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One | Two


The guards led Jasmine back to her bedroom by her leash. Jasmine didn’t even bother trying to cover her newly-enlarged breasts or her hairless pussy. It took all her remaining strength just to dry her tears and avoid giving the guards the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

But once they had unleashed her, thrown her bodily onto her bed, and then left, closing the door behind them, she let the tears come.

Her life was ruined. Her world was ruined. *Everyone’s* world was ruined. Jafar ruled supreme, and it was all her fault, all because when her beloved Aladdin had wished for “the world that Jasmine desired”, she had been thinking stupid, slutty, whorish thoughts about how confusingly arousing it had ben to be treated like a slave by Jafar.

This wasn’t what she really wanted. Not with any part of her brain – only the dumbest, most traitorous parts of her pussy. She had to fix this. She had to.

But she began to realise that first she had to fix something else. That same stupid, traitorous cunt had become progressively more aroused with each new humiliation that Jafar had visited upon her, and now it was literally oozing with need, soaking her sex juices into the crotch of the transparent gauzy pants she had been dressed in.

She was alone in her room. Nobody could see. Slowly, she dipped a hand inside her pants, and began to sensuously stroke her pussy, just like her handmaiden had shown her that day on her 18th birthday.

It felt good. *Very* good. She heard herself moan. In her mind, she pictured that Aladdin was there with her – not in the expensive robes of “Prince Ali”, but in the dirty, ragged clothes of the street urchin he really was.

“Oh, Aladdin,” she sighed – and then, without thinking what she was saying, “Oh, Master…”

Her free hand went to the metal collar around her neck – which she now realised was welded in place, unable to be removed without heavy metal tools – and somehow the feel of its heavy weight made her even wetter. She pinched her clitoris, and writhed, and pumped her fingers in and out of her snatch, and pictured kneeling at Aladdin’s feet, while he clipped a leash to her collar…

“Oh wow, did I come at a bad time or what?”

Jasmine’s eyes sprang open. Her hand jerked away from her pussy, and she instinctively began drawing herself up into a sitting position, blushing furiously, trying to cover her tits and pussy with her hands.

The Genie was floating at the foot of her bed, his eyes bulging cartoonishly as he gazed at her slutty performance.

“Genie!” Jasmine hissed. “What are you doing?”

“I just came to chat,” said the Genie, “but I can watch instead, if that’s what you want.”

“No!” said Jasmine. “But I’m glad you’re here. You need to put all this back the way it was! I didn’t want this!”

The Genie looked said. “No can do, Princess. Your wish put the lamp back in Jafar’s hands. He’s my Master now – all this Genie power is solely at his command.”

“Where does he keep the lamp?” asked Jasmine. Getting her hands on that lamp might be the key to fixing this world gone mad.

The Genie drew his hand across his mouth, and his lips changed briefly to a metallic zipper. “Mmf mmf mmf!” he said – then unzipped his mouth and said, “by which I mean, I’m forbidden from saying. That Jafar has all the angles covered. Although he didn’t forbid me from coming to talk to you about *other* things.”

“Does he remember how all this happened?” asked Jasmine.

The Genie shook his head. “No one remembers but you and me, Princess. You remember because apparently your desire included wanting to remember, and I remember because I’m the Genie. For everyone else, this is just the way it’s always been.”

Jasmine drew herself up onto her knees and looked at the Genie with pleading eyes. She even let her hand slip from her breasts a little, in case a bit of seduction improved her chances. 

“How can I fix this, Genie?” she asked. “Please, tell me what I have to do.”

“That lamp is locked up so tight it would take a master thief to break it loose, Princess,” said the Genie – and then he looked at her, and deliberately winked. “So the question you should be asking yourself isn’t ‘where’s the lamp’ – it’s ‘where can I find a thief’.”

Jasmine’s eyes widened. “Aladdin! Genie, where’s Aladdin? What’s happened to him in this world?”

The Genie pulled back and drew himself up into an aloof posture. “I’ve said all I can say. Good luck, Princess.” And then, in a flash of blue smoke, he vanished, leaving only the scent of cinnamon and of myrrh.

Jasmine’s pussy was still wet and needy, but she ignored it. How could she have been lying there, pleasuring herself, when it was her duty to fix this madness? Was that how the Princess of Agrabah should behave?

She needed to get out of here, and find Aladdin. She cast her eyes around the room. The door was locked – and probably guarded – but there was an open window big enough to crawl through. Jafar had probably assumed she wouldn’t dare escape through it, given that outside there was nothing but a sheer drop to the pleasure gardens below – but Jafar had forgotten that Jasmine was a nimble climber, a skill perfected in her childhood exploring the palace.

Soon Jasmine was out the window, and carefully scaling her way down the palace wall. Within minutes, she was able to drop to the soft grass of the pleasure gardens. These vibrant gardens hosted plants from a hundred kingdoms, maintained in a dense, riotous jungle by talented gardeners for the pleasure of the Sultan. From here it would be a short walk through the lush foliage, and then over another wall, and she would be free to escape into Agrabah.

But as she began to cross the gardens, she hear a soft, bestial rumble from behind her.

Standing amongst the trees was Jasmine’s pet tiger, Rajah. He had been Jasmine’s sole friend throughout a lonely childhood. Large, muscular, and fuzzy, he had been a constant guarantee of safety in an often confusing world.

He wasn’t making her feel safe now, though. His body was tense, coiled – as if he was about to attack.

“Rajah?” said Jasmine, nervously. 

The tiger took a step forward – and Jasmine now saw, to her horror, that Rajah’s eyes had that same, glazed look as her father’s had. Her beloved pet was under the hypnotic control of Jafar.

“Please, Rajah,” Jasmine begged. “It’s Jasmine – remember?”

The tiger stepped forward again – and Jasmine gave up. Terrified, she turned to run.

Rajah was on her before she had even gone three steps. She felt the huge, heavy weight of the beast strike her in the back, and she fell forward, onto all fours. She felt Rajah’s hot, slobbering saliva splatter on her back, and she closed her eyes, waiting for his teeth or claws to rip her apart.

But instead something else happened. The tiger’s jaws closed – on the hem of her pants. Rajah pulled backwards, and the fragile fabric ripped into shreds immediately.

“Rajah?” said Jasmine, trying to look back over her shoulder, but otherwise afraid to move. “What are you doing?”

Then she felt the tiger’s warm breath near her anus, blowing over her exposed – and still very wet – cunt, and she knew immediately what was happening.

Her secret shame. Her deepest guilt.

She had never been brave enough to take up her father’s suggestion and ask one of her handmaids to pleasure her pussy. But like any teen girl, she had had urges, and the longer she repressed them, the stronger they had grown. One night she had been sleeping in her room, with Rajah curled at the foot of her bed, and she had woken from an erotic dream with her pussy pulsing and her mind shrouded in lust and need.

“Rajah…” she had called, and when she felt the great tiger wake, and climb up onto the bed, she had reached out to find his huge, leonine head, and guided it gently down to her pussy. Her loyal friend had begun to lick – first, simply to show affection, and then to taste more of the interesting moisture that his tongue had discovered – and Jasmine had moaned, and spread her legs as wide as they would go, and allowed her pet to lick her pussy to an intense, brain-shattering orgasm.

Afterwards, wracked with guilt, she had told herself that she would never do it again – but that had only lasted until the next time she was horny, when she specifically sought out her tiger to receive another licking from his beautiful, sandpapery tongue. And again the week after that.

But her slutty behaviour had had consequences. Rajah didn’t understand that their trysts were secret, and to her embarrassment, the tiger began eagerly nosing at her groin even in public settings. She had to attempt to push the heavy animal away bodily to stop it from beginning to lick at the front of her pantaloons in front of the guards, or her father, or Jafar. 

In addition, she had begun to find the tiger was increasingly horny. She didn’t know if Rajah was reacting to her sexual pheromones or something else, but her pet more and more often sported a large, visible erection. In desperation one day she had actually taken Rajah’s cock in her hand, and gently stroked it, until Rajah made a strange mewling roar, and white fluid had spurted all over Jasmine’s hand. She had hoped it might sate the tiger, but after that he seemed to specifically seek her out when he had an erection – including one alarming night when she had woken in darkness to find the tiger standing over her in bed, its erect cock inches from her face. The only way she could get Rajah to climb down was to once again pleasure his phallus – and this time the resulting goo had splattered across Jasmine’s face and breasts.

She knew she was disgusting. What kind of slut cockteased an animal? And she had begun to realise that she risked being punished for her sluttishness in the most appropriate manner possible, as Rajah became steadily more sexually demanding. He was heavier than Jasmine, and a deadly predator, and if he wanted something, Jasmine was powerless to resist.

And now, here in the pleasure gardens, she was about to get what she deserved. She felt Rajah extend his tongue, and lick her wet, hairless fuckhole, and she whimpered in humiliation, shame and violation.

“Please, Rajah,” she begged. “Be a good boy. Lick my pussy.” She didn’t really want him to lick her – not here, not now – but she was acutely conscious that if Rajah just licked her to orgasm, she would be getting off lightly.

But that wasn’t Rajah’s plan. He raised himself up, and she felt him place one heavy paw on her back, and then the other.

Jasmine sobbed in terror and humiliation – even as she noted that, even now, about to be raped by an animal, her pussy was *still* disgustingly, shamefully wet.

The tiger moved in closer, and she felt something tickle the entrance to her fuckhole – Rajah’s penis. This was how she was going to lose her virginity – nude, collared, on all fours, being fucked by her own pet. And she knew that she deserved it. She braced herself for Rajah to push forward and penetrate her.

“Down!” yelled a deep voice. “Shoo!”

Rajah jerked, and jumped down from Jasmine, and Jasmine looked up to see Jafar striding towards her across the pleasure gardens, flanked by two gardens. She almost sobbed with relief and gratitude. She had been saved – even if it was the hated Jafar who had saved her.

“Is this how you spend your free time, Princess?” asked Jafar sarcastically. “Mating with animals? I am hardly surprised.”

“I’m sorry,” sobbed Jasmine, not even sure what she was saying. “I’m sorry.”

“I am inclined to overlook your little… excursion to the pleasure gardens today, princess,” said Jafar. “After all, your future husband *can* be merciful.” But then he leaned down, seized Jasmine by her collar, and jerked her violently to her knees.

“But listen to me, bitch,” he hissed in her ear. “If you ever defy me again, your pet tiger *will* find you, and stop you. And next time I’m not going to be there to stop him doing… what comes naturally. In fact, I’ll enjoy the show. Do you understand me, Princess?”

“Yes,” sobbed Jasmine. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” asked Jafar.

She knew what he wanted. And as much as she hated to say it, there was no fight in her now. For all she knew, Rajah was watching and waiting for Jafar to withdraw his protection. She was genuinely, immediately dependant upon Jafar’s benevolence.

“Yes, Master,” she wept.

“Very good,” said Jafar. “Guards, leash the bitch, and bring her with me to the throne room. It is time for her to hear how she will be spending her days.”


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