Previous parts:
One | Two | Three


Once again Jasmine found herself kneeling before Jafar in the throne room – but now she was completely naked, but for her collar. The guards had ripped off the remains of her gauzy top as they had dragged her through the hallways, and now she didn’t even have that flimsy fabric to cover her bosom.

Jasmine’s father, the Sultan, who had been perched on his tiny stool, gazing dreamily into nowhere, jumped as if he had been shocked, and turned his face towards Jasmine. “Oh, hello again, my dear!” he said, in a vague, confused tone. “Your fuckbags truly do look extraordinary! You’re the very picture of an invitation to rape!”

Jasmine blushed bright red, and looked at the floor. 

Jafar, seated on his throne, waved his hand. “In time, your Majesty, in time. Now, princess, we must discuss your education.”

“I am educated enough, dog,” said Jasmine, through gritted teeth, still looking at the floor. “My father paid for the finest tutors.”

“And yet you haven’t learned to hold your tongue,” tutted Jafar. “A shame. Perhaps this will help.”

He waved his staff – and suddenly Jasmine felt something forcing her mouth open. A metal ring had appeared in her mouth – a ring gag! It was connected to a leather strap, and she felt the invisible hands of Jafar’s magic buckling the strap behind her head. In mere seconds, she was completely unable to close her mouth. She raised her hands to try and remove the hateful object – but then the force of Jafar’s magic grabbed her wrists, pinning them behind her back and thrusting her tits forward into his view.

“Mmaaa!” she complained. “Mmmaaaa maaa!”

Everyone present chuckled at her predicament – including her father, although it didn’t sound as though he truly understood what he was laughing at.

“Much better,” said Jafar. “Now, perhaps, you will listen. Tell me, princess – have you ever read the teachings of Ervin Amiri?”

She had not. She tried to say so – “Nnnaaa!” – and then settled for shaking her had back and forwards. She was aware that, unable to close her mouth, she was beginning to drool. She internally cursed herself again for the sluttish desire that had created this torment.

“Ervin Amiri wrote a treatise entitled ‘The Ideal Wife’,” said Jafar. “And I think you will find it most instructional, princess. He writes that there are five qualities that make for the ideal wife.”

Jafar gestured with his serpent staff towards the throne room wall – and fire spat from the end of the staff, and carved words into the wall, in large, ominous letters.







Jasmine did not like the sound of those words.

“Stupidity,” intoned Jafar. “A wife should not have any thoughts, opinions or knowledge but that which her husband gives her. A good wife seeks to become docile and brainless.”

He gestured to the second word.

“Obedience. A good wife does not pause to think before automatically following her husband’s orders – not even to preserve her own safety or dignity.”

“Humility. A wife is insufficient if she considers herself anything but an object that a male uses. Any shred of pride or dignity must be swept aside by means of humiliation.”

The staff angled down towards the fourth word.

“Arousal. A wife must be ready at all times to sexually service her husband. She should be aroused by anything her husband chooses to do to her, no matter how painful or degrading.”

The fifth:

“Presentation. A wife’s body must be presented so as to provide maximum amusement to her husband, even if that presentation is painful or embarrassing to the woman.”

And finally:

“Productivity. A woman exists to breed, produce milk, undertake manual labour, and provide pleasure to men. When she is not doing any of these things, she is worthless. A good wife aims to maximise her productivity.”

Jasmine tried to swear at Jafar, but just made an incomprehensible sound. A long rope of drool detached itself from her lip and splattered on the floor of the throne room. She blushed. What Jafar was describing was like an exaggerated nightmare of the thing she had always feared – becoming the objectified, submissive wife to some foreign prince.

“Now, I cannot make you love me, princess,” said Jafar. “But the rest of your mind and body are mine to play with – and my magic gives me so many, many ways to play with them. But I’ve settled on something entirely appropriate to a princess slut like yourself.”

He stood, and adjusted his robes – and suddenly his exposed cock sprang into view. It was long, and thin, and circumcised in the Muslim style. It was rock hard, and a glistening drop of white pre-cum was visible at the tip.

“Nnnaaa!” objected Jasmine. She tried to back away, but Jafar’s magic held her tight.

“I have decided there is no better tool to transform you into an obedient wife than my own sperm,” said Jafar. “Each day you will come to me, and you will lick a drop of cum from the tip of my penis, and when you taste it, you will feel one element of your identity changing towards the ideal wife I have just described.”

He walked towards her, cock bouncing with each step.

“Naammmaa!” said Jasmine, trying to turn her face away from the evil sorcerer.

“Let us see,” said Jafar. “How have you disappointed me today? In which way have you not been an ideal wife? If you do your best to answer honestly, I will ensure Rajah is kept out of your bedroom tonight.”

Jasmine thought of the large tiger stealing into her bedroom in the night – climbing onto her bed – mounting her in her sleep.

“Ooobaaadaa,” she said, quickly.

“Obedience,” repeated Jafar. “Yes, very good. You are a very disobedient wench. Let’s fix that, shall we?”

He reached down and grabbed her hair -and then pulled her face towards his cock. With no way to close her mouth, she couldn’t prevent his dick sliding into her mouth, coming to rest on her tongue – and the drop of pre-cum dripping down her throat.

She felt dizzy. It was like when the world had turned inside-out after her wish – but it was happening inside her mind.

“Obedience,” said Jafar again. “Every morning you will crave the taste of my cock. You will be desperate for your dose of my sperm, even though you know it will change you. Isn’t that right, Princess?”

She wanted to cry – because she knew that it was. Jafar’s magic had a hold on her mind

“Look at me, cow,” demanded Jafar.

She did as she was told, staring up at him with hate-filled eyes, unable to take her mouth off his cock.

“So pretty,” sighed Jafar. “So foolish.” And then he reached down with his free hand, and slapped her across the cheek – once, twice, three times. Jasmine squealed with each blow, and tried to jerk her head away, but Jafar had a tight grip on her hair, and there was nowhere to escape too. With the ring gag, she couldn’t even bite down on his cock.

“Next time you make me force you to accept my cock,” said Jafar, “I will continue slapping you until you cry. I find the sight of a crying bitch does wonders for my arousal. Do you understand?”

“Yaaaa,” said Jasmine, around her gag and around Jafar’s cock.

“Good bitch,” said Jafar – and with that, he pulled his cock out of her mouth, and tucked it back into his robes. “Now, as for the balance of your days – I have arranged for you to have work out in the town.”

Jasmine was confused – but excited. In the town? Outside the palace? That would give her a chance to escape – or at least to find Aladdin!

Jafar chuckled, as if he could read her mind. Maybe he could. “Don’t imagine I will allow you to run away, Princess. My magic can track you anywhere in the world – and so, for that matter, can your pet tiger. If you go anywhere you’re not supposed to, you had best hope it is me who finds you first.”

Jasmine shivered.

“But the Genie has pointed out to me that there are some among my subjects who object to my rule,” said Jafar. “These foolish peasants dream of a return to rule by your father – or by yourself, princess. And while I could bring them into line through fear, or through magic, the Genie has pointed out that there is a far easier option.”

Jasmine looked at the Genie, hovering behind the throne. The Genie gave her an exaggerated stage wink. She trusted the Genie – but on the other hand, if Jafar had liked the Genie’s idea, she had no doubt that she, personally, would hate it.

“We shall simply make it so that no one in Agrabah sees you as anything but a sex doll, princess,” said Jafar gleefully. “I have arranged for you to take a variety of tasks in the city, and as you make your way through them, the people of Agrabah will slowly develop an appreciation that you are nothing but an object to ejaculate into, much like a tissue or a toilet. By the time we are done, your people will be more likely to call for you to be made into a public urinal, than demand that you be placed on the throne.”

Jasmine felt sick. This was the Genie’s idea? It was terrible! The idea of sustained public sexual humiliation, day after day…

And yet, it would be out in the town. And despite what Jafar had said, Jasmine was clever. She would find a way to use these tasks to locate Aladdin, and then with his help, she would steal the lamp from Jafar, and set everything back to how it should be.

“Maaa mmaaa maaa,” she said – which was intended to be “when do I start”.

Jafar apparently understood. “Tomorrow,” he said. “I have arranged for you to wait tables at a particularly rowdy tavern near the city gates – and I have picked out something very appropriate for you to wear…”


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