this is."
"You were raised to do your duty." His grip tightened. "Just as I have done mine. Just as your mother did hers."
The mention of Mother, dead these ten years from a fever caught while negotiating trade routes in the bitter northern passes, struck like a physical blow. My eyes burned, but I wouldn't cry. Not here.
"How long?" I asked.
"You leave in three days. The journey takes a week. You'll have a month to complete the training before Prince Luka makes his selection."
"And if I refuse?"
Father's laugh was bitter as winter wine. "Then you'll watch from the palace walls as Iramholt's armies burn our fields and slaughter our people. Is your virtue worth that price?"
The accusation hung between us like a blade. I wanted to scream, to rage, to throw the cursed letter into the fire. Instead, I straightened my shoulders and lifted my chin, every inch the princess I'd been molded to be.
"I'll need an appropriate wardrobe," I said, my voice steady as stone. "And a larger retinue than originally planned."
"Whatever you require." Relief flickered across Father's face before he masked it. "Penelope—"
"Don't." I moved toward the door, pausing only when my hand touched the handle. "I'll do my duty, Father. Just as you taught me. But don't ask me to smile while I do it."
I left without waiting for a response, my footsteps echoing like a funeral march. Three days. Three days before I left everything I knew to become something I couldn't even name.
Behind me, I heard the soft sound of Father sinking into his chair, the weight of a kingdom crushing him as surely as it crushed me, but I didn't look back because princesses weren't allowed that luxury.
The Pleasure You Give
30 Chapters
30
Contents
Save
Passion Exclusive
My Passion
Copyright © 2026 Passion
XOLY LIMITED, 400 S. 4th Street, Suite 500, Las Vegas, NV 89101