Story: Jasmine’s Wish, Part 6

Chapters:
One | Two | Three | Four | Five

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Jasmine had never felt such deep, intense humiliation as she did, being led through the streets of Agrabah in her lewd outfit.  The guards had once again attached their leash to her nipples via clamps, and, compelled by Jafar’s magic, she had submissively allowed it to happen.

It was bad enough that her tits were bound and the base and exposed to public view – and that her wrists were trapped behind her back, forcing her to thrust her chest out even further.  Everywhere they walked, people stared at her.  Some of them gazed in blank confusion.  They did not recognise her, because she looked like a whore, and it simply didn’t occur to them that any woman in such slutty attire could be their royal princess.

Others, however, realised who she was.  Of these, some turned away – perhaps in disgust, or perhaps (she hoped) out of love for her and deference to her current embarrassment.  But some – and particularly men – hooted and cheered, surprised and delighted that they were seeing the princess of Agrabah led by her tits like an animal, displayed to all like a common whore.

This was what Jafar wanted, she knew – for the people of Agrabah to stop seeing her as their ruler, their saviour, their beloved princess, and instead come to understand her as a piece of dehumanised fuckmeat.

She blushed, and tried her best to look regal and dignified as she was tugged through the muddy streets by her sex-balloons.

The shame was compounded by the ever-present knowledge that she had made this happen.  She had wanted this, all of this – or thought she had.  Some part of her had *wanted* to have her tits leashed.  Some part of her had *wanted* to be paraded half-nude in front of her subjects.  This was all her fault.

On top of all that was the effect of Jafar’s obscene magical tentacles.  The tentacle-dildos inside her were deeply distracting.  

Prior to today, Jasmine had never had so much as a finger inserted in her anus.  And now there was a *tentacle* in it, attached to her crotch strap, and the tentacle was thick and slimy and actively *wiggling*.  It felt unbelievably lewd, and gave Jasmine a confusing feeling of being sexually aroused, and at the same time like she needed to use the toilet.

The one in her pussy was even more active, and it seemed to have found a particularly sensitive spot on her vaginal wall that it was – well, the only word she could think of was “licking”.  And with each lick she felt her pussy throb with need, and her knees weaken, and she was very much afraid that if it kept licking her there that she would collapse to the cobblestones and orgasm in public.

And finally there was the tentacle in her mouth, held in place by a ball gag.  It, at least, was less animated than the others, although it did pulse and stir from time to time.  Mostly it lay across her own tongue, wide and flat and muscular like a tongue, but throbbing and exuding moisture like a cock.  If she didn’t concentrate on keeping her mouth perfectly still, she would find herself unconsciously sucking on it like a lollipop.  And with each suck, she got another mouthful of liquid that tasted exactly like her own cunt juices.  It felt like she was tongue kissing someone – or sucking their cock – or licking her own cunt – right there in public, and she hated it.

After what seemed like an age, the guards finally brought Jasmine to her destination – a busy tavern, in the backstreets of Agrabah’s poorer districts, and the sign above the door advertised it – for those who could read – as “The Collared Whore”.

“Mistress Delbar,” called the guards.  “We’ve brought your bitch for you.”

An attractive buxom woman in her 40s, wearing cheap red silks, pushed her way through the mass of customers inside to reach the front door.

“Is this the ‘special package’ that Jafar promised me?” she asked.  She looked at Jasmine, and then grabbed Jasmine’s chin to tilt her face upwards.

“Âkh, it truly is the princess!” she exclaimed, and laughed.  “Not so high and mighty now, are you, your highness?”  She slapped one of Jasmine’s tits with her hand as she spoke, and Jasmine jumped, and squeaked, although the sound was muffled by her gag.

“You’re able to take custody of her?” asked the guards.

“Oh, don’t you worry,” said Mistress Delbar.  “The princess bitch and I will have a wonderful time.”  And then she slapped Jasmine’s tit again – harder.

Suddenly, Jasmine’s legs were folding beneath her, and she was sinking to the ground.  Her mouth filled with a salty taste, that she knew from tasting Jafar’s cock – the taste of cum.  And then her eyes rolled back, and she was orgasming.  She was cumming from being violated in her ass and pussy by tentacles.  As she fell, her tit leash pulled painfully on her nipples, and she didn’t care, it just made her cum harder.

What a slut she was, she thought.  What a slut she had always been, to have created this world.

“Disgusting,” spat Mistress Delbar.  “Why is she doing that?”

“The Grand Vizier arranged for her to have something special attached to her crotch strap,” said one of the guards.  “Living tentacles.”

Mistress Delbar made a face.  “That Jafar is a handsome fellow, but he does have some damn fool notions from time to time.  How is this bitch supposed to work if she’s orgasming every five minutes?  Help me get them off her.”

The guards looked uncertain.  “Jafar said…”

Mistress Delbar looked at them sternly.  “Jafar trusted *me* to humiliate the royal bitch in the way I knew best, and he doesn’t want you getting in the way of that.  And I’m telling you that I can’t do what he needs with this girl while she has *tentacles* or what have you tongueing her G-spot.”

And so, together, Mistress Delbar and the guards pried Jasmine’s legs apart, and disconnected her crotch strap.  Jasmine would have cried with relief when she felt the tentacles slide out of her pussy and anus, had she not been gagged.  And a moment later, the gag was coming out too.

“You can go now,” said Mistress Delbar.  “I’ll look after her from here.”

The guards looked dubious, but they passed Jasmine’s tit leash to Delbar, and then departed, leaving Jasmine alone in the doorway of the tavern with the older woman.

“Come with me,” said Delbar, and she led Jasmine quickly inside the tavern, past a throng of loud customers, so quickly that they barely noticed the bare-titted princess in their midst, and then into a dingy back room.

“Tell me, princess,” said Delbar, once they were there, “do you know how to pour a drink?”

Jasmine did not.  “I can learn…” she said, dubiously.

“No,” said Delbar, “you do not know how to pour a drink, or do anything else of value, because you are a spoiled royal brat, isn’t that right?”

Jasmine blushed.

“Say it,” said Delbar.  “That you’re a spoiled royal brat.”

“Please,” said Jasmine, desperately, “I don’t know what Jafar has offered you, but I can put this whole city right again.  My father is the Sultan.  When this is all fixed, we can pay you…”

Delbar slapped her across the face.

“Do you think I *want* you on the throne, bitch?” she sneered.  “Jafar is good for business.  Jafar isn’t interested in forbidding alcohol on holy days.  Jafar isn’t interested in raiding taverns just because some shady deals get made on my premises from time to time.  Jafar knows how to treat a lady right.”

Jasmine felt like she might cry.  She didn’t want to cry in front of this woman.

Delbar slapped Jamine’s tits, making Jasmine squeak.

“Say it,” she said.

“I’m a spoiled royal brat,” said Jasmine, quietly, looking down at her feet.

“That’s right,” said Delbar.  “And that means you’re practically useless, which means you are *not* pouring drinks at my bar.  You’re going to be waiting tables, do you understand?”

Jasmine flexed her wrists, which were still bound behind her back by the belt.  “I can do that,” she said.  “If you release my hands…”

“Oh, no,” said Delbar.  “No hands.  You can’t be trusted.”

She reached behind a barrel, and extracted a metal tray, with some chains trailing from it.  She walked to Jasmine and fixed one long edge of the tray to the front of Jasmine’s belt, by a kind of clip.  Then she took the chains, which trailed from the far corners, and lifted them to Jasmine’s breasts, and – CLIP – attached them to Jasmine’s nipples with strong clamps.

Jasmine squeaked again.  These hurt even more than her nipple leash had.  The tray now jutted at right angles from her belly, its weight supported by her nipples.

“Here are the rules,” said Delbar.  “When you go to a table, you introduce yourself as Princess Jasmine, and you say something degrading about yourself.  Adjective, then noun.  Do you know what adjectives and nouns are, bitch?”

“Yes,” pouted Jasmine, a little surprised that this tavern wench knew what they were.  “A descriptive word, and then a thing.”

“That’s right,” said Delbar.  “So – ‘Hello, I’m Princess Jasmine, and I’m a spoiled brat.’  Or ‘stupid cunt’.  Or ‘horny fucktoy’.  Don’t ever use the same combination twice.  Understood?”

Jasmine did not want to tell people who she was, and she definitely didn’t want to insult herself, but she did understand, and so she nodded.

“You take orders and bring them to the bar,” said Delbar.  “The barmaid will load the drinks onto your tray, and then you take them back to the table.  Simple, right?”

Jasmine realised that the heavy drinks were going to be placed on the tray that was currently hanging from her tits – and that her nipples were going to be expected to bear the weight of multiple full glasses of alcohol.  She whimpered, but nodded.

“And you do not ever, ever correct the customers,” said Delbar.  “If they call you names, you thank them.  If they disagree with you, you thank them for correcting you.  If they grope you, you let it happen.  In the event that they actually stop you doing your work, a bouncer will spot it and intervene.  It is not your job to protect yourself.  Do you understand?”

“Yes,” whispered Jasmine.

“Yes, mistress,” correct Mistress Delbar.

“Yes, mistress,” said Jasmine.

And she was sent out to do her new job.

It was vastly humiliating.  The barmaid and the other waitresses were showing a lot of cleavage, but they weren’t nude – only Jasmine.  And Jasmine realised that here, in this tavern, no one would normally have recognised her as the princess.  They didn’t expect to see the princess with her tits out, and her wet cunt exposed, with her hands behind her back, serving drinks.  When they looked at her they saw her udders, and her fuckhole.  They saw a slut.

She heard crude laughs before she’d even made it to her first table of customers, and a hand briefly slapped her bare ass as she crossed the floor.

When she made it to a round table, where four burly men sat, she found them all staring up at her, at her tits and her blushing face.

“Hello,” she heard herself say.  “I’m Princess Jasmine, and I’m a stupid cunt.  Can I take your orders?”

“Fuck, are you really the princess?” said one man, with a tattoo of a tiger on one arm.

“Yes,” said Jasmine, blushing and looking down.

“It seems like even princesses have cunts,” said another man, who had a skull tattoo on his face – and without any warning, he reached out and pushed two fingers into Jasmine’s wet fuckhole.

Jasmine’s mouth fell open in shock, and she went pale.  She was a virgin, in the technical sense.  She had never had any part of another human inside her pussy before.  And now a man whose name she didn’t even know had shoved his fingers into her twat in public.

Her urge was to jerk away from him, or slap him – but a self-preservation instinct prevented her from doing so.  Delbar had been clear that she wasn’t to defend herself.  If she disobeyed, Delbar might – what?  Jasmine didn’t know, but she had a sudden vision of being bent over this table while the men took turns raping her royal pussy from behind, while Delbar watched and laughed.

So she held still, and let the skull-faced man finger her.

“There’s a good cunt,” purred the man.

“We’d like another round of wine,” said Tiger, holding up the long, narrow carafe they’d been pouring from.  “And this empty can go back.”

The man next to him, wearing a bandanna, took the carafe from Tiger, and giggled.  “Back,” he repeated – and then he reached around behind Jasmine, and pressed the mouth of the carafe against her anus.

Jasmine squeaked again.  “Sir,” she said, “you can place the bottle on my tray.”

“No,” said Bandanna, “I can shove it up your ass. Can’t I?”

She felt a tear trickle from her left eye.  Delbar had told her not to correct the customers.

“Yes, sir,” she whispered.  “You can…” 

She choked.  She had never had *anything* in her ass before making her wish.

“I can what, bitch?” asked Bandanna.

The other men were watching and laughing . Skull-tattoo was still fingerfucking her.

“Maybe… some lubricant?” she begged.

Tiger pointed at Skull-tattoo.  “Lubricate her,” he said.

Skull-tattoo took his fingers out of her fuckhole, dripping with her fuckhoney, and smeared them along her ass crack.  He probed at her sphincter, pushing wet cunt juices into it.  Then he went back to her vagina for another load of sex-goo, and pushed that into her anus as well.

“What can we do, bitch?” asked Bandanna again.

“You can shove it up my ass, sir,” said Jasmine, in a choked voice.

And just like that, the carafe was being pushed into her anus.  She squealed in pain, despite the lubrication.  

It didn’t go in far, but its flared neck worked like a natural buttplug, with the mouth held inside her anus, and the rest of the body wiggling out of her like a tail.

“Good bitch,” said Tiger.  “Now go fetch us a new one.”

Jasmine staggered back to the bar with the carafe up her ass.  It felt so terribly wrong, to have something penetrating her there – and yet, as the motion of her walking wiggled it inside her, it was doing something strange to her.  She felt her cunt getting wetter.  She felt that if she just wiggled it enough, for long enough, that she might cum…

By the time she reached the bar, she was flushed with arousal, and humiliation – and anger.

She looked at the barmaid – a pretty girl from the Far East, with dark skin, high cheekbones, and prodigiously large breasts.  She was wearing what looked to Jasmine like a slave collar.  She felt a brief moment of solidarity with another woman who was clearly being exploited here.

“Those arrogant jackals,” she whispered.  “How dare they treat us like this?  When this world is set right, and Jafar is cast down…”

Without a word, the barmaid reached out and unhooked the chains on Jasmine’s nipples at the point where they connected to the tray.  The tray dropped to rest against Jasmine’s legs, and Jasmine gave a brief sigh of relief…

.. but then the barmaid pulled hard on the chains, and Jasmine was tugged forward by her tits, until she was bent at the waist, her tits against the hard wood of the bar.

Then the barmaid used her free hand to get out a rolling pin from beneath the bar, and, before Jasmine could react, she brought it down hard on Jasmine’s tits – one, two, three, four, five times, each blow slamming Jasmine’s tits hard against the wood.

Jasmine screamed – loud.  Her breasts had never felt such abuse.

“Mistress Delbar says if you act like a bitch, I am to treat you like a bitch,” said the barmaid, her eyes cold.  “Are you going to keep acting like a bitch?”

“No,” said Jasmine quickly.  “No.”  She didn’t ever want to feel that pain in her tits, ever again.  She wondered if they would bruise.

“Thank me,” said the barmaid.  “Thank me for beating your tits, and tell me why you deserved it.”

“Thank you for beating my tits, mistress,” whimpered Jasmine.  “I deserved it for being a bitch.”

“Good girl,” said the barmaid.  “Turn around, let me get that carafe out of you.”

Jasmine turned, and the barmaid reached over the bar and pulled the wine vessel out of her ass.  Then she signalled for Jasmine to turn back, and the barmaid reconnected her tit-chains to the tray, and then placed a new full carafe of wine on the tray. 

Jasmine winced as her nipples took the full weight of the heavy bottle.

Her day of work was only just beginning, and Jasmine was already so abused and humiliated.  How was she going to make it through?

And more importantly, how was she going to find a way to get away long enough to look for the only person who could save her from this nightmare – Aladdin?

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