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Chapter Text

Razoul nervously paced the hallway as he waited for Jafar to summon him. Jafar, once a lowly tax collector for the great Sultan, now had the power to summon Razoul, the chief of the Sultan’s exalted Royal guard.

How did such a sniveling, sweaty suck-up like Jafar rise to become so powerful?

Razoul knew his flaws. He was a bully. He was vain. He had no grace for courting women, and when he paid for their services, the bull of a man was rough and ungraceful in bedding them, even with his large, defined muscles. He kept the peace of Agrabbah’s streets, but he inspired no love, only contempt from the common people.

Razoul was a flawed man. But Razoul was loyal. His loyalty was paramount and beyond reproach. As a boy, after proving his strength one to many times against the other boys in the marketplace, he was brought into the services of the palace guards. His strength, aggression and eagerness to prove himself to the royal family allowed him to rise above all others. He had served the Sultan faithfully for many years, helping to fortify his impregnable palace and clear his streets of troublemakers. Razoul had served Princess Jasmine since she was a child. In his heart, that now beautiful woman would always be that child, whose mear smile could make the grueling hours on watch worth it, knowing that a simple soldier like Razoul was protecting such a worthy, future Queen of his land. Razoul’s orders came directly from the Sultan, and Razoul and his men would do anything it took to see those orders carried out.

But over the past few months, Jafar seemed to have a mysterious hold over his Sultan.

Razoul noticed it when he stood watch over the throne room. Jafar’s words, once bureaucratic and politically tactful, seemed to sway over the court more and more as his influence grew. The Sultan would hang on Jafar’s every word, nodding solemnly and acquiescing, his awareness seemingly slipping away. Razoul began to feel uncomfortable, and wondered why Jafar was ascending so high in the eyes of his divine master.

Days ago, Razoul witnessed something that made his heart sink. As he passed through the palace gates, he heard Jafar’s voice within. He paused for only a moment to listen, when suddenly he heard Jasmine’s husky voice, calling Jafar’s name. Like always, Jasmine was strong, confident, and unwilling to let a servant like Jafar pretend that he ran her fathers kingdom. Now that she was coming of age…in every way imaginable…the confrontations between the lengthy old Vezier and the breathtaking princess were becoming a daily occurrence.

Razoul watched as Jasmine challenged Jafar, her strong personality barely contained by her traditional, yet revealing blue gown. But Jafar was not cowed as other servants were. Nor was he bowing, pleading ignorance as he had done before when she called him out on overstepping his station. No, from the distance, Jafar seemed to be calming the princess with seductive words and, before Razoul’s eyes, slowly reached up to place his boney hands on her shoulders. The familiarity of the gesture sent a shock through Razoul. He expected her to shove him away, to break the man’s hand and summon him to her side to show Jafar, the former peasant, the price of touching the most beautiful princess in the world. She did not. She instead, merely looked up into his steely gaze… and allowed his hands to remain on her diving flesh. She walked away in the direction of Razoul.

“My Princess,” Razoul said, and bowed his head in reverence. “Are you well?”

Jasmine nodded and shook her head, as if to break a spell Jafar had woven over her. “Yes, Razoul. I am well."

"How dare he touch you like that. I shall report him to the Sultan at once." Razoul seethed, rage flooding through his veins.

Jasmine held up her hand and shook her head softly. “It's fine, dear Razoul. Everything…everything will be fine..."

Razoul heard the words, and suddenly his urge to defend Jasmine faded away, replaced by an unnerving calm. He nodded, accepting what Jasmine said, although he wasn’t sure why he believed her.

“Everything will be...fine...” he repeated, feeling the words sink into his soul.

“The Sultan...Jafar…” She shook her head again, sighing deeply, but slowly found her voice once more. “He is a powerful man. We must keep our wits about us...watch him carefully...for father.”

Razoul nodded in agreement, and Jasmine smiled. Razoul knew his duties. He would stand by her side all her life and defend her. When she married and gave birth to an heir he would guard her children. With all his muscles and strength. Through strength, courage, and loyalty, nothing would stand in the way of protecting the family who raised him to his role as military commander.

Especially not a former streetrat like Jafar. The older man could wear the finest red robes and adorn himself with whatever jewels and gold the Sultan favored him with, but the greasy vizier had better watch himself, Razoul vowed, or Jafar would really need that golden walking stick to get around.

Even so, Razoul knew that his loyalty, and his oath to the Sultan, despite the power Jafar had gained from the now pliant old ruler. So he entered Jafar's study, ready to serve since that was his duty...but ready to watch the cunning man for any signs of treachery.

Jafar's voice boomed across his vast study, "Razoul, come before me."

Razoul's heart raced as he stepped into Jafar's chambers. Jafar's eyes were dark, and hid little of the tall, skeletal man’s base desires and cruel ambitions.

"Yes, Jafar?" Razoul asked, holding his chin high.

"Desperate times call for desperate measures, Razoul.” Jafar muled, dismissing Razoul as though he were nothing more than a servant, there to serve Jafar, “I order you to observe the Princess on my behalf. I want you to keep an eye on her activities. All day. All night. I want to know what our young, independent Jasmine is doing.”

Razoul shook his head. "Are you mad? That order must come from the Sultan, Jafar. I cannot go against his wishes."

Jafar laughed, a hard sound that rumbled through the study like thunder. "Oh, you can do much more than that, Razoul. As a loyal servant, you owe me your respect and obedience." Jafar stepped closer, finally acknowledging Razoul. Razoul was all muscle. He could break Jafar in two with his meaty arms and broad chest. Yet Jafar felt no fear, hautilly commanding Razoul to commit treason. To become a spy for him against the very person Razoul admired more than anyone in this world. Razoul could feel Jafar's mesmerizing gaze. It wanted something, and Jafar hissed and snarled, confident he was going to get it.

"This is a sensitive request my guard...but our Princess must be protected and observed…by me. She is after all at the age where one strays from their Holy teachings..."

"You dare speak of the Princess in such a manner! Do you not understand that the Princess is beloved in this palace? Even the commoners worship her as a goddess, as a symbol of divine beauty and grace! She is respected and cherished and you would insult her with your nefarious requests? You go too far!"

Jafar smirks, "You are quite passionate, and I admire that about you, Razoul. Jasmine has grown into a thing of feminine beauty. Her looks, her curves…oh, and her soft skin. Whenever I get to hold her…i agree with you, Razoul. It is divine. But you cannot ignore the tides of change, however. I have been granted control in the palace, and my orders are to be followed, whether you like them or not."

Razoul did his best to go on the attack, "You hold no power here. The Sultan is the one who controls this palace. His guards are sworn to serve him, even unto death! You know our laws. Spying and betraying the Princess is just as punishable as a crime against the Sultan himself!"

"My my, and you Razoul, you would end my life? Your loyalty and dedication to your King and Princess must be strong to make such a bold statement." Jafar leans in close. He’s in the presence of Razoul's strength. His rage. And Jafar knew that it belonged to him, "Perhaps, if doing your duty to me, your master is not enough, we can come to a different understanding, one more . . . pleasurable."

"Enough!" Razoul replied, but his face reddened with embarrassment, and he found himself unable to look away from Jafar's hypnotic gaze.

Jafar smiled widely. Another victim. Another thing to claim, "Now now, that's no way to talk to someone with such power. I may not have been born into the station men like you feel beholden to, but I believe I have something much more valuable - the power to draw you in- to make you forget…to make you yield to your true superiors…your true…master…"

Razoul felt his heart pounding. He wanted to lash out again, to end this, to protect his beloved Princess. The ugly, but well built guard swallowed hard, feeling a strange heat stirring inside him. Still, Razoul was there to defend his Sultan, and his Sultan's laws, "I would never disobey my Sultan’s commands," he said finally, "and anyone, even a Vizier who betrays them will feel my steel."

Jafar laughed again, and stepped even closer to Razoul so that he could feel the smothering heat of Razoul’s skin, a reminder of the overwhelming power he held over the palace, and over Razoul.

"You are a brave man, Razoul. I admire that." He reached out a languid hand and ran it down Razoul’s arm, and Razoul felt a tantalizing tingling sensation in its wake. No man had ever aroused the guard before. But Jafar, somehow, made his skin pulse with a need Razoul never knew he had.

Razoul nodded slowly. "Never...no matter how high you rise, I'll never break my faith with the Sultan, or our beloved Princess...you old, fucking, streetrat. ”

Jafar's cruel lips curled into a sneer. He wrapped his hand around the handle of his gold staff and Razoul felt a chill race down his spine.

"We shall see," Jafar purred as he stepped around Razoul, holding the Cobra staff before the brute. Jafar was behind Razoul now, feeling the tense but unmoving muscles of his back. Seeing every toned muscle…every delicious glute Razoul had bulked up for his service to the palace, it all yielded to Jafar as the red gleam within the Cobra took Razoul’s mind. Jafar began to whisper right into his ear, "You'll do as you're told, Razoul - no matter how much you loathe me. I'm sure you understand why it must be this way."

Razoul found his sword. But Jafar’s weapons held more power over the bulky man of duty. It was all over now.

Razoul's massive body quivered, his hands shaking as he tried to resist Jafar's hypnotic commands, feeling the tall man behind him so close and in total control.

"What is this?," Jafar asked mockingly. "The mighty Razoul trembling before my staff?"

Razoul's mouth gaped open as he spoke. "Please! Don't make me do this again! I am loyal to the Sultan and to Princess Jasmine. I beg you to let me go...let me serve them…let me be loyal"

“Don’t worry…everything will be fine…”

Hearing Jafar’s words, seeing the red of Jafar's staff, Razoul nodded mutely. Though Razoul knew deep in his soul that his loyalty to the Sultan would never falter, he couldn't deny the strange, almost uncontrollable desire that had taken over him - the desire to obey Jafar.

Nights of confusion and obedience returned to Razoul’s mind at that moment. This was not the first time Jafar had shown him the red…shown him his true power. And like every time before, Razoul yielded to Jafar’s words. Jafar told him that everything would be fine…and Razoul’s mind knew this to now be law.

Jafar moved closer, his hands gathering the fabric of Razoul's robes. Jafar began to caress Razoul's bare skin, Razoul felt himself begin to tremble in anticipation of what was to come.

"Tell me, Razoul," Jafar murmured in a sultry voice, "how often do you…indulge in your fantasies…do you give into your base desires?"

Razoul's mouth dried, "Rarely," Razoul gasped, feeling himself succumbing to Jafar's wicked charm.

Jafar chuckled darkly, his hands sliding down, confidently finding Razoul's backside, getting no resistance from the stronger man. With a gentle squeeze, Jafar began to stroke and tease Razoul, as his entrancing voice spoke of his past.

"Such a brave, honorable man, so focused on your duties to our beloved Sultan, rather than your own…ambitions." Jafar said. His hand moved onto Razoul's shoulder, then snaked its way down as low as Jafar wanted his hands to go, teasing at the flesh underneath Razoul’s robes. "Do you ever dream of being Sultan?"

Razoul shook his head no.

"Do you ever dream of...pleasing your Sultan? Him and his delicious little Princess you've served all your life?" Jafar's voice became more intense, and Razoul felt himself grow more aroused.

His fantasies began to play out in his mind—He had fantasized about bowing before the throne, watching his Sultan take his pleasure. He had once dreamed of the princess, of being invited to pleasure her body too beautiful for his lust to contain. He yearned to serve, and in his sexual mind, that service could go deeper than his waking actions ever could.

Razoul trembled, aching for Jafar to do more than just caress his skin. Jafar smiled, sensing Razoul's desires. Jafar wanted his hypnotized thrall to fully feel his presence.

"One day, Razoul," Jafar said solemnly, "I will be the Sultan."

Razoul felt himself drawn in, wanting to believe that this remarkable man could one day take his place on the throne.

"In this palace, even now, my staff is slowly working its way through their minds, making sure everyone knows who the one true Sultan is...even his whining princess will soon know who she must bow…and serve."

Razoul felt himself drawn deeper and deeper.

"I am a master seducer. All my life, I have used my natural charm and my knowledge of the art of pleasure to gain the obeisance and loyalty of others. I had taken slaves of every variety, men and women alike as a way to build my power base, and every single one was brought to his knees in service to me.

He softly caressed Razoul’s strong back and shoulders. Razoul could not suppress his moan and Jafar’s laughter filled the air. From then on, it did not take Jafar much effort to have Razoul begging for more. The pressure of Jafar’s control was more than Razoul was used to.

"You, with your beautiful dark eyes, your broad shoulders, your powerful thighs, and my favorite, your most exquisite, mule-like ass. You are the perfect tool to take my power and authority to the next level. I want all to look at me and desire my touch, the touch of the one true Sultan.”

Jafar paid special attention to Razoul’s backside. It was so big and thick…so eager to be grabbed by his betters. It was now that Jafar changed his game. With his fingernails,he ran them down Razoul’s neck all along his backside and finally came around to fondle and cup Razoul’s round ass. Razoul nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Let my fingers stroke your body, giving you pleasure. Feel your body heat up and your desire grows for your master. Open your devotion to my touch and my words, and desire me like you've never desired anyone before. Your loyalty to the Sultan will be transferred to me…desire to be loyal to me one thousand fold with each stroke of my hand on your unworthy skin."
It was an explosion. Razoul’s strength was yielding to Jafar’s powers. Jafar mandaneling his body, owning his ass with his hand…it was enough to make Jafar’s wish come true.

"Ah, Razoul, you wonder how I have become the second most powerful man in Agrabah?" Jafar said, a wicked smirk gracing his features as he leaned in closer.

Razoul shifted uncomfortably, trying to take the pleasure Jafar so easily forced onto him.

"It was not by happenstance - no, it took hard work and cunning," Jafar continued, his voice taking on a softer, seductive tone. "I discovered a secret: that giving pleasure to men made them willing to do anything I pleased. Whenever I wanted a man to bow to my will, I sought to pleasure him first. Most men grow addicted to pleasure. They became addicted to what I do to them…and they slowly become addicted to me. They need to give me more. They gave me their wealth, their standing…all so their master, Jafar, would keep pleasing their cocks and making them my whore.”

Jafar brought the staff closer to Razoul’s eyes, a predatory gleam in his eye. "I make them forget all else, make them feel only my pleasure,” he growled. “And I take all I want from them, without them even realizing it." He swept one finger down to Razoul's lips and grinned.

"It’s true that now I seduce them with my snake staff," he continued. "Every time I summoned the staff forth, they became entranced and enthralled. I became their master, their god, and they would do whatever I bid.”

Razoul could not deny the intensity of Jafar's power as it seemed to seep into his bones. He felt captivated, enchanted, and aroused.

“But what really sealed the deal was when I became the sex slave of a powerful sorcerer,” Jafar said, his voice dripping with blackmail. “By the end of it, he was begging me to take his power, devotion, and loyalty. All those nights of carnal debauchery yielded the sweetest victory of all." His nostrils flared with pride. "Instead of him taking control, he begged me to own him. What began with me worshiping him in ways he never experienced, ended with him begging to be taken by me each night. To give me lessons, training…power…all so that his slave would fuck him like the master he knew I was to become. To prove my power over him, he created my mesmerizing staff. It took skill, seduction, and a deep understanding of power. That is how I became the second most powerful man in Agrabah...I simply needed to find work in the palace, and my natural, superior will to dominate others rose me until I was in the presence, and eye-line, of our fat, inept ruler.”

Jafar's words had lulled Razoul into a state of trance. His eyes were locked on Jafar's and all sense of will had dissolved. All there was left to do was to obey.

“They become my disciples, devoted to me in a way they can't even control. They will do anything for me. Anything I desire. Anything I demand,” Jafar said. He ran one finger over Razoul's collarbone, a promise for later.

“They come to adore me, to need me, and in that, I take the most powerful form of magic from them. Their loyalty.”

Razoul felt like he wanted to be the same for Jafar, to make himself belong to the powerful man…his powerful sultan. He tried to fight back, he really did, but Jafar could see it in his eyes.

“My greatest truth, Razoul," Jafar whispered. "The power of pleasure can make even the most powerful man bend."

The electricity between them was palpable. It was the kind of sorcery that made Jafar unbeatable.

"The Sultan himself has fallen under my raptures. Though he does not know it, I have been bending him and using the staff to make him slowly follow my commands.It's almost too easy now," Jafar said. His gaze wandered over Razoul's body, and his expression darkened. " I just take my staff to the Sultan's private rooms, use my powers, and he gives me a tiny piece of his vast kingdom. I want it piece by piece. Starting small is how I ensure my victory…my conquest. Soon he will be on his knees, begging for me to run his kingdom...to fulfill his desires so he can run around, playing with his little toys."

Jafar's lips curled wickedly as he continued. "He is no longer the master you serve when he's hypnotized. No matter how many times I do it, he falls under my spell. I've risen above all, above you, just by whispering into the fool's ears. Soon his power, his loyalty, and of course his body will all be completely at my disposal."

"He’s addicted," Jafar murmured, getting off on what was to come, knowing that the Sultan’s most loyal servant was now nothing but a mindless whore for him now, "Once he's had a taste of the pleasure I offer, he can't get enough. He'll do anything to get more."

Razoul swallowed, feeling the full force of Jafar's presence and the intoxicating power he wielded over his kind and giving master. Jafar's hands moved lower, taking what they wanted.

"Soon, your foolish, plump and royal master will give himself to me in servitude," Jafar bragged, loving that Razoul had no resistance left to give. "Every night, after he's been used by me and my servants, he will yield his will and devotion to the true Sultan of Agrabbah, like a gift… just for me."

Razoul felt a wave of heat pass through him, and knew he was in too deep. Jafar's power was undeniable. He knew he must flee, to protect his liege lord, but he couldn't resist the temptation…

"And now, my burly servant, I must have a plan in place. Through my control of her father, I have begun to tutor Princess Jasmine. Soon, the desert flower will be mine, but I need you to monitor her once we finish, to report back to me on my progress. For if I am to make the princess mine, I must slowly put her servitude into her mind. She’s not as weak as you, or the flat blob of a Sultan. No, Jasmine will take time. She is worth the time. Her sweet, little pussycat will yield to me, in every way I wish…"

Razoul, through a powerful force, shook off the hypnotic spell, turning away from Jafar. Hearing the planned defilement of the girl he once played with and protected into maidenhood gave Razoul the power to fight back.. All his life Razoul had served his Master with loyalty, ever faithful to his beloved Sultan. And the princess, in a small way, was like a daughter to him. He could not betray that trust. The thought of his beautiful Princess, and the boney Jafar sinking his claws into her made Razoul's blood boil.

Jafar saw his defiance and smiled knowingly, amused by this show of strength. He moved closer, towering over Razoul and spoke, his voice a deep purr that seemed to reverberate through Razoul's entire being.

"Ah, there is still some Razoul left in there" Jafar said, slowly undressing Razoul with his heated stare. "Good, I want you to betray her on your own accord. You will agree to serve me, because you know the truth. The truth is that nothing in this world…no lover…no princess will be able to fulfill your desires…the way I can."

He stepped even closer, raising his hands onto Razoul's shoulders. He didn’t want to use the staff now. His dark, red eyes held Razoul still as he continued. "Let me show you Razoul, let me help you surrender...," he said in a husky voice, seductive and inviting.

Jafar reached down and lightly spanked Razoul's ass, the sensation was painful, and debased the proud guard in ways that confused and tortured his half enslaved mind. "That's it Razoul, feel it," Jafar said.

Spank.

Razoul gasped, the pleasure unlike anything he had ever experienced before…being ‘punished’ by his master, Jafar. He felt his resolve crumbling as Jafar continued to drive him deeper into a trance while taking his ass with as much force as the evil man wanted.

"Yield, Razoul," Jafar hissed in his ear. "Give in to the better man. The more powerful man."

Spank.

The sensations coursed through Razoul, almost unbearable but yet the only thing that he could think of. He felt like he was floating, his body shaking with pleasure. His loyalty to the Sultan was replaced with loyalty to Jafar, and he knew he would do anything the powerful man wanted.

Spank.

Razoul let out a soft moan, and nodded in surrender. "Yes, Jafar," he gasped. "I will spy on Princess Jasmine for you. Whatever you desire, I will do."

Razoul was not even conscious of his betrayal. So powerful was Jafar’s dominance, that he seemed to yield without thought.

Spank.

"That's right Razoul," Jafar purred. "You will obey me. When the time is right, you will give in to my will completely."

Razoul felt his body shudder with pleasure, and he nodded once more.
Spank.

"Yes, Jafar," he whispered. "I will obey."

Jafar said softly “I could make you feel more pleasure than you have ever dreamed. You wish to be mine, don't you, my beefy, loyal Razoul?”

Razoul’s mind was too muddled to think straight. His body was on fire from Jafar’s masterful spakings and the intensity of Jafar’s gaze was consuming him. He wanted nothing more than to obey Jafar’s every whim and desire. So before Razoul could think twice, he finally let out his devotion…his eternal devotion, “Yes...yours Jafar...”

"You want to please me, don't you, Razoul?" Jafar said, his voice deep and mesmerizing.

"Yes…Jafar…Please Jafar," Razoul replied.

"Kneel, my pet. I am your lord and master now."

Razoul complied, lowering himself down to one knee and resting his head against the floor in servitude. Razoul was filled with dread as he presented himself below Jafar. Today he would betray his Princess. Tomorrow his Sultan. He could already feel his master's desires. If he was so susceptible to Jafar’s powers, he realized that his new master would successfully take control of the city’s military forces. They would kill for him, usurp the throne for him if that was what Jafar wanted.

“Good boy. Now, let's see how loyal you really are. From now on, you will only take orders from me. Do you understand?”

Razoul thought about arguing back one last time, but something in the way Jafar grabbed his staff, the way his cold eyes seemed to mesmerize Razoul, kept him from uttering another word. All of Razoul’s loyalty and obedience flowed towards Jafar as if he was a raging river.

Whose orders did Razoul now obey? Who commanded the devout loyalty of Agrabah’s Captain of the guard?

Razoul’s breathing became labored and heavy as he felt his body respond in a way he was not familiar with. He was aroused by the way Jafar was controlling him, by the way Jafar commanded him to obey standing above him, like a god among men.

As Jafar’s staff moved further and further down Razoul’s body, he could no longer resist. He felt as if all of his orders now come from Jafar and no one else.

Atop his prey, Jafar reached Razoul’s big, beefy behind again and teased the plump globes of flesh with the tip of his staff. Jafar knew that Razoul needed to admit to obeying Jafar’s orders, out loud, to externalize the submission coursing through Razoul subconscious mind. He also knew exactly what his new slut would do though.

Though he tried to hold onto his loyalty, his honor, Razoul felt himself becoming harder and harder, wanting more and more. With one final thrust of the staff, Jafar sent Razoul over the edge and the guardsmen could no longer take it.

“Orders…” Razoul began to moan, “Master’s orders…”

Jafar was finished now. He was too powerful to resist, and no longer felt like playing, "I know you, my slave. I know that you are holding onto hope. I know that you hate yourself for betraying your liege lord and his slut of a daughter, that no matter how desperately you want to save your beloved princess from becoming my prize…you know, in your soul that is now mine…who’s orders you truly follow now..."

Razoul was broken. Kneeling before the evil that was Jafar, the man that entered his mind and took what he wanted…Razoul could never fight this feeling of yearning. This feeling of submission to the power of the man above him.

Jafar knew he won.

"You must scream 'my orders come from Jafar' when you cum, and only then will I allow you the pleasure you desire."

Razoul closed his eyes and surrendered. Pleasure overtook him

Jafar had won.

"My orders come from Jafar!" Razoul screamed. It was a scream deep from his mesmerized soul. He had given Jafar everything, for nothing, eternally. Jafar had broken Razoul's once-powerful will. Now, it was his to do with as he pleased…like a true Sultan.

Razoul trembled below his master, feeling the mixture of shame and excitement only Jafar could create. He yearned for his master to own him. It felt good waiting for his next order. His master would tell him what to do. His master was the only one who now ever could tell him what to do.

His cock had been conquered. Screaming his devotion to his master filled Razoul’s meaty shaft with such longing…but it like him only obeyed Jafar’s orders now.

“You have done well, my loyal, lowly servant,” Jafar said, a smirk of satisfaction on his face. “Now, as a reward for your loyalty, you shall receive something that you have been wanting for a very long time.”

Razoul felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment as Jafar waved his staff and pointed it at Razoul’s face. Then, the evil sorcerer undid his robes, knowing there was no resistance left. Razoul realized what was about to happen but made no move to stop it.

After all, his orders now came from Jafar. He needed to serve his master. He yearned to serve his master.

Jafar slowly moved his big, powerful scepter closer to Razoul’s face, his eyes red with pleasure.

“Open your mouth wide, my cock is so big, I order you to pleasure it all, slave.”

Razoul felt a wave of revulsion wash over him, and yet…

His orders came from Jafar. Jafar had made his orders clear despite the degradation and humiliation in becoming a cocksucker for his master..

He hated how much he enjoyed submitting to Jafar.

He knelt low, unaware how low he was sinking for his master, and took his cock in his mouth, his body showing no resistance, not daring to look up. The moment Jafar’s tip touched Razoul’s lips, he felt a wave of pleasure wash over him. His body was now conditioned to enjoy the feeling of Jafar’s cock as it claimed his mouth and he felt himself begin to relax and accept the painful invasion…slowly taking joy in knowing that he obeyed Jafar’s orders like a trained animal.

Jafar chuckled as he watched Razoul’s body move and writhe in pleasure as he pleasured him. “Ah, my slave,” he said in a low voice. “You are now a slave to my will. The Sultan, Princess Jasmine, and all of Agrabah are now mine. You are just a mere puppet in my grasp, and soon I shall be the supreme ruler.”

Razoul gagged. Jafar’s cock was just so big, and it forced its way down Razoul’s willing, but inexperienced throat.

Jafar chuckled, watching his sex-slave suffer, unable to take all of his manhood, yet unwilling to back away from Jafar’s orders.He then forced Razoul's face deeper down his rod. It was so big, he loved knowing that the strong, powerful Razoul could barely fit his divine cock in his throat.

"Go on, Razoul," Jafar said, as he began to thrust his hips, enjoying every gag and grunt the hypnotized submissive made for him. "Show me your loyalty and obedience. Soon they will all praise me as the Sultan, Jafar, and know my true power."

Jafar began to thrust his hips. Knowing the man was unbound, but trapped beneath the power of his cock was leading to Jafar’s reward. He cackled!

"Feel my cock, Razoul. My cock is massive and powerful, like a king's scepter. Its head is large and passionate, like the sun! Its length is grand and majestic, like a mountain! And its girth is filled with sensual pleasure, like an oasis!"

Razoul groaned with pleasure as he took every inch of Jafar's impressive size into his mouth. He moved slowly, savoring the taste and feeling of Jafar's thick member. His tongue was quick and nimble as he worked his way around it, licking every inch of it from base to tip.

"Oh, yes," Jafar groaned. "You are a good slave, Razoul. Submit completely to me and you shall be lavishly rewarded with more of your master's meat."

His orders came from Jafar. If Jafar said he wanted more…Razoul prepared himself for more…for needing more of Jafar’s powerful cock. For being nothing more than Sultan Jafar’s cock-sleave.

"Good boy," Jafar said, as his hips moved faster in response to Razoul's skillful ministrations. He moaned in pleasure as his orgasm drew closer and closer.

"Just imagine," he said, "the beautiful Princess Jasmine, her succulent curves, her perfect body, all mine to do with as I please. She is now a sexy young woman, and soon she will be my fuck slave and nothing more."

Razoul felt a surge of hatred as Jafar spoke, but he knew there was nothing he could do. He was now a slave to the evil Sultan, and he would remain so until Jafar decided otherwise.
Jafar moaned with pleasure as Razoul suckled him ferociously, pushing him closer and closer to the edge.

"Yes," Jafar moaned. "Yes! You are pleasing your master so well. Soon, it will be Princess Jasmine beneath me, her face filled with the same submission and pleasure you are showing your sultan now. I will ravish her body every night, and she will beg for more."

Razoul kept working Jafar's shaft, his movements growing increasingly frenzied as Jafar's orgasm drew ever closer.

"Make me come!" Jafar said, his voice strained with pleasure. "Make me come as I imagine taking every inch of Jasmine's body!"

Razoul obliged, working Jafar's cock faster and harder until he started to tremble with pleasure.

Razoul felt himself quiver at the thought, knowing he could do nothing to save the princess from her fate. With a sharp cry, Jafar reached his peak, his whole body shaking with powerful pleasure.

His words echoed in Razoul's ears, and his own orgasm quickly followed, his cum spilling onto his stomach.

Razoul tasted the pleasure of Jafar's immense power, and now he was consumed by his desire to experience it again. He still, deep in his subconscious, loathed the Sultan Jafar for seeking to enslave Princess Jasmine, but part of him now yearned to become even more of a slave to his sickeningly powerful master.

"Now," Jafar said, "you may rise, Razoul. You have done your duty to me, and for that I thank you."

With that, he waved his staff and Razoul slowly rose to his feet. Jafar gave him one final smirk before turning away and walking away, still cackling to himself.

Razoul watched him go, a cold shiver running down his spine. He had been a powerful man once, but now he was nothing more than a toy in Jafar's hands - a puppet in his grip.

"And Razoul. . . " Jafar said, turning back to him. "On your rounds today, I order you to go into the Princess's chambers...I want you to grab one of her gowns for me. If you are going to have the honor of pleasing my cock, you may as well be dressed like a whore."

Razoul felt his heart sink, his humiliation complete. He had gone from being a loyal servant to a puppet in Jafar's grasp. As he tried to resist, His true nature now rang in his ears.

My orders come from Jafar.

And it was enough to send Razoul away, wondering which of Jasmine’s beautiful dresses would tempt his master most.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

It was morning, and Princess Jasmine was gone from the palace.

The Sultan knew he should have been out looking for his daughter, Jasmine, who had gone missing from the palace, but when he found his vizier to tell him of this new crisis, he learned just how deep Jafar’s power now extended.

"Jafar! Jasmine is missing!" Jafar glanced at his master, in curiosity,

"Indeed…your highness."

The Sultan huffed out "She left the palace sometime in the evening. There is no sign of her in the palace. You must marshal all of my forces to find her."

"I see..." Jafar sensed the Sultan's anger and fear. For all the plump older man’s failings, his love for his daughter was above question. For his plans, his ambitions, nothing was more dangerous than the connection between a daughter and her father. If they chose themselves over him and his powers, it could be over before Jafar even began.

With the Princess fleeing the palace walls, unwilling to do her duties and choose a successor for her father and her kingdom…the ruthless and vile man knew an opportunity when it presented itself. Let the Sultan mule about his daughter…let him learn whose wants truly matter to the most powerful man in Agrabah.

“Please, Jafar! I am her father. There is nothing on this earth I love more than my daughter. We must act now!”

Jafar clamped his hands before the older man. A beautiful, almost mystical blue diamond was gleaming on Jafar’s hand. Only yesterday, after months and months of slow hypnotic conditioning would Jafar risk asking for it. He knew the Sultan would resist parting with the rarest of his treasures. But he did, and the Sultan was so willing to obey Jafar…so eager to obey…

"Your highness, I have always been your most faithful servant. You know that I will find her and make sure she is safe, but…I need you to do something for me first. Your mind is heavy with worry, but I, Jafar, will make it easier."

He pulled out his staff from the folds of his rich robes. The staff was long and golden, ornamented with a huge, golden cobra that always found its prey. He twirled it a few times in his hands. In a single stroke, he placed it before the Sultan, as he had done countless times before..

He brought the staff down, and the room seemed to hum with energy. Red energy. He ushered up a language of hypnotic suggestion, a language no one in the palace had ever heard before, yet which all of them could understand and obey.

The Sultan felt his gaze drawn to Jafar’s staff, captivated by the mysterious red swirls and patterns that danced and moved before his eyes. He could feel power radiating from the staff, luring him into a trance-like state...a state he had unknowingly been in before...one where he was virtually powerless to resist Jafar’s commands.

"My dear Sultan, I see the turmoil inside you. You want to go out, search for your daughter, protect her from all harm. But let me show you a better way...a way for you not to worry...to know that…everything will be fine..."

"Everything will be...fine..." The Sultan echoed, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes," Jafar said, his voice soft and soothing. "You have a choice to make. You can go out with your guards and search for your defiant, complicated daughter, or you can listen to Jafar. It's your choice, my dear Sultan. Choose wisely...choose to listen to me. Do what I ask of you….serve me. Enter into a trance...give into your desires...give into my power." The Sultan felt a warmth spreading throughout his body, and he felt himself succumbing to Jafar's powerful suggestion. He had no choice but to choose what Jafar desired of him, even with his love for his daughter screaming in his mind to flea.

"Very well," he said, his voice far away. "But...but Jasmine...?"

"Fear not, my dear Sultan," Jafar said with a smile, "Jasmine, your willful daughter, the cause of your unhappiness, is no longer your first concern. I will take care of her. Just do as Jafar, your loyal servant...and powerful master...commands."

The Sultan had long felt a strange pull towards Jafar, a powerful force that seemed to have a will of its own. Each time he found himself reluctantly complying with Jafar's requests, surrendering pieces of himself, feeling an increasingly stronger urge to satisfy Jafar's orders. He vaguely remembered giving Jafar his priceless blue diamond ring when they spoke yesterday, watching in confusion as Jafar had accepted it before turning away, telling the Sultan to 'Run along, and play with your little toys.'

The Sultan felt a sense of deep dread and despair creep up on him, as if he knew that he would comply with whatever Jafar demanded. He felt powerless against the relentless tug of Jafar's influence, knowing that he had been slowly surrendering more and more of his power to Jafar with each exchange. He wondered why he couldn't resist Jafar's requests, feeling a dark sense of inevitability as Jafar towered above him, showing no urgency in bringing the Princess back home.

"Choose," Jafar said, his voice soft and soothing, "Choose between looking for your daughter or doing something…special for me." The Sultan felt his body temperature rising and his heart beating faster as he silently wavered between the two.

Jafar felt an immense sense of satisfaction as he watched the Sultan succumb to his will through hypnosis. His staff twirled around with a mesmerizing rhythm, and with each swing the Sultan’s resistance melted away.

"Choose to give me pleasure," Jafar said, and the Sultan found himself powerless to resist. Jafar’s words put the old man in his place, and wordlessly Jafar commanded him to kneel before him. With a wave of his staff he transformed the Sultan's thoughts into deep need…deep arousal. The Sultan could not deny what his body was telling him, and with a deep moan he loosened the belt of the robes before him and moved his small hands towards Jafar…to expose Jafar’s power.

The sight of his master’s supplication was enough to make Jafar's own desires flare up, but he kept his composure. With a sly smirk on his face, he twirled his staff once more.

"My dear Sultan, you hide behind a facade of power and might. But in truth, deep within your soul lies an itching desire to be taken, to be used. To become an object…a toy…to be manipulated at someone else's will. To satisfy the inner darkness that lies within.”

The Sultan listened to Jafar’s words, and he knew that Jafar was right. Jafar was always right.

“At your decree, your subjects must bow to your will, yet behind closed doors you are discontent, and dabble in playthings to fulfill a secret longing. To be consumed, and to be owned. “

He had no choice; he was powerless against the magical force that held him in its thrall. His only course of action was to comply. His heart raced and his breathing deepened. As the Sultan realized what a freeing sensation it was to surrender himself to Jafar, he grew more aroused.

“The truth is, Sultan, you want to be a toy for someone else. For someone to take charge of, to command, and to shape to his desires. You want to be a puppet in the hands of a master, to become completely enthralled in the pleasure and the power. To know that someone else is in control.”

To touch the Sultan was to be put to death. Jafar grabbed the old man’s chin and possessed his hairy face. He was so deeply under Jafar’s control…and Jafar wanted the old man debased by his new master for now and all time.

“And I, my Sultan, I am that person. I am the one who will own you. Who will make you an instrument of his will; who will lead your darkest passions into a more fulfilling existence as nothing more than my toy.”

Jafar’s large cock soon entered his view, and the Sultan felt an overwhelming desire to please him. He opened his mouth, ready to accept his master’s offering. With a steady breath, he settled himself into his newfound role, and his lips went to give joy...to serve the powerful manhood that ensorceled him.

"Be my toy. Give me pleasure," Jafar commanded, and the Sultan felt the vibration of his master’s voice.

"Give…give…," The Sultan murmured with an enticing moan, accepting his role. He could feel himself growing more aroused and submissive by the second, knowing that he was the center of his master’s attention...that the Sultan of Agrabbah was about to be played with...

The Sultan, now Jafar’s little, wind up toy, supplicantly on his knees before Jafar, and without hesitation, took Jafar's cock in his mouth. The Sultan felt a wave of pleasure wash over him as he began to suck, no thoughts other than obeying Jafar’s massive cock, his body moving in a steady rhythm as he serviced Jafar.

"Ahh, my sweet Sultan. You are so eager to please me, aren't you? Suck harder, I want to feel your lips around me. You know this is what you want, to obey my every command."

A good toy. He was a good, sweet toy for Jafar. That was all the Sultan’s mind could hold now.

"Yes, you are. You're becoming more devoted with each passing moment. Keep going, I want to feel your mouth around my cock. Show me your loyalty, show me your devotion. Choose to submit to me; to surrender your will to me, and I shall grant you the wishes of your innermost desires. Let my commands enslave you, make you into the toy you've always wanted to be. For I will make sure that your secret longings are fulfilled. All that you need to do is surrender to me.”"

Jafar felt a sense of triumph swell within him as he watched the Sultan kneel before him, gagging on his monstrously big cock. It was a confirmation that his power had grown exponentially, and he could not help but take a moment to savor it.

"Ah, yes, my Sultan. Make your master feel so good. You know that I am the only one you can trust. You can feel it, can’t you? You don't need to look for that pathetic little Jasmine. All you need is me. I am all you will ever need. More than anything in this world, you want my cock. That’s right, isn’t it? You crave it, don’t you?

The sight of the Sultan kneeling before him, willingly offering up his body to prove his obedience, made Jafar feel a deep sense of satisfaction. He felt a thrill of power course through him, knowing he had come so far in such a short amount of time. His small victories such as the Sultan's newfound respect for him, the newfound respect and obedience of the guards, and finally his Sultan's submission to him all served as proof that his hypnotic domination would soon be absolute. He had reduced the mighty ruler to a mere servant, a cock-slave, and he relished every second of it. He knew that for now, he could only steal these moments. In public, Jafar must still act the sniveling, groveling servant to the royal family, and it would take far more work to get the public praise and devotion Jafar knew he was worthy of. Jafar glared down at the Sultan, now shoving his cock down his devoted throat, and he was determined to make the Sultan pay for every moment of servitude, when he somehow, publicly declared Jafar the new Sultan of Agrabbah.

"Yes, that's it, old man. You have to do just as I say and serve me. You can't deny my power, and you can't deny the pleasure you feel. Suck my cock harder and deeper, show me your submission and obedience. You want my big, powerful cock more than you want to save that whore of a daughter. You'll only get her back through me and my power. So keep going, give me pleasure, and I may just let her back in the palace."

For what felt like hours, the Sultan serviced Jafar, no thought of Jasmine able to enter his conquered mind. The Sultan could only think about how nice it was to play with Jafar’s shaft. To gag on it, to lose all control.

But Jafar, the sadistic man he was, has Jasmine firmly on his mind. They were in a war for influence over the palace and the Sultan, and he loved beating her, and here was her father, choosing to debase himself rather than search for his daughter. But her beauty had taken Jafar’s will long before he took the Sultan’s. Jasmine was the ultimate prize. She was sexy, willful and forbidden. He would conquer her beauty soon, but would take his royal pleasure from his supposed ‘master’ while the pieces of his plan slowly fell into motion.

"You know that soon, both you and your daughter will be serving me...as I sit on my throne...and you will do whatever I ask without hesitation as I rule and take whatever I desire.”

At this, the mesmerized Sultan paused. He was hearing his worst fears come to life. As a widower, and a prudent ruler without ambition, the Sultan on some level desired this fantasy. Of being turned into the lowest of men in his kingdom…a bed warmer, a harlot and a pleasure slave. But hearing that his daughter might be turned into one as well was enough to make the Sultan pause. Still, Jafar’s large cock was taking what it wanted at this point, and the Sultan’s mind was not powerful enough yet to resist feeling its power as it conquered his eager throat.

“Ah, yes, that feels so good. Keep going. Keep going and take your Sultan's seed! Do you accept that trade, my ‘master’? Your daughter for your Sultan’s seed?!"

The Sultan's eyes widened with realization as Jafar spoke the words. He truly feared for the future of his daughter, and trembled as he serviced Jafar. Jafar took great pleasure in it, reveling in the Sultan's humiliation and the power he wielded over him.

The Sultan deeply inhaled the scent of Jafar and gave into the hypnotic power of his voice. He moved his lips and tongue against Jafar's cock passionately and eagerly, as though he was born to serve him. The sight and smell of Jafar deeply aroused him, and he gave himself wholly to the experience.

“Yes… like that,” Jafar panted, his breathing labored as his release began to flood inside the Sultan, mixing with his own. “Now, feel my power, deep and absolute.Feel it as you take my seed!"

"Yes, master’s seed…" he spoke, his voice scarcely audible.

Every thrust of his mouth against Jafar's aroused the Sultan further. His entire world revolved around serving his master and giving him pleasure. He felt every inch of Jafar's cock as he sucked and licked, his mouth and throat filled with the taste of the powerful sorcerer. With each deep thrust and each sound of satisfaction from Jafar, the Sultan felt his own arousal growing. His once logical thoughts were fading away and he felt as if he was becoming an instrument of pleasure for his master.

His body moved of its own volition as Jafar thrust, his tongue swirling around the length of his cock. Each time Jafar let out a guttural moan, the Sultan felt himself sink further into Jafar's power. He wanted nothing more than to please his master, and nothing else mattered. His loyalty became absolute.

"That's it, old man. Give it to me! I am your master, and you will obey my every command without hesitation. Your only desire is to pleasure your master, nothing else matters. You are my toy, and I will use you however I, and my big, royal cock wish." Jafar said, his voice taking on the hypnotic quality that turned a King into his personal cock-sleave.

The Sultan sucked and gagged Jafar harder and faster, desperate for Jafar's approval. The thought of his daughter, Jasmine, was now completely gone from his mind. He was a mere vessel of pleasure for his master, and he embraced his new role with enthusiasm.

As Jafar's orgasm built, the Sultan felt himself reaching a new level of submission. He felt an overwhelming need to please Jafar and do anything he asked. He moved faster and sucked harder and deeper, his body and mind completely in the thrall of Jafar's power.

Then, when Jafar had completely lost control, his wicked climax shot into the Sultan's mouth, chin, and face. His hot jizz mixed with the Sultan's saliva, sending a heatwave through their bodies. Jafar grunted and groaned with pleasure, as he rode out his orgasm, his voice low and guttural with pleasure.

Jafar grunted and shouted his pleasure as he pounded into the Sultan, his mind and body overwhelmed by the sensation of pleasure that was coursing through him. "Yes! That's it, my toy! I am your master! TAKE YOUR MASTER'S CUM!"

The Sultan felt his uncontrollable need to please Jafar pulse through his body, and with each pump from Jafar's massive cock, he felt Jafar's cum surge down his throat. He was completely in Jafar's power, and he reveled in it, desperate to feel him cum time and time again.

Jafar smiled down at him as he came down from his high, then trailed a finger lightly across the Sultan's chest with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Yes, you are mine, my slave - always remember that. Now that you have done your duty to me...run along and play with your little toys...and leave Jasmine to me."

With one final wave of his staff, the Sultan rose from his master’s feet and moved to his quarters. He would leave Jasmine's rescue entirely up to Jafar, who had already sent the guards off to search for her, on his own authority. Feeling drained, he shuffled back to his large chambers, empty for so many years as the king Sultan refused to wed or take a lover to his bed since the tragic passing of his wife. His mind was slowly clearing as he left Jafar's presence. He vaguely remembered a dream he'd had, something about being forced to do something he didn't want to... but he quickly put the thought out of his head..

When he returned to his quarters, he felt a wave of relief wash over him. He surrounded himself with all of his most beautiful royal toys, enjoying his newfound solitude. Soon, his thoughts began to turn to Jafar, his most trusted advisor, whom he had left in charge…of everything. The Sultan could not help but feel a deep sense of admiration for the man who had proved himself invaluable time and again, even in this dire situation. Slowly, his thoughts of admiration grew into praise, and his mind thanked Jafar for all he had done.

"He is a true Sultan's right hand," the Sultan muttered to himself, a slight smirk appearing on his face. He knew that with Jafar, his daughter might still be saved. He just hoped he could provide it in good time, and his focus should just be on being a good toy…

The Sultan closed his eyes, allowing his thoughts to drift. He remembered the moment when Jafar had told him to 'run along and play with your little toys.' A strange sensation welled up inside him, a warmth pulsing through his body. Suddenly, he felt himself being transported into a different plane, one where Jafar was the Sultan and he, the toy.

The Sultan felt his body heat up as he imagined being bent over Jafar's knee, his clothing being pulled off as Jafar explored every inch of his skin. His body quivered with pleasure as Jafar touched him, teasing him and filling him with desire. The Sultan felt himself come undone in Jafar's masterful hands as the sensations overwhelmed him.

The pleasure was almost too much to bear, and as he pictured Jafar above him the Sultan let out a ragged breath, his body shaking with pleasure.

The Sultan lay in his bed, as his body writhed in pleasure. With each motion, he felt as though he was inching ever closer to fulfillment, his whole being tingling with anticipation.

"Jafar, my loyal servant," he whispered, his breath coming in heated gasps, "you have proven yourself worthy time and again. I praise you, and thank you for keeping my daughter safe."

His motions intensified, and he groaned in pleasure as he felt his cock swell with pleasure.

"I am yours," he murmured, his body trembling, "your little toy, Sultan Jafar."

The Sultan groaned as he slid his hand over his groin, feeling his cock swell with pleasure as he thought of Jafar taking his kingdom. He imagined himself bowing before Jafar and feeling his powerful cock pressing against his bareback as the Sultan knelt before the new ruler of Agrabah, offering his most forbidden hole to the powerful man. The thought of being reduced to nothing but a toy under the spell and control of the dark magician sent a wave of pleasure throughout the Sultan's body. His breathing became heavy with anticipation and he could feel his cock throbbing with desire.

"Yes, Jafar, I am yours. Your captive, your plaything, your willing sultan. Make me yours, and I will surrender myself to you. Touch my body with your skilled hands, ignite my senses like flames, and make me your own. Please Jafar, I beg you, make me yours...Oh, Jafar!" The Sultan moaned in ecstasy as his passion rose to a fever-pitch. He envisioned Jafar standing before him, towering imposingly over him as his thick, long cock dangling between his legs. "Your cock, your amazing, powerful cock should be worshiped! Your cock should conquer all that stands in its way, including…including Princess Jasmine! Sultan Jafar! Sultan Jafar!"

As his hand moved quicker over his member, the Sultan began to moan with pleasure, envisioning the incredible sensation of Jafar's hard length filling him completely. His mind raced as he thought of all the possibilities, and the thought of Jafar powerful and dominant over him…of Jafar conquering him like a true king would conquer his lesser rivals.

"Yes, Jafar- mine. Yours to control, yours to subject to your every whim, yours to ravish, yours to possess. I am your plaything, my body your toy, opening myself to whatever experience you desire. I am here to be used and enjoyed in whatever way you wish. I yield to you...Ahhhhh Jafar! You are the one and only Sultan of my body, mind, and soul! Your cock is so big and powerful, I can't resist its power. I'm just a mere toy in your hands! Ahhhh, I'm shaking with pleasure as I imagine your big, mesmerizing cock conquering me entirely. You deserve to be worshiped, you deserve to conquer all with your manhood!"

The Sultan's breathing grew more ragged, as heat surged through him like a raging inferno. His muscles were tense with anticipation of the pleasure to come, as thoughts of Jafar coursed through his body. He imagined Jafar taking his body and bending it to his desires, exploring every inch of his body with his skilled hands. He relished the thought of submitting completely to Jafar, and the pleasure he could only feel in his master's arms.

"Oh, Jafar, my master," the Sultan murmured in a low, reverent voice, his body trembling with pleasure. "You can take my kingdom with a single wave of your staff, and with it me, your humble servant. I am yours now, completely and utterly devoted to meeting your every...whim. Your powerful presence fills the air, your hungry eyes devouring me as if I were your own personal toy. My naked body is yours to do with as you please...I admit and submit myself to your superior power and strength."

The Sultan gasped as his fantasy grew increasingly vivid. He imagined the scene before him – Jafar towering over him, his proud, muscular body unburdened of clothing, his erect shaft towering in wait for a woman’s body to penetrate. Yes, the Sultan knew in his heart that it was only fitting for such a powerful man to conquer his daughter, Jasmine. He trembled in anticipation as he begged his master to take her body, knowing full well that she could not escape his commanding touch.

"Take her Jafar...take me...take it all, Sultan JAFAR!!!"

The Sultan felt as though time had stopped as he felt the full force of pleasure overtake him. With a final gasp of bliss, he let the pleasure wash over him, his body quivering in delight. He had come so hard…just as he had been conditioned to do. When the last remnants of pleasure had faded, He gasped Jafar's name, feeling that was the only way to make his own little toy erupted in an explosive climax, his pleasure leaving him quivering in delight.

As the moment faded, the Sultan opened his eyes and found himself in his quarters once more. He smiled to himself, grateful for how good it felt...oddly grateful to his servant Jafar, and unwilling to confront what the fantasy might have meant.

Soon, Jafar’s hypnotic control over the Sultan would soon be absolute, and the grand vizier could not help but feel a twinge of satisfaction as he watched the Sultan retreat to his chambers, his taste and manhood transforming the once proud man into something submissive to his dark purposes.

XXX

Jafar grinned wickedly as he watched the Sultan walk away. He turned to his trusted companion Iago, and gave a triumphant chuckle.

"As you can see, Iago, I have gone far beyond what I originally planned. He’s so submissive to my wants, I couldn’t resist going further…putting that fat, old fool in his place. I now have complete control over the Sultan, alone and undisturbed, he’s mine." Jafar proclaimed, a smug smirk growing across his face.

Iago eyed Jafar, his respect and admiration evident in his expression. "Wow Jafar, I never would have guessed you had it in you! To think you've gone from an ambitious thief, to the ruler of a powerful kingdom! You amaze me, master."

Jafar laughed and nodded. "Yes, it's remarkable, isn't it? Just wait until I'm declared Sultan - then there will be no limit to the debasing things I can get away with." He added, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, and his eyes glinting with wicked delight as he imagined what was to come.

Iago gulped audibly, his gaze sliding to Jafar's growing erection. Its girth and power barely subsided, even after giving the Sultan his seed for the first time, "Do you want me to...punish him, my lord? I can fuck him up after you're done, to make him pay for eating all the crackers."

A grin spread across Jafar's face as he imagined it. He nodded his head in agreement, splaying his hands out. "Yes, do as you wish. He is my slave now, and soon I want him to feel the ultimate humiliation of yielding to me…and my lackeys."

Iago bowed low and nodded. "As you command, my lord." He said, before stepping forward and filling the room with wild and rapturous stories of Jafar's power. Iago had been given the power to speak…in the ways that Jafar wanted to hear, "You will be the most powerful man in the world, with many nubile slaves at your beck and call; Princess Jasmine included, mesmerized in devoted service to Sultan Jafar. As you take your rightful place of power, I will fuck with that former Sultan each night, driving him further into his humiliating place at your feet."

The words made Jafar's skin prickle and his cock stiffen even further. He fisted one hand, squeezing his member in a show of pure dominance, the pleasure overpowering him. His moan of pleasure echoed through the room, and he motioned for Iago to continue. "Yes, yes... Describe it for me, in vivid sensuous detail.." he commanded, barely able to contain his excitement.

Iago grinned at Jafar, his words thick with unbridled desire, "A new era where your power and authority is absolute, and you will have an eager harem of willing sultans and sultanas, ready and willing to experience the pleasure of your thick, powerful cock," Iago said, as he ran an appreciative gaze over Jafar's aroused body.

"You will be the envy of all men, to be worshiped and adored as a true sovereign, and gain the submission of even the most reluctant. Your power will be absolute, and your sexual prowess will be unmatched- all knowing they must submit to the pleasure of the great Sultan Jafar," he whispered hungrily, watching as Jafar grew harder and wilder with each word.

The way Iago spoke so seductively made all of Jafar's desires flare to life, and soon he was on the brink. Swollen with pleasure, Jafar's eyes widened as he felt himself spiral into complete arousal. He moaned out his pleasure, his body tense with anticipation. "Yes," he breathed heavily, licking his lips, "Yes, I will become the greatest King of Arabia and all must bow before my desires."

"Your will be done, my lord," Iago said, his own desire overcome him. He stepped closer, body pulsating with need, and whispered into Jafar's ear, "And your sexual prowess will make you a true god among men. No one will be able to resist your charm and passion, and even the most reluctant and stubborn of women will finally submit."

"More, Iago! Get me some more, let me feast on the fantasy," Jafar commanded, completely captivated by the idea of a world where everyone submitted to his dark desires. Iago smiled and spun story after story of Jafar as conqueror, seducer, ruler, and pleasure giver, just as his master had trained him to do. Jafar moaned and groaned with ecstasy as his lust grew deeper and deeper, fired up by Iago's words.

"You will be the Sultan of Agrabah, the master of pleasure and passion," Iago said, as he watched his master give himself over to the wild fantasy. "Your body, your desires, and all the pleasure they bring will be the envy of lands beyond Agrabah. Everyone will admire you, a true symbol of ultimate power and virility."

"Your court will desire nothing more than to feel what it is like to be pleasured by their Sultan, and no desire of yours will be denied. Take your queen, for example." He paused as Jafar tilted his head suggestively.

"Jasmine, the most exotic of your conquests, refusing your advances for so long, will soon succumb to your will. Her body and soul will lie helpless beneath you, totally destroyed by your carnal might. She is arrested in her beauty and vigor captivated by the sexual storm only you can bring. And in that stormy bliss, the glow of desire reigns in her every breath, thrusting her deep into a state of absolute, mind-numbing pleasure. Her cries will echo through your palace as she yields completely to her sultan.

"The pleasure starts with you pressing her against the floor, her robe sliding off her body to reveal her silky skin. Her eyes widen as you enter her from behind, and you feel her quiver with anticipation."

“More, Iago! Give me more!”

“Everyone in the court can see the intensity of your love-making, and they cannot help but watch and admire your confidence and authority as you drive into her; her body contorting with pleasure, her moans of pleasure echoing off the walls, getting louder and louder with every thrust. As the sweet scent of pleasure and arousal infused the air, your court knew that this was what a true Sultan does with his conquests, and they all congratulated and celebrated you, with an almost eerie reverence."

Iago's words sent Jafar's mind reeling, and he felt a rush of excitement and lust course through him. His eyes blazed with passion, and his lips curled with pleasure, "Yes, yes!" he proclaimed eagerly. Igniting with desire, he turned to Iago with eagerness. "My friend, I shall call for a new slave –one that you can witness me taking. It will be mine, to pleasure and enjoy for as long as I wish. Are you ready, my friend?"

Jafar reached out and summoned Razoul, his chief guard, to him with a wave of his staff. Razoul and three of his loyal men came before Jafar, who sat in the seat reserved for the Sultan.

Jafar smirked as he saw the pieces of his plan slowly coming together. "I have a task for you, Razoul. Take your men…Princess Jasmine is hiding in the marketplace, with a streetrat I desire for my personal dungeon. Jasmine must be brought here, to me, so have her escorted straight to my study and not anyone else's." Jafar's voice was authoritative, and Razoul, knowing this decree was against the law, bowed agreeably before Jafar and spoke his true words.

"My orders come only from Jafar," Razoul said, bowing one knee before him.

Jafar grinned, his erect cock unable to take such obedience from the once proud and Loyal Razoul. But Razoul was needed in the streets, so Jafar turned to the youngest guard brought before him. This one was new, and had yet to have his private audience with the Grand Vizier of Agrabah. Jafar was too hard and lust filled to resist him. He thrust his staff forward, pointing it at the young guard's face.

“And one more thing..." Jafar continued, his gaze mischievous, "Leave behind the youngest, most attractive guard in your protection to me. I have...unfinished business here," he said, a knowing smirk pushing up one corner of his mouth…a big, pulsing cock in need of a tight hole.

"You." he said gruffly to the stunned man. "The one who just dared to turn his face away from his Royal Vizier! You shall stay and attend me until Jasmine has been brought here. Your master commands you to obey my every whim and sate my every pleasure. This is the fate of those who turn their heads to my authority."

The young guard was semi-handsome, with a well-defined jawline and sparkling blue eyes. His face held an air of innocence, though as Jafar's eyes roved over his body, he saw a large and impressive physique, bulging and toned in all the right places. His lips were full and rich, pouting in just the right way.

The young guard's eyes widened with shock and revulsion. He looked to Razoul for some support, only to find none. Razoul had been conditioned in obedience to Jafar. He simply bowed submissively before his master, as if aroused by this violent display of power.

"Do as your master commands, or suffer the consequences," Jafar warned, tapping the shaft of his staff forcing the guard to notice the predatory Cobra. Reluctantly, the guard stepped forward to do as he was told. Jafar smiled to himself, knowing he had him exactly where he wanted him.

Razoul clenched his jaw tightly, trying to quell his arousal. Jafar had taken great pleasure in abusing Razoul's loyalty and he buried the fear and humiliation deep inside him. He watched, helpless, as Jafar stepped closer to the younger guard. His hands roamed hungrily over his body, torturing him with a desire he could not quench.

Razoul gasped as Jafar grabbed the guard's ass. He was painfully reminded of their last terrifying encounter, when Jafar had viciously taken advantage of Razoul's loyalty. He watched, feeling powerless, as Jafar continued to arouse and dominate his meek servant. Knowing there was no escape, a cold sweat beaded on Razoul's forehead as torture mixed with pleasure, and he trembled in anticipation of Jafar's next move.

"Now go, and make me proud," Jafar commanded Razoul, with one last thrust of his staff. The guards quietly exited the room, while Iago stared admiringly at his master. Jafar's power electrified the atmosphere, and he laughed out loud.

"Oh how I love to be in control," Jafar purred, licking his lips in anticipation. He turned his gaze to the young guard, whose body quivered with fear. Jafar's gaze ran hungrily over the young man's body, enjoying the way the guard's eyes widened in fright.

"Iago," Jafar whispered, his voice a low rumble, "Witness the magnitude of my power. Before me stands a young man, helpless and broken, my every command to be followed without question, his body a mere vessel ready to be filled with pleasure and pain."

Jafar reached out with one hand, casually, letting his long fingers slide over the trembling guard's face. "Pleasure and pain, Iago," Jafar smiled wickedly, "I will use him for both. And for every ounce of pleasure I give him, there will be double the amount of pain."

The young guard whimpered with fear and desire, unable to fight against the intoxicating dominance of Jafar's voice. Jafar chuckled darkly and wandered closer, leaning in to smell the guard's neck, his hands wrapping around the back of the man's neck and tugging him closer.

"Do you like that, boy? Can you feel my power? It's so thick and oppressive, so strong and all-encompassing. Everything I wish will be done for my pleasure, without question. I have just conquered the Sultan himself with my mighty magical cock, and you, my young pet, will be my witness to its strength and unending power."

The young guard was completely taken in by Jafar's hypnotic words and dominance. Soon, he nodded eagerly, allowing this man, whose power and station dwarfed his own, to claim him and use him as a palace whore. Jafar grinned in delight, pulling the young man closer and deepening his thrusts as his arrogant words echoed through the chambers.

"I have dominated this city with my might and prowess, taken all it has to offer, and I shall not rest until my power is absolute. You will all be my willing submissive, devoted to pleasing me in every way I demand. You are nothing but my obedient pet, eager to please your master in any way he desires. From now on, you are mine, and mine alone."

Iago smiled as he watched the dynamic between master and slave. He felt a stirring in his own loins at the thought of what his master had already done and what his powerful cock could accomplish in the future.

"My lord, your dominance knows no bounds," Iago praised. His words seemed to embolden Jafar further. "Your power is potent and powerful, and with it, your mighty cock can lay claim to the pleasure and pain of any man, woman or child in the land. Show this one, my lord, how all their fates are inextricably in your hands! You have conquered even the Sultan with your magical cock, master! It is a sight to behold, and no one can deny its might!

Iago grinned in pleasure as he watched Jafar's playful display of power, his master relishing in it.

"Oooh, The Sultan's job will be nothing," Iago praised. "Your cock is so vast and powerful, sir. There will be no resistance against its might."

Jafar gave a knowing smirk of satisfaction as he thrust deeper inside the young guard. "That's right, Iago," he purred. "Anywho opposes me will bow to my almighty cock. I shall swallow them whole, pleasuring them to a level they've never before imagined."

"Yes, sir!" Iago exclaimed. "Give them pleasure they never thought possible! Make them beg, make them scream, make them quiver at your touch. Show them why you are the one who has conquered the city, why Jafar is the one Sultan who can bring unbridled pleasure and pain in the same beautiful act!"

"Oh yes, Iagos, I will do exactly that," Jafar said, rising up and planting a passionate kiss on the stunned guard. "You know I won't rest until I have pleased each and every one of my subjects." With that, Jafar pulled out and stood back to admire his conquest, the young guard filled with both pleasure and fear.

"Look at him," Jafar said with satisfaction, an almost feral light in his eyes. "So helpless and obedient in the face of my might. Does he not realize that such humiliation and submission is an aphrodisiac for my kind? Beyond tantalizing, beyond anything he can comprehend."

Jafar paused, his fingers tracing the chest of the guard, as if gauging the change in muscle tone from fear. "But don't worry, I can understand, boy," Jafar snarled. "Your agony is my pleasure. The power of my cock is to excite you, to bring you to the edge of your limits and keep pushing. You may never realize the pleasure and satisfaction you can bring me. But it doesn't matter, for I shall savor every single drop of your submission like the juice of a ripe fruit."

"Do you feel your power exploding inside you, my Lord?" Iago said in a hushed, reverent tone. "Ride him as you would the city itself, breaking him to your will and owning him like a prize. His submission will be your reward, an example of the absolute authority and control you wield over him and every other soul your dominion."

Jafar chuckled, thrusting deeply as the young man whimpered beneath him. "Yes, Iago, I do feel it," he mewled, arching his back and thrusting harder. "Do we not deserve pleasure? Those who bend the world to our will? Times like this, talent and craft must meet so that justice commences. Our feet must be firm in the sand, while our hands dip into the soil to take our meant reward."

Jafar felt the power of his own control wash over him as he stared down into the eyes of the trembling guard, who’s ass was trying to yield to Jafar’s mighty cock…but it was just so big. His thrusts became more intense and frenzied as the guard took him in eagerly, too weak to resist Jafar’s power. Jafar could feel Iago's gaze upon them, heavy and aroused, and it only served to heighten his animalistic need to dominate and destroy this boy.

Jafar ran his hands through the guard's hair as he pushed in and out of him. He felt like a god of pleasure. Jafar thrust into him harder and faster, feeling the younger man struggling to keep up. He felt himself approach his climax and savored it as it slowly rose.

"That's it, my pet!" Jafar exclaimed. "Let me in as deep as you can and show me what kind of reward a good, power Sultan deserves!"

Jafar finally released into the guard's mouth with a loud orgasm, feeling his body turn to liquid as Iago clapped and called out his praises. Once his breathing settled, Jafar gently pushed the guard away and smiled down upon him.

"It will not be forgotten that you willingly submitted yourself to me," Jafar said. "Let all my palace guards now know that if you show obedience to your new Sultan, you will be rewarded accordingly." With a satisfied smirk, Jafar stroked his long beard and strengthened his power with it, “Now, run off…I’m done with you for now.”

The guard bows low before hastily turning on his heel to exit, desperate to be out of the presence of the dreadfully powerful advisor. As the doors close behind him, all that remains is the satisfied smirk of Jafar, emboldened in his power. Then all is quiet once more as Jafar returns to his scheming, already plotting his next move with excitement and pleasure.

"You are -- you are truly a force to be reckoned with, my lord," Iago quavered, his voice at odds with the pure awe that filled his eyes. "Your power, your stature, your sexual prowess, no one - not even that ridiculously stuck-up princess - could resist your massive, God-like cock...especially not the little woman..."

Jafar rolled his eyes and shook his head, smiling slyly at Iago's eagerness for him to acquire the Princess’ hand in marriage. “Iago, my pet, do not be so hasty. The Princess is a difficult specimen to mold in my favor, capable of more resilient opposition to my demands than some of my not so reputable targets. So, knowing this, I must be patient and wait as I see her weakened and eroded before my might.”

Chapter Text

The Sultan's chambers were dimly lit, and Jafar walked in with a confident swagger, gripping his hypnotic staff tightly. 

He found the Sultan stirring awake in his bed, looking confused and alarmed to be woken up with no protocols. He knew Jafar must leave, that to barge in on a sleeping Sultan, even during a crisis would invite death. 

But without hesitating, Jafar pointed his hypnotic staff at the Sultan. He had taken his mind so deeply before, and now, in his frustration and demand for royal subjugation, Jafar showed no hesitation. He let the red flow out of his staff, and planned to take what he wanted. Now. 

Jafar was on the edge of the Sultan's bed and waved his staff in a hypnotic pattern. The Sultan slowly closed his eyes, and Jafar smirked to himself. Then, they opened again, a glimmer of red…Jafar’s red, showing just how deeply the once powerful man had fallen. Jafar could not contain himself. The sight of Princess Jasmine running off in a fit of tears had aroused him more than he could stand. Knowing that he could not have her yet, he stormed off to the Sultan's chambers, determined to find some kind of relief. 

Jafr commanded, “Remember, sire…your sole purpose is to pleasure me…in mind, and in body…your pathetic body must serve its…superior…” 

Iago cackled, “Oh, this is gonna be good. Squeeze him Jafar…squeeze him like a grape!” 

Jafar scoffed, but kept his eyes fixed on the Sultan. He knew that though fucking and debasing the Sultan was the closest thing he had to gaining  he truly wanted...the Princess…the one woman who was still beyond his grasp. This was another reminder that his horrific schemes and actions had not gained him any closer to his desires.

Jafar’s lustful thoughts were interrupted as the Sultan muled...a subconscious request for a bit of mercy. Jafar could not help but laugh. It was clear that he now commanded his former liege.

Jafar leered, savoring the Sultan's complete subservience under the power of his staff. Jafar wanted something far more than the Sultan had to offer, the sweet embrace of Princess Jasmine. She was just a few steps away, alone, crying in her massive sweet, guarded by men Loyal to Jafar. He felt himself swell with anticipation. "All the power in the world is right there for me to take," he thought to himself, "No one will stand in my way...once she is ready..."

Jafar looked down at the broken Sultan, 'Kneel.” 

And the Sultan complied, dropping to the floor in front of his servant. Jafar ran his staff across the Sultan's back as he moved closer, allowing himself some momentary pleasure at the prospect of conquering this once powerful man and making him succumb to his whims.

"You will pleasure me tonight," Jafar intoned in a deep, commanding voice. "Your entire being is mine, you will do whatever I ask of you." The Sultan trembled and complied. 

Jafar had gone mad that night. He was filled with unrequited lust for Princess Jasmine, and since he could not have her yet he was determined to take out his sexual frustration on the Sultan. His big, engorged cock needed its release, and the Sultan’s royal holes belonged to him now. Jafar's eyes glowed with evil delight, pointing the staff that had claimed the Sultan’s mind so many times towards his supposed master. 

Jafar snarled, "Kneel before me! Right here, on the royal bed. Kneel before me, my toy." 

The Sultan complied, trembling in fear as the dark sorcerer pointed the tip of his staff towards him. The Sultan, whether through his slumbering mind, or his relentless conditioning showed no resistance, and on his massive bed, before the tall and terrifying man, The Sultan knelt, and supplicated himself before Jafar. He was so small, bent down on all fours as Jafar approached him and dominated him.

But this was wrong. Jafar had seen the Sultan bow to him so many times. He wanted the Sultan to kneel, so that his large, royal behind was ready for Jafar’s rage.

“Fool.” Jafar was bold now. His slave had failed him, and needed to feel that failure, “Kneel before your master…facing away…” 

The Sultan, the man of great wealth and power, felt pain from his mistake. Then his clouded mind realized what he must do…and turned his body around. He knew Jafar was behind him. Jafar would make everything better…and he bowed to the thought of Jafar and his power…

Leaving his big ass exposed for Jafar to see…and use…

Jafar smiled in satisfaction, his eyes lingering on the Sultan's body before moving his gaze to Iago. 

"Watch, Iago. Tonight you will witness the humiliation…the submission…of the most ‘powerful’ man in Agrabah." Iago squawked in agreement and watched as Jafar ripped the nightgown off the Sultan, sliding his hands over the ruler's body, showing his deranged ally who owned it. Jafar slid his hands down the Sultan's back and pulled him closer, pushing his hips against the man's tight ass. His big, sheathed cock had been teased so hard that night. It needed to be released. His hands found the Sultan's rear, squeezing and caressing the tight flesh. The ‘loyal’ advisor’s fingers moved inside the Sultan's tight ass, and he felt a surge of pleasure.

There was no resistance. 

"Beg for your Master's pleasure, Sultan," Jafar commanded. 

The Sultan, now completely under Jafar's power, whimpered softly and begged for his pleasure. Jafar smiled in satisfaction. It was time for the ultimate humiliation. 

"Master Jafar, I beg...I beg..." 

Jafar pushed the Sultan onto the bed and grabbed the ruler's hair, pulling it tight as he pinned the man's body down. Jafar licked and suckled on the sultan's neck until he heard a scream of pleasure mix with the pain he inflicted onto the man. 

He thrust himself into the Sultan's tight body, pushing himself deeper and harder until the Sultan was screaming. His hands squeezed the pillow, his hips thrust against Jafar's as the two men merged in a dance of pleasure and pain.

Jafar owned the royal man now. It was his right to claim his holes…to use him like a slave…to punish Jasmine’s father for failing to become his sooner.

“One day, Jasmine will be my bride and I will take her as my own.” Iago cackled in agreement, enjoying the sight of Jafar’s massive cock, a thing of lust and power, breaking it’s way into the small hole that was surrounded by the Sultan’s big, flabby, bouncy asscheeks, that Jafar grabbed with such force as he put the Sultan in his place.

The Sultan screamed and writhed in pain as Jafar ravished his body. He felt violated, degraded and humiliated as he had never been before. Jafar was in the throes of passion, imagining the body of Princess Jasmine as he took what he wanted from the Sultan. The Sultan groaned and begged for mercy, but Jafar was relentless in his attack and soon had his way with the Sultan, using him as a surrogate for his real desires. He relished the power and control that he had over the Sultan, and imagined what it would be like when he could finally have Jasmine in his grasp.

Jasmine's body was like an hourglass, with curves that captivated Jafar's eyes. Her small waist was flanked by her voluptuous hips, that the cruel man yearned to grab onto. Her breasts were big and round, pushing against the fabric of her tight clothes, eager for a powerful man to release them. Her tanned skin was smooth, like that of true, divine royalty, and beckoned Jafar's touch every time he saw the young princess. Her lips looked soft and inviting, and Jafar longed to kiss them. Her eyes were a deep, dark brown, and they sparkled with a mysterious intensity. Jafar needed to have this beautiful creature as his own, to do as he pleased and make her moan his mane. He imagined her body pressed against his, her curves molding to his body, and her breath quickening with passion. He wanted her to feel his pleasure and beg for more. 

Jafar rode the Sultan hard, imagining the beautiful girl in his place. He thrust into his ruler, as a beast would mount its bitch.

“So tight…” Jafar growled as he took what was his.

“So…so big…” The Sultan soon groaned and moaned with pleasure as Jafar ravished him. Each thrust of Jafar’s cock, far too big to be the first any man takes, degraded and violated him, yet the Sultan found himself aroused by the power and control that Jafar exercised over him. He liked the way his body shuddered for Jafar's cock and the older man felt a rush of pleasure that only comes with submission to a bigger, stronger man. Subconsciously the Sultan needed Jafar, because it allowed him to release the inhibitions and pressures of the kingdom he had held onto his whole life. Jafar took what he wanted, and the Sultan now begged to be rid of his power, dignity, and control.

The whole time Jafar was imagining Jasmine's body with each stroke and thrust. Jafar was a sociopath, he took what he could, and only thought of taking more.

He could picture her slender, curvaceous frame and her full, luscious lips. He imagined taking her in his arms and ravishing her body, dominating her and putting her in her proper place: beneath him. He continued to fuck the Sultan, his own moans became louder and more intense, knowing his big cock would soon make her moan his name into the Arabian night. He could almost feel her soft skin against his own, and smell her sweet, floral scent. He imagined her submitting to him, submitting to his every whim, worshiping him with her perfect body like a common palace whore…and the world would know what a beautiful, submissive and eager Sultanna Jafar had conquered. He let out a deep groan as he imagined himself pushing his painfully large cock into her tight body, claiming her with every thrust, shredding her revealing blue gown, making her love his cock more than she ever loved her father, her subjects or her kingdom.

Jafar was in a trance, his desire for the beautiful Princess Jasmine raging through his veins like a wildfire. He had tried to keep his lust in check, but now, feeling the tight hole he was filling yielded to his cock, the thought of her perfect body beneath him was too much. He had to possess her.

And the only men who could stop him, the Palace guards, Razoul, and now, the Divine Sultan of Agrabbah, were his hypnotic slaves, begging Jafar to take anything he desired. 

Jafar had marched into the Sultan's chamber, casted his hypnotic staff towards him, as was his right to do, and claimed his slave, forever putting the old man in his place. He would forget this night, but the Sultan’s ass would forever be his now. Jafar’s hypnosis required seduction, and the widower could never have realized how susceptible he would be to Jafar’s games. Jafar got off controlling the man whose station was so much higher than his own, hearing moans bellow him increase and feeling the big, cushiony ass yield to his powers more and more. It got him off not because the Sultan was an attractive man, but because Jafar was getting away with ravaging one of the most powerful men in the world. Soon, the laws of Agrabah would be clear. The Sultan would pass down his authority to the man Princess Jasmine deemed worthy…that is what Jafar’s ambitions would grant him. To be married to the most beautiful woman in the world, while he had complete power…unlimited power…over all those who once thought themselves his betters… 

As he continued to thrust into the Sultan, Jafar began to whisper words of hypnosis into the Sultan's ear. "You are mine to do with as I wish. You will obey my every command. You will pleasure me, with your body and your mind, and you will do it willingly." The Sultan, completely enthralled, complied with every word. His body moved in perfect harmony with Jafar's, and his moans and cries of pleasure only further excited Jafar. 

"Tell me, my Sultan," Jafar said, "What is it that you desire most in the world?" 

The Sultan replied, breathless, "I desire you, Jafar…Oh, my…Jafar…it hurts…but I need it…I need it so…" Jafar smiled. 

Iago laughed cruelly, his beady eyes gleaming with delight at the suffering of the ruler. Iago saw the man he hated, and his perverse, little parrot mind got off, knowing that once Jafar got everything he wanted…he’d be too busy to torment and fuck the Sultan. Someone else, someone even more maniacle would have to fuck the old man over, the way Iago felt he had been abused.

Jafar moved his hips rhythmically, thrusting his pulsing cock deep into the Sultan's asshole. His moans of pleasure echoed through the room, and as he felt himself getting closer and closer to completion, his fantasies of Jasmine intensified. Iago watched in delight as Jafar worked himself into a frenzy, his thrusts becoming more powerful with each moment. 

"Ah, Jafar," Iago croons proudly. "Slide that magnificent cock in deep into his fucking ass, as deep as you can go—as deep as a King should go!" Then Iago punctuates his speeches with a particularly loud smacking of flesh. "That must be it, Sultan. That must be the reason why Jafar will rule over us all! Ah, look how his member glistens like a royal staff! Finally, you must kneel before your King and allow him to ravish you in whichever way pleases him most!"

"Yes, master! Look at your Sultan, taking all of you in! You have truly gifted him with a pleasure no other will ever know!" Iago exclaimed, his voice a husky whisper as he clearly got aroused at the sight of his master's domination, knowing what the man who granted him speech wanted to hear, "Your cock is vibrant and strong, claiming this once powerful Sultan as your own! You prove, once and for all, that YOU are meant to rule! All shall bow down before you!"

Jafar groaned satisfaction as his thrusting quickened, embracing his newfound dominance over the helpless Sultan. He looked down, his red eyes burning with pleasure, as his former superior begged for more. Jafar knew his rule would soon be absolute.

"You are the perfect ruler, my Sultan!" Iago hissed, his excitement unmistakable now, “He’s moaning for you now…your cock is his whole world now!”

The Sultan whimpered beneath Jafar, panting out his admiration for his captor. "Aaahhh…yes…Jafar, you're so…big…you have the Sultan on his knees…you were made for this!"

"That's right!" Jafar hissed between thrusts, relishing in his mastery and strength. "I have earned this power! Now, yield to your new ruler!"

The Sultan complied, eagerly surrendering to the pleasure Jafar was delivering, "Yes, my ruler! Please take me hard, take me deep. Make me see the depths of your rule, Jafar!"

Iago cackled madly, inspired both by the show put on before him and his own cunning. "Hit him, my master!" he demanded, laughter dancing in his voice. "Let me hear your slave's cries as you spank him! Show him who the TRUE ruler is!"

Jafar gave an eager chuckle before delivering a hard slap to the Sultan's behind, eliciting a strangled cry of pleasure from the Sultan and a satisfied smirk from Jafar.

"Again! Hit him again!" Iago screamed, the sight clearly spurring him to a higher degree of excitement.

Jafar obliged, rearing back and smacking the Sultan's backside with more intensity. The Sultan screamed out in a mix of pleasure and pain, every new strike seeming to make the pleasure even more excruciatingly heavenly.

"Fuck him harder, show him who rules!" Iago shouted, laughter tumbling from his beak as he watched his master clearly relish in the power he held.

Jafar complied, slamming into the Sultan's body with wild abandon, as the once powerful man below him moaned and wailed out with pleasure for his newfound ruler. Now, the Sultan’s broken mind and body knew who held the true power. And it was Jafar.

"You are unstoppable, master!" Iago proclaimed. "Your cock's power is a sign of your strength, a spear that will pierce the heart of any who oppose your rule!"

The Sultan moaned in agreement, his body shaking as he accepted Jafar's dominance. He was no longer the leader of Agrabah but a mere puppet to Jafar's will. Jafar's cock soared higher as he reached his peak, the pleasure overcoming them both. Jafar had taken the once powerful Sultan and bent him to his whim, proving his unrivaled dominance of the kingdom. They belonged to him now.

"You'd better enjoy this while you can, Sultan," Iago cackled. "Soon, it will be Princess Jasmine beneath Jafar instead of you! Then all Jafar will want you for is a fucking footstool while he makes your baby girl squeal louder than you are now!" 

"Yes," Jafar moaned, his movements becoming more frenzied as he imagined his conquest of Jasmine. He imagined pushing her onto the bed and ravishing her until she was begging for more, “She is mine! She belongs to me!”

As he rode him harder, Jafar gave the Sultan’s big ass a powerful spank. He did not know why, but spanking his thralls ass always brought Jafar his pleasure faster. The Sultan’s ass was so massive from this angle, it was big and plump and needed to be ravaged and plundered by Jafar’s massive cock…but in his mind, was only the perfect, tight roundness that was his daughter…the woman who would beg for his cock every night…

"Soon, she will be mine- beneath me! Fuck yes! Take it all!" Jafar let out a loud moan of pleasure as he filled the Sultan with his hot cum, “Take it my whore! Fuck Yes!!” 

Jafar collapsed onto the bed, panting heavily, his cock still surging into the fat older man below him, unable to do anything but cum himself from the feelings of domination. 

"Soon," he whispered. "Soon, Jasmine will be below me, in any position I desire. Until then…take my rage…take it all…"

All his pent up sexual frustration released in that one moment. Jafar needed more though. Just touching the princess’ shoulders had done it. Taunting the kind young girl about murdering her new peasant lover…he felt control over her. He enjoyed watching the sexy young girl run away from him, powerless, but his cock needed a royal release. As a sadistic man, Jafar cared only for exerting his dominant power, and in lieu of the most beautiful creature in Agrabah, dominated the mind and body of her beloved father, his supposed ‘master’ was the best he could do to show his superiority…for now.

As he finished, Jafar slowly unfroze the Sultan, who was still gasping with pleasure, unable to resist the urges in his mind. He was Jafar’s toy, his plaything, and his mind yielded to him so easily now, just as his big, plump, royal ass yielded to Jafar’s strength and power. 

"Have dreams of me, ‘my master’. Dream of me taking your daughter, violently taking her, each and every night…and feel yourself growing submissive, knowing it is my right to take everything….everything…from you now." Jafar whispered into the Sultan's hypnotized ears, "Soon, once I finish ensuring you and the guards are loyal to their true master, I will claim her for myself...debase her in my throne room that once was yours…and you shall be too weak to resist me…no, you will tell me to fuck her…to take it all for…myself." To those taunts, all the old, weak and used Sultan could do was moan.

“Come, Iago” Jafar snarled, “We are needed in the dungeons…a certain street rat shall require my attention as well.”

Jafar left the Sultan, bruised and broken, lying there on the floor. Jafar smiled to himself, knowing that one day he would have Jasmine in his power and be able to take what he wanted from her. Until then, this was the next best thing.

XXX

The Sultan lay in his bed, thoughts of pleasure and humiliation dancing through his head. In his dream, he watched as Jafar called forth a bevy of beautiful women from all around the land. In his mind, he postured as Jafar selected one after another, flaunting their beauty as he delighted in his victory. He felt the heat of Jafar as the sultan watched on as each woman submitted to Jafar's desires and begged for more, each claiming to be Jafar's favorite. The defeated old Sultan's mind swimming with visions of Jafar making love to an entire harem before him. Sweat beaded on his skin as he watched vividly how the Sultan's massive manhood entered each and every woman. Every thrust was more powerful than the last. The thought of his arch-rival conquering his own people, his own daughter, filled him with dread and lust in equal measure. He moaned, feeling himself getting closer and closer to the climax that had been denied to him for so long.

Suddenly, he heard Jafar's voice, cold and cruel: "Summon your daughter for me".

The Sultan weakly complied, calling out for Jasmine in a voice raw from his earlier ravishing. Moments later, the young woman strode into the room, her brows knit in confusion at her father's strange request. Jasmine paused, before slowly beginning to sway her hips and undulate her body in a sultry dance. She was a sight to behold, and both the Sultan and his foe were left breathless.

"Well, well, Princess," Jafar said, darkly. "It is time for you to demonstrate your loyalty. I command you to...dance for me."

Jasmine stepped forward and slowly undressed for Jafar, his eyes hungrily devouring her and making the sultan shiver with desire. Jasmine's skin was soft and glowing, and her movements were graceful and sensual.

The Sultan shook with desire, his heart beating so hard he thought it might burst from his chest. He wanted nothing more than to take Jasmine and run away from this disgusting display of Jafar's cruelty, but knew he could not. He had to watch, helplessly, as Jafar took what was rightfully his.

He moaned as Jasmine knelt before this new Sultan and begged him to fuck her in the ass...as was the new law in Jafar’s Agrabah. His heart beat faster and he felt his control slip away as Jafar lifted up Jasmine's small dress and spread her wide open. His cock throbbed with anticipation as Jafar slowly slipped inside Jasmine, pounding her tight hole, letting all know who owned it.

Jasmine cried out in shock, before staring pleadingly into the Sultan's eyes.

"Please," she begged, her voice plaintive and desperate. "Please don't let him take me. I...I don't want him. Save me, daddy...save me."

But his old body was too weak to resist, unable to prevent his former foe from claiming what was his. The Sultan could only watch in horror and envy as Jafar took the Princess, his beautiful daughter, roughly and with great pleasure…feeling a painful sting inside his asshole that nearly jerked the fantasy away from him.

But the dream would not die. Jafar stepped forward, taking Jasmine in his arms and claiming her as his own. The sultan felt himself trembling as he watched. Soon, Jasmine begged for Jafar to take her anally, her hips pushing back invitingly. The sultan's throbbing cock almost exploded at the sight of her submission. Jafar accepted the invitation and plunged himself into Jasmine's ass.

The sultan felt a wave of ecstasy wash over him as Jafar thrust into Jasmine harder and harder, his screams echoing throughout the room.

"Take everything you wish from her, my master!" screamed the Sultan, begging for Jafar to own her completely. His cock pulsated as Jasmine eventually exploded in pleasure, her cries of pleasure only heightening the sultan's own arousal.

Jafar picked up speed and the sultan saw Jasmine's body shaking and trembling, her inner walls clenching around the evil sorcerer.

"You see, Sultan, your reign is over. Mine is just beginning," Jafar sneered.

He pounded into her body, driving his shaft deep inside. Jasmine moaned in pleasure as Jafar gave her unimaginable delights.

"You can never deny what is meant to be," Jafar continued, his voice steady and sure. His voice was now an aphrodisiac for the sleeping man, making his cock pulse with need, "For I am the one true ruler of the land, and these pleasures belong to me."

There was a triumphant smirk on his face as he ravished Jasmine, his hips plunging deeper and deeper into her as his orgasm approached. The sultan could do nothing but lay in silent awe, spellbound by Jafar's words and the power he wielded.

"Yes! Yes!" she screamed out loud as Jafar unleashed a whole new level of pleasure, taking her to the brink of madness.

The sultan felt a wave of ecstasy wash over him as Jafar thrust into Jasmine harder and harder, his screams echoing throughout the room.

"Look at me, my Sultan!" Jafar yelled, his dick towering over Jasmine's body. "See what I can do with my divine cock? How I can make her beg for more! See how it feels compared to yours? You can never match it!"

Jafar grinned as Jasmine shuddered with pleasure, her body trembling sweetly against his thrusts.

"This is how it should be," Sultan Jafar said, as he bound Jasmine closer. "For too long, you have kept this pleasure from us. But now, I have finally claimed it, and I will never let it go."

"You see now, Sultan, the true power I possess? Greater than any other. My divine cock is an unstoppable force, fully capable of satisfying the desires of any woman. It is because of my power that I am able to penetrate and claim a woman as beautiful and desirable as Jasmine. And it is through my cock that I will ascend to my rightful place on the throne of Agrabah!"

Jafar continued, pounding into Jasmine with unrelenting force. As he thrust, his body rocking against hers, his voice rose louder and more proud.

"From this day forward, Jasmine is mine. The palace is mine. The people of Agrabah belong to me. I am the Sultan now, and my will is the law!"

Jafar drove himself into Jasmine with powerful thrusts, so powerfully that the sultan could feel his own body trembling with arousal. Jafar's divine cock was as undeniable a force as the power of his will, and Jasmine followed his will admirably. She moaned with pleasure, and Jafar grinned with an arrogance that spoke of ages-old inevitability.

"Gaze upon me, Sultan, and see how powerful I am! My divine cock has what you crave... your feeble flesh is no match for me. I am the one who takes pleasure this night, and Jasmine is my willing subject. Witness the strength of my thrusts, and feel the heat of our passionate lovemaking. This is why I am fit to rule: I possess the strength and passion that the false rulers like you lack. I will use my strength to take my rightful position at the top, and you will forever remain beneath me."

"You always wanted me, and now you can see how easily I can please your beloved Princess. My divine cock easily slips inside her tight hole and thrusts powerfully, sending her into an intense pleasure. Behold how I make her body quiver in delight as I fulfill her desires.

Jafar thrust powerfully into Jasmine, his cock like a piston driving into her tight ass. She moaned in pleasure as he filled her, her body trembling in anticipation of the pleasure it was about to receive. Jafar grinned hungrily as he masterfully enjoyed every inch of her tight body, his movements both persuasive and awkward.

"My power is unmatchable, nobody can compete with me when it comes to satisfying a woman. Nothing can compare to the pleasure I bring, a pleasure that you will never experience. I am bigger, more powerful, and have total mastery over Jasmine. I am the superior lover and you envy me."

"Behold my divine cock, as it conquers and dominates her body. Feel my passion as I fill her with my essence. Surrender to me, for I am the rightful ruler. Accept that your time as her passionate partner is over, and bow down to me in awe and admiration."

Jafar's powerful rod seemed tailor made for bringing Jasmine to a state of bliss. He pounded her, each thrust astounding and more intense than the last. No mere sultan could make her feel this way.

"Oh, Daddy! You wished it was you claiming me, didn't you? But your old, worn out body can't keep up with Jafar's potency. His strength is unmatched and his desires unbridled. With each thrust of his powerful cock, I'm reminded of his greatness and reminded of the pleasure of being taken by him. You could never give me the satisfaction he offers, for his abilities are without compare. Jafar's divine cock was meant to rule, and my erotic pleasures belong to him and him alone. Even in your slumber, it must drive you wild with envy to see how deeply and powerfully he fills me. He is the one true master of my body and it's pure pleasure."

Jasmine's slender body glistened with sweat,  as Jafar relentlessly thrust himself into her ass. Her tight hole encased his hard shaft as he pounded into her. Jafar's cock seemed larger now as it toyed with her inner walls, making her groan in pleasure.

"Ahh, old Sultan, I can sense your arousal even in your slumber. You desire a taste of what I have, don't you? How desperately do you crave the divine pleasure that I am giving to Jasmine? Do you long for me to take you in the same way?

Her skin glowed with passion, and the sultan could smell her sweet scent as it wafted through the room. Her full breasts bounced and quivered with each thrust, and Jafar continued to drive himself deeper and deeper within her. He was cajoling her to submit to him and his dominance, and she willingly did so.

"But you know that can never happen, don't you? How can your feeble body possibly match up to this godlike flesh of mine? I can pleasure Jasmine in ways you could never imagine. See the way she sighs and whimpers in delight as I thrust my hard cock inside her? This is pleasure, like you could never offer her.

His royal seed was going to go inside her. His shaft was powerful and huge, something the sultan could only dream of possessing.

"My manhood is like a hammer, pounding away at her cunt as if I am building a temple devoted to love. My prick is like a sword, cutting through her tight recesses, bringing her to heights of ecstasy that she could have never dreamed. My pleasure was always meant to be hers, and no one else's.

The sultan watched with a pained expression, his eyes glued to the lovers as Jasmine writhed beneath Jafar's relentless movements. He  compared Jafar's large cock to his own and yearned to feel it inside him again, knowing that his big, royal ass could barely fit all of Jafar's manhood.

"Yes, old Sultan, this is the fate you suffer when you cross me. I now own both Jasmine and her pleasure. You can watch enviously, but never have a part in it. This is the price you pay for daring to defy me."

But then, suddenly, Jafar was gone. He had finished his passionate session with Princess Jasmine and then vanished, leaving only the sound of his laughter ringing in the sultan's ears as he awoke to a new day.

And the Sultan of Agrabah was left to his own solace, haunted by visions of his ultimate humiliation, and yet…desperately aroused by the memories of what might have occurred. It was too much…far too much to endure…

Chapter Text

The dungeon was lit by a single, faint candle. Jafar, in the guise of an old man, was holding onto the cold, damp wall, pretending he could not walk. He was peering intently at Aladdin, watching the young man's every movement. Jafar's eyes were full of desire, lust, and hunger...hunger for something he could not put into words.

He had come to this place, looking for his "Diamond in the Rough" but he had not expected such a perfect specimen. As Jafar was sizing up Aladdin, the newly unchained young man began to look increasingly uncomfortable with the situation. He had heard of men like this old man manipulating and using poor boys like him…for perverse reasons. He could sense the dark intention in his gaze and was about to walk away.

But before Aladdin could make a move, Jafar decided to take action.

“You’ve heard of the golden rule, boy? Whoever has the gold…makes the rules.”

Jafar grinned to himself - his plan was going perfectly.

Aladdin stepped forward hesitantly in front of the old man. He was certain this was a trap, but he was willing to take a chance…for the woman he loved. This cunning, but overall naive peasant boy did not know that this old man was in fact the nefarious Jafar, masquerading as an old crone in order to lure Aladdin into the Cave of Wonders…planning to rob Aladdin of everything that made the young boy special.

Jafar, of course, was worse than any of these jackals Aladdin had ever heard about. Using cunning, sorcery and his malicious mind, Jafar took whatever he wanted, no matter how weak or powerful his prey. Jafar's dark wants were coming to light, having conquered his Sultan’s mind, and body with relative ease. And now here was this Aladdin. This streetrat, however unlikely, could unlock limitless powers for him and his dark ambitions. Looking at the trim frame, finely toned body, and beautiful face of this desirable streetrat, Jafar’s heart raced with twisted pleasure and perversion.

Aladdin was slender of body, with a length of height that demanded attention. Firmly toned pecs strained against the tight tunic he wore, clearly hinting at his body's hidden strength, earned from a life of fighting for every meal. A light dusting of hair adorned his chest, with matching tufts above his tight stomach. His perfectly sculpted arms were toned, stronger than Jafar's, even at his age. His legs were slender and marvelously long, and gave the impression of having steel hidden beneath the clothes. This young man, had he been born into the Palace rather than the shit covered streets of Agrabah, would no doubt have had dozens of women vying to give themselves to him.

To look at Aladdin was enough to make Jafar's desires rise, even after the countless romps he had that day with his servants, guards…and his Sultan’s willing throat and ass. He observed Aladdin slyly, seeing that his seduction was already working. His old, red eyes glanced over the curves and valleys of Aladdin’s body and the sorcerer couldn't help but feast on the curves of his butt, hidden only just from view by the fabric of his ragged yet tight pants.

Jafar was enraptured. With just a few words and a little persuasion, he had no doubt he could make even this upstart street rat his own, to command and control as if he were a mere pet. In his mind, he was already the one true Sultan, and he wanted this streetrat to go from a strapping, brave boy with massive potential...to becoming his submissive twink in the bedroom...his little princess, eager for his divine master. With the power and influence he had, Jafar wasn't too worried about getting what he desired in the end. Aladdin had to succumb to him, willingly at that, if that was what the powerful will of Sultan Jafar demanded. His cruel, controlling side threatened to surface, and Jafar had a feeling this young man would be the perfect malleable student to dance to his will.

And he wanted to bend Aladdin into his own obedient sex slave.

He reached into his robe and pulled out a handful of rubies. With these, he could easily put Aladdin into a trance and begin to manipulate him.

Jafar smiled in triumph and pulled out a pair of shining rubies, carefully placing them before Aladdin and his monkey. With a sinister chuckle he began his dark magic… and immediately, Aladdin felt a small surge of energy from the rubies, which seemed to pull him in.

Jafar's voice seemed to echo in his head, filling it with sensuous thoughts and commands. His will began to waver, and his muscles to relax under the hypnotic force of the rubies. Jafar knew this was his chance; he could sense Aladdin's resistance weakening, and so he began to make his demands. He imagined the thrill he would feel as he teased and petted Aladdin, leading him around on a leash like a delectably submissive twink, praising his Sultan and worshiping him like a sex-god. Jafar marveled at the thought of dominating Aladdin, of knowing him utterly and completely as his own.

Jafar wanted it badly, but his experience as a hypnotist gave him his first, hard look at reality. These Rubies were a test, to see how quickly and eagerly a subject could fall into his control. The palace guards would fall slowly, the pathetic older Sultan fell quickly…that miserable Jasmine showed such strength it was hardly worth the effort it would take to command her under the rubies. And Jafar could sense Aladdin's hesitation and reluctance. The boy was not falling. He, like all the others, underestimated this boy’s potential. The rubies dazzled Aladdin, and his greed rose seeing the priceless gems. But Aladdin had a powerful will. A will that could not be broken in a single night. Jafar’s cock stiffened, realizing all it would take to make this curious boy his submissive pet, and there was so much he needed the boy to willingly do this Arabian night for him.

And Jafar needed to calm the desires conquering his body, lest Aladdin should sense it. Jafar had always hidden his agenda so well, and the powerful sorcerer knew that his success with his master was going to his head. he must play the kindly, odd, unidentifiable old man tonight, the intense need to submerge Aladdin in his subconscious, and become his compliant object would need to be shielded.

Still, the evil man's heart raced when he glanced at the youth in his ugly disguise, and imagined the possibilities. Aladdin was a beautiful sight, the princely figure moving like a lion. His eyes captivating, and the shape of his long torso only accentuating what no discerning eyes could fail to describe, his smile stole Jafar's breaths. His ass was round, and begging for hands to grip and massage. As he spoke of treasure, of partnership between two prisoners of the guards, Jafar peeked from beneath his cloak as Aladdin turned to discern a glance from Jafar, running his eyes over Aladdin’s flesh, desiring to unleash the dark pleasures awaiting them. Jafar's mind raced with excitement of what was to come, lowering his body to hide his need…

And so sensing the Street rat’s hesitation to join him, to flee to the preposterous Cave of Wonders, he decided to forgo the hypnosis that had no time to simmer, and to use his powers of suggestion. His gentle voice spoke softly into Aladdin's ear, beckoning him to accept his proposal.

"Aladdin, with my help, you can win over your beloved. Imagine the look on her face when she sees how much you have changed. You can have her heart…her body and heart…all you need to do is follow my instructions."

"I can make this dream of yours come true, if you are willing to obey me. If you do, why, even the princess could be yours forever. Don’t think about old me, picture her in your mind, her beautiful curves, her soft skin, her eager lips. Imagine the pleasure of her warm embrace as her giving nature meets your new station as one of the richest men in all of Agrabah. All of this can be yours if you just…follow me."

Aladdin couldn't deny the power of the old man's words, and felt his resistance fading…and his naive and youthful need to prove himself swoon up. With each second that passed, it seemed that his understanding of the situation was slipping away.

Jafar continued, becoming more bold, needing Aladdin to feel no way to say no, "I can provide you with a lifetime of…pleasures. I can give you Jasmine, and she’ll let you, beg you, to do what you please with her - If you come with me right now. She will want you, lovingly and willingly, and no longer will you have to fear rejection because you were born on the streets.I promise you they will respect you…they will all become devoted to you..."

Jafar finished his speech, but he could not help the stir of arousal that filled him as he continued to imagine his wicked schemes with Jasmine. He would her for his own in the end and make her devoted to him, and the thought was thrilling to him. Even so, he held back his impulses and maintained his outward composure.

His gaze held onto Aladdin, still under his own will, but allowing the sexual hypnosis Jafar forced upon him to influence his choices and send him on his quest. The young man's thin body cut with sleek muscles that shifted with each of his movements, straining against his Arabian rags, began to imagine the power he could attain. His skin glowed with the sun, and his hair was dark and slick, and he felt like the kind of man Jafar whispered he could be. His frame was dusted with a milky tan, toned and shapely from his countless days with no shade given to him on his own, and he planned to venture across the expansive desert in the hope of justice.

The old man wanted to drink in all of Aladdin's perfect curves and ridges. Indeed, soon, once the lamp was in his hand, once the foolish Sultan proclaimed Jafar Master of all Agrabah, there would be more than one sexy, young slave adorning his perfection each and every night...

"Yes...Yes," Aladdin murmured, his eyes glazing over, justifying his trust in such a clearly untrustworthy man. All he could think of was Jasmine, of her warm body and eagerness to please him. He didn't even notice the faint smirk on Jafar's face, or the look of gratification in the old man's eyes. He knew what men like Jafar did - they took advantage of poor people like him…in disgusting ways from what he heard…and he was not about to let himself fall prey to whatever deception the old man clearly planned for him.
But as Aladdin walked past Jafar, he could feel the man's eyes caressing his body, undressing him with a single look. He knew he had a pleasing presence, and hated the feel of the hungry gaze the old man gave him as he passed him.

Jafar dared not reach out and seize his prey, not yet. Patience was one of his greatest strengths, and he'd soon have the boy under his fingernails. For now, he was content to let his gaze rove over the beautiful body that was Aladdin, and savoring the moment he'd usurp the boy's consent and he'd become his submissive twink.

Jafar was desperately in need, but he still held on to his rigid timetable.

Jafar leaned in close to Aladdin and murmured. "If you do as I say, Aladdin, then you will have your sweet Jasmine. She will be yours and no one will ever be able to stand in your way. Wouldn't you like that?"

Though Aladdin put up a fight, Jafar's promises and descriptions were far too alluring. Aladdin finally succumbed, and agreed to go with Jafar, whether through the light mesmerism or his own ignited ambitions to claim the woman he wanted.

“But…but…” Aladdin stirred, trying to regain the moment, “One problem: It’s out there, and we’re in here-”

“mmmm….” Jafar hummed, “Things aren’t always as they seem…” and with that, a small, mysterious hole formed inside their small, filthy dungeon.

“Do we have a deal?”

Jafar knew the boy’s answer before the boy or his monkey could say it. The hunt was on. After so long searching for it, the lamp would soon belong to Jafar, along with the limitless magical powers it promised. He saw Aladdinn bend low to escape through his small hole. From behind, Aladdin’s ass looked so delicious. It struggled to pass through the crack between the stones, and Jafar imagined how good this boy’s willing boy-cunt would be once he was entranced, on all fours, serving his Sultan as only a good little streetrat could…

As they walked to the Cave of wonders, weathering the powerful sandstorm, Jafar was truly impressed with the streetwise Aladdin's charm and intelligence. But it was his ass that really had the older man's attention on their trek into the desert. Aladdin's tight buttocks were hidden beneath the tattered fabric of his pants, but with each movement, the old man could guess their contours. And when Aladdin stood, his pants did nothing to hide this feature of himself either. As if in a trance, Jafar's gaze kept stealing back to Aladdin's behind - unable to tear himself away from this vision of perfect youthful beauty, hoping his disguise of an odd old man distracted Aladdin from his obvious, insidious lust.

Jafar knew that if he had Aladdin in his service, this young man would make an excellent submissive. He'd make sure this young man knew how to obey and how to please his big cock, he'd grow to relish it every time his master called him to worship it, no matter how unwilling the seemingly straight young man thought he was in the moment.

It was yet another thing he wanted to add to his collection- of sex slaves. He closed his fist around his rubies, sure that someday Aladdin would be his.

Chapter Text

“But…you’re so old…”

Jafar’s eyes burned with anger as the Sultan resisted his request to marry Jasmine. He stared at the Sultan, his eyes blazing with contempt. The Sultan had no idea what he was getting himself into. Jafar slowly stepped closer, his staff held out before him. He could feel the power of the staff coursing through his veins, ready to be unleashed on the Sultan. Gone was the calm, seductive Jafar, versed in all of the intricacies of hypnosis. No, after the day and night of defeats he suffered, Jafar was going to fucking take the old man’s mind.

Right here.

Right now.

Atop the ancient throne of Agrabah.

“The Princess WILL marry ME!” He forced his Cobra Staff onto the Sultan. He wanted to break the older man’s mind in two, and he wanted to make it hurt.

He needed him to pay for Aladdin…and that ridiculous feral monkey, for costing him his lamp.

He needed him to pay for Jasmine, who used her crocodile tears to break her father’s will, just enough, to reprimand Jafar in open court for his ruse in beheading Jasmine’s prized Streetrat. He had to bow low to them both…he…the sorcerer and future Sultan, bowed so low, for so long…

“The Princess…will…will marry…”

“You dare defy me?” Jafar said in a low growl. After he allowed Iago to…stroke his ego again, on the Sultan’s very throne, Jafar had spent so long creating this counterfeit law, giving him the power to legally take Jasmine and end this ruse of servitude once and for all…but the old man, the man whose mind he broke…and body he fucked…thought himself able to resist Jafar’s might. In Jafar’s warped mind, that was paramount to treason now.

“Do you think you have the power to resist me?” The Sultan quivered in fear, his entire body shaking. He was no match for Jafar. Jafar advanced, the rubies within his snake staff were burning what was left of the Sultan’s will. He didn’t want anything left. He wanted his reign to begin now.

“You do as I order you to do…” he commanded and hissed, “...Slave…”

The Sultan’s eyes widened, as something inside of him just snapped. Jafar smiled. He had the man exactly where he wanted him. Jafar let go of the Sultan’s chin and began to stroke his face. His touch was gentle, but possessive. He could feel the Sultan’s skin heat up under his fingertips.

“Obey me,” Jafar said, his voice growing, refusing to hide his powers now. “You will do my bidding…and you will take pleasure in it.” The Sultan shivered, his body trembling with anticipation. Jafar smiled, knowing that he had won this battle. He leaned in closer, his breath brushing against the Sultan’s ear.

“I will have my pleasure,” he whispered. “I get everything I want now, and I want to see you take my divine cock in your faggot ass cunt once again!.” The Sultan moaned, his body responding to Jafar’s words. Jafar knew that he had won, and was so close to seizing his throne from this fat, fucking fool.

He began to kiss the Sultan’s neck, his lips gently exploring the man’s skin, testing the Sultan’s will, showing that there was nothing left to resist him. The Sultan’s breath quickened, his desire rising with each passing moment. Here, on his throne and symbol of his power, his Royal Vizier molested him…and all he could do was moan, and yield all of his focus onto Jafar’s red Cobra. The way the red pulsed into his mind now…it hurt…it hurt so badly, and he could not stop.

Jafar’s cold hands moved lower, exploring the Sultan’s body until he reached his inner thigh. The Sultan gasped, his body quivering in pleasure. Not done taking what he wanted in the room that would be his throne room, Jafar moved his hands lower, exploring the Sultan until he found his most sensitive spot…his weak, yet erect cock.

The Sultan cried out in pleasure, his body trembling with pleasure as Jafar explored him. His cock, somehow, belonged to Jafar. It was so hard for the tall, dark man, and The Sultan of Agrabah knew, without any doubt, that he would have to release for Jafar, if that was what the more powerful man desired.

“The Princess…will marry me…you pathetic, broken whore. Say it, that I am your man and that you are my whore.” He ordered him.

“But…but...” He whined, wrestling with his weakening strength, unable to resist his master Jafar, but unsure how to debase himself in his own throne room, that was his father’s before him…there was no law in which a Sultan might give himself up as a whore. But his cock was so hard, and Jafar’s hand was so…unyielding..

“...Go on…” Jafar moaned out, knowing he was about to get his way. The hypnotic power in his voice was unmistakable, and the Sultan's body obeyed, relaxing despite the overwhelming intrusion. Jafar smirked, reveling in his control over the man who once commanded him. His gaze flicked to the royal blue diamond ring that adorned his own finger – a symbol of the power he would soon wield over all of Agrabah.

“Man…” The Sultan moaned out, “You are my…my man…I’m whore…I’m…oh fuck…Whore!”

As his cock continued to stretch the helpless Sultan, Jafar's thoughts drifted to the beautiful Princess Jasmine. He recalled her defiant expression as she passed by him in the palace, declaring she would rid Agrabah of his corrupt influence. The memory fueled Jafar's lust, his frustration mounting as he imagined claiming her as well, bending her to his will as he had done to her father. Jafar moved his hips, feeling his own massive erect cock in need of dominating a royal hole. There was so much he wanted...so many fantasies he had in how he'd dominate his former master on his supposed seat of power. His thoughts were foggy, he was overwhelmed with pleasure. He was ready to do whatever Iago asked of him.

Iago smiled at Jafar's victory over his master’s will. Iago's ability to talk came from Jafar's sorcery, and Iago is nothing more than the dark voice on Jafar's shoulder, telling his master to take more, to fuck his slaves harder, to embarras and humiliate those who prevented him from becoming Sultan, as they should have done willingly, years ago. His words flowed across Jafar's ear and ensnared him completely.

“This is your right, Jafar. You are the superior man, the superior cock. It’s your birthright to claim the throne and its inhabitant—to make all of Agrabah your subject. To demand their absolute submission, and to plunge into her depths. This is your due, Jafar. Come and take what is yours.”

He bent over the Sultan, pushing his whore’s legs apart so he could press his aroused member against the silken cloth. Jafar’s hips started rocking, grinding his hard length against the Sultan’s body. With each thrust, his shaft slid deeper, until his fully erect penis was pushing against the royal member, sending waves of pleasure coursing through his veins.

"You have the right to put the old ruler in his place, beneath your manhood. This is what makes you the superior man. There's nothing like the feeling of ultimate power over another man, and an inflamed Sultan on his throne will no doubt make for a pleasurable experience. His tight holes are no match for your strength. You can take anything you desire, for you are the king of this realm."

Jafar pushed himself inside his whore as he moaned in pleasure. Jafar thrust into the Sultan, their bodies moving together as one. He felt the man’s body quivering with pleasure as they moved together, their passion and desire pushing them higher and higher.

“So eager for me, my former master…You sat atop this throne, this very world… ashamed. Because your true desires, your true needs, were to be whored out by the man with the biggest cock and the strongest will. The urgency you feel right now, the love you feel of your master satisfying you in ways you never dreamed possible… as your body rolls over and over my cock while you beg for more…Now you can finally stop fearing, worrying, leading…your only desire is serving me.”

The Sultan, thinking he was a strong, straight man all his life, stirs at Jafar’s true words. It was the waking hypnosis, he could not pretend he did not experience every trust, every willing moan as Jafar broke him in two. His ass trembles when the head of Jafar’s cock rubbed at the entrance of his sore ass, realizing that this was hardly the first time his ‘most trusted advisor’ had used it to pass his frustrations out onto him. Jafar’s cock was so powerful. Too powerful. It pushes and overcomes the resistance of his ring, invading the Sultan’s rectum and making him feel like a willing, feminine slutt before the masculine dominance that was Jafar. The Sultan, no longer feeling worthy of his royal title, tensed up and moaned, as Jafar’s length kept going deeper into his asshole, as though it would never end. It’s too much, he tells himself, arching his back, tormented and Jafar dominates him and fucks him deeply into his elephant throne.

“It…Doesn’t fit…you’re…you’re too big…”

“Don’t worry.” Jafar pushed, concentrating, controlling himself…enjoying the sensation of owning his master's ass, “I’ll make it fit…I’ll command it to fit inside your cunt!”

“It hurts,” The Sultan whined.

“Whores are made to be taken by the superior man… with the superior cock…tell me…whore…am I the superior man?! Don’t I…deserve…to fuck my whore with my big, fucking cock?”

"Yes," the Sultan moaned. "You’re…you're my man…superior…I’m your whore!”

Jafar had won. He stood behind the mesmerized Sultan, thrusting his hips forward into the pliant ruler's body. The throne room echoed with their heavy breathing and moans, adding to the sinister atmosphere.

The Sultan's desperate whines filled the air as Jafar continued to claim him, his powerful thrusts driving deep into the older man's quivering body. The throne room seemed to close in on them, the shadows cast by the flickering torchlight dancing across their sweat-slicked forms.

"It hurts," the Sultan whimpered, tears collecting in the corners of his eyes as he struggled to maintain his composure.

"Whores are made to be taken by the superior man… with the superior cock... tell me... whore... am I the superior man?! Don't I... deserve... to fuck my whore with my big, fucking cock?" Jafar growled, his voice dripped with cruel satisfaction.

As the Sultan's trembling lips finally responded with a broken and submissive "Yes," Jafar could feel his control over the ruler strengthening, like a serpent tightening its coils around its prey. He reveled in the display of power, the taste of the Sultan's submission intoxicating him. "Yes...Jafar!"

Jafar's dark thoughts turned to the beautiful Princess Jasmine, her defiant words still echoing in his ears despite the lustful moans that now filled the throne room. His mind painted vivid images of having her beneath him, breaking her spirit just as he had her father's.

Lost in his perverse fantasies and the pleasure of dominating the Sultan, Jafar's heart raced with anticipation for the moment when everything he desired would finally be his. He barely registered the sting of his own hand as it cracked against the Sultan's reddening flesh, each slap a reminder of who truly held the power in Agrabah.

"Ah, yes," Jafar growled, his voice dripping with malevolence. "Finally, admitting your place beneath me." His hips continued to drive forward, claiming the Sultan's trembling body as his own.

"Remember that feeling, Sultan," he sneered, "for soon, your daughter will share in it as well."

Jafar couldn't help but recall the way Jasmine had looked days ago, her perfect ass swaying tantalizingly as she passed him in the palace halls. Her haughty declaration that she would be rid of him still rang in his ears, fueling both his lust and desire for revenge. "Oh, how I'll enjoy making her my little slave," he thought, grinning wickedly.

"Your daughter has quite the enticing ass, don't you think?" Jafar spat, his breath hot against the Sultan's ear. "I can hardly wait to have her on all fours before me, begging for my cock just as you are now."

"Please...no," the Sultan choked out between moans, a pitiful attempt at defiance. But Jafar knew that deep down, the once-powerful man was already broken.

"Too late for pleas, old man," Jafar taunted. "She'll soon learn her place, just like you." Images of Jasmine writhing beneath him filled his mind, stoking the fires of his twisted fantasies. "And when she does, she'll call me 'Sultan Jafar'...as she begs for more."

The relentless pounding continued, each thrust a statement of dominance. Jafar reveled in the power he held over the Sultan, watching as the once-proud ruler succumbed to his control. Drenched in sweat and power, Jafar's mind began to wander as he continued to ravage the Sultan's ass. A wicked grin spread across his face as he imagined that it wasn't the Sultan who was beneath him, but rather the street rat Aladdin – the one who dared to dream of stealing Jasmine away from him.

"Imagine," Jafar thought, "the delicious humiliation of bending that young fool over and taking him just like this." He envisioned Aladdin's lean, taut body shivering with anticipation, his muscular arms bound behind his back, leaving him completely at Jafar's mercy.

"Such a pretty little thing, aren't you?" Jafar sneered in his fantasy, admiring the curve of Aladdin's ass, round and inviting, just begging to be claimed. The street rat's dark eyes were wide with fear, yet unmistakably filled with desire, as if he couldn't help but crave the powerful man who would soon dominate him in every sense of the word.

"Please, don't," Aladdin would plead, his voice barely above a whisper, as Jafar positioned himself behind the trembling boy. But despite his protests, the hungry, desperate look on his face betrayed his true desires.

"Too late for that now, my pet," Jafar growled, his arousal growing as he imagined pushing himself into Aladdin's tight, virgin hole, listening to the boy's breathy moans and whimpers with each forceful thrust.

"Tell me you want it," Jafar demanded, both in fantasy and reality, as he mercilessly pounded the Sultan's ass. "Beg for it!"

"Y-yes!" the Sultan cried out, too far gone to even register the true object of Jafar's twisted desire. "Please, m-more!"

"Ah, yes," Jafar purred, the thought of turning Aladdin into his obedient plaything driving him closer to the edge. "You're mine now, boy – my bitch!"

"Remember this," Jafar whispered into the Sultan's ear, his voice dark and sinister. He raised his hand, bringing it down sharply on the reddened flesh of the Sultan's ass, relishing the sharp cry that followed. "This is what happens when you defy me."

As the Sultan lay trembling beneath him, Jafar knew that one day, Aladdin, too, would bend to his will, and would call him 'Sultan Jafar' as he begged for more. And with Jasmine at his side and all of Agrabah under his control, there would be no greater ecstasy than that.

“Now...give the order…you fucking whore!” Jafar moaned, “Make it law…THE PRINCESS WILL MARRY ME!”

“The Princess will-”

It was about to happen. Everything was about to happen. The Crown, the Princess…the best release of Jafar’s life. But it was not meant to be. The trumpets were too loud.

They shook the Sultan out of his trance. They somehow broke Jafar from his induction, as powerful as it was. Jafar had trained to meticulously gain control. Even now, so close, an enslaved Sultan so suddenly awoken by an external noise could ruin all his plans. It was too risky. Jafar needed to wait. His big cock left his slave’s broken asshole, and Jafar retreated back, waiting to see what was awoken in his broken slave’s mind. Those trumpets, almost magical in their power to garner attention, grew louder still and The Sultan, either ignorant to what had transpired, or empowered to not think about it, made his way to the lavish window looking down upon the Palace’s main gate.

“Ah! Jafar…you must come and see this!”

Jafar’s aching cock pulsed. His mighty release was denied…

Chapter Text

Jafar's fingers traced the lines on a map of Agrabah, his sharp nails scratching against the parchment. His dark eyes gleamed in the dim light of his private chambers, surrounded by scrolls and books that littered every surface. He couldn't help but think of Jasmine, her youthful beauty haunting his thoughts while he plotted his rise to power.

"Jasmine," he whispered, his voice low and dangerous. The name rolled off his tongue with a possessive hunger. He imagined her soft features, those full lips, and most of all, her voluptuous breasts, barely hidden beneath her silken garments. They were the perfect symbol of the power she held over him, a power he craved to control and corrupt.

His cock had hurt all day. He was so close. So close in taking the Sultan’s broken mind and making the old man shape his Kingdom’s laws into his own. So close to legally having everything he ever wanted. Then it all stopped. Ali, the supposed, magical Prince of Ababwa (known to all as a fictional kingdom) became a threat that the mighty sorcerer had not prepared for. And Jafar, as manic and rough as he was, would not stomach feeling unprepared against a new opponent…

No matter how scrumptious that new opponent was.

Jafar paced his dimly lit chambers, the flickering candlelight casting sinister shadows upon the walls. His ambition gnawed at him like a ravenous beast, driving him to the brink of madness. He couldn't help but reach down and grasp his swollen cock, aching with need after being denied release inside Sultan Hamid's ample ass earlier that day.

"Damn that Prince Ali," Jafar muttered under his breath as he began to stroke himself, his mind fixated on Jasmine's nubile body - her full breasts, slender waist, and firm, perfect ass – all wrapped in those tantalizing, thin garments. He imagined how sweet it would be to conquer her, to claim her as his own and bend her to his will.

"Ah... Princess Jasmine," he moaned softly, the sound echoing in the cold room. "You'll soon be mine."

"Ah, sweet Jasmine," Jafar murmured, his voice dripping with malice. His large, swollen cock strained against his robes, begging for release. He succumbed to temptation, gripping his stiff length in his talented hand, stroking it with long, languid movements.

As Jafar continued to pleasure himself, his thoughts turned to Prince Ali. The young man had been an unexpected obstacle, but also a source of newfound desire. Jafar envisioned Ali's lean, muscular body – the tightness of his chest, the curve of his sexy ass, and the subtle strength hidden within his slender frame.

"Prince Ali..." Jafar purred, his hand moving faster along his throbbing length. "Your body is so... enticing." He could almost feel the heat radiating from the young man, taste the sweat that dampened his skin.

"Once I have my way," Jafar mused, "you too shall fall under my control, just like your precious Jasmine and the feeble-minded Sultan." A wicked smile spread across his face as he stroked himself harder, faster, his lust for power and control fueling his arousal.

There was something about him that Jafar couldn't resist, something that called to the darkness within him. A wicked grin crossed his lips as he envisioned the prince's lithe, toned body, his perfect ass just begging for Jafar's touch.

"Ah, Prince Ali," Jafar moaned, his other hand ghosting over his chest, teasing his own nipples. The mere thought of dominating the prince sent shivers down his spine. "Such a delectable prize."

His breathing grew more ragged as he continued to stroke himself, his arousal heightened by the mental images of both Jasmine and Prince Ali submitting to his will. The power he craved seemed almost palpable now, fueling his lust and driving him to the brink of ecstasy.

"Yesss," Jafar hissed between clenched teeth, his grip tightening around his pulsating cock. "Must…I must find a way to weaken her resolve, to make her succumb to my will. Force alone will not give me what I want, and with the arrival of Abubu, who obviously has access to some magic…no, if I merely use force and hypnotic power, I shall be doomed to failures again." As if in response to his own command, he felt a surge of hypnotic energy coursing through his veins. An idea formed in his twisted mind, one that would use his dark powers to manipulate Jasmine's emotions and bend her to his desires.

"Subtle suggestions," he murmured, his voice dripping with anticipation. "Plant them in her mind, like seeds waiting to bloom into devotion for me...by using that scrumptious little Prince…."

He stood up abruptly, pacing the room as he delved deeper into his wicked plan. Jasmine's resistance to his manipulations had been frustrating, but love – or rather, the illusion of it – would be her undoing. He knew that she had never experienced romantic love before…her perfect body untouched by the pleasures and pain of a man’s body, and so, with this vulnerability, this whole new world his irresistible virgin Princess had no training to resist, he would exploit her emotional awakening, that perhaps Ali Ababwa could awaken in her.

"Love," Jafar mused, "how easily it can be warped and twisted into submission." He grinned, feeling a thrill of excitement at the thought of controlling Jasmine's heart. "I shall make her fall in love with Prince Ali…then transfer that love to me."

He reached for his hypnotic cobra staff, letting its power flow through him as he practiced the hypnotic techniques he would use on Jasmine.

His cock hurt, it was thick and in need of release. But if he was to ride his ambitions to victory, if he was to become the all powerful Sultan he knew he was…then it was not a Sultan’s duty to wank his own serpent.

No…that was the work of a Sultan’s servants…and slaves…

***

Jafar, concealed in the shadows of his chamber, watched Dahlia's every move as she hesitantly approached him. She had been summoned to him, from a hidden method known to none but her and Jafar Her eyes were vacant and glassy, a clear indication that she had fallen under his hypnotic spell. Jafar's dark heart swelled with pride at his handiwork.

"Handmaiden," he commanded, "I have a task for you." He licked his lips, savoring the power he held over her. "You shall monitor Prince Ali's courtship of Princess Jasmine, and report back to me with any vulnerabilities or secrets you uncover."

Dalia's voice was hollow as she replied, "Yes, Master Jafar."

"Good," he sneered, watching her turn to leave. His gaze lingered on her voluptuous form, envisioning her dressed in the most revealing of harem outfits, her ample breasts barely contained by the flimsy fabric, being forced to show her Princess where her loyalties and desires truly served now. But there was no time for such pleasures now; he had to focus on his plan.

***

From his hidden vantage point, Jafar observed Jasmine and Prince Ali strolling through the palace gardens, their laughter echoing through the warm night air. Jasmine had not wanted to meet with him, refusing to admit what a prize she was. But laws were laws, sutors must be given a public audience with the women they hope to wed, so the two young virgins walked in the beautiful palace gardens. Jasmine’s smiles were defensive, had it not been for Dahlia, one of the few people Jasmine trusted in the whole world, it was likely Jasmine would have resisted this duty entirely.

Jafar’s eyes narrowed as he studied their body language, searching for indications that his manipulations were taking root.

"Jasmine is rude to him. Unlike the others though, she is enjoying teasing him," Dalia whispered, appearing at Jafar's side. Her loyalty and love to the princess remained, even under his control.

"Indeed," Jafar replied, his voice dripping with malice, “You, my slave, are not naive to the ways of women. Is there attraction? Does she want this supposed Prince as women crave men?”

“Oh…” Dalia tried to resist betraying the princess she loved to serve, whom she genuinely befriended over these many years. But Jafar gave her an order…and it had been so long since she had been able to resist ‘Sultan Jafar’s’ orders when he craved her obedience, “Oh yes…yes, Jafar…she would never admit it…but…but the Princess yearns for him…yearns for it…”

"Excellent..." He continued to watch the couple as they leaned closer, their hands brushing against each other. A wave of arousal washed over him, fueled by the thought of corrupting their innocent affection.

"Tell me, Dalia," he said, not taking his eyes off the scene before him. "Have you discovered any weaknesses in their budding romance?"

"Prince Ali is sensitive about his past," she reluctantly admitted. "And Jasmine... she feels overwhelmed by her emotions, confused..."

"Excellent," Jafar purred, a wicked grin spreading across his face. This was the perfect opportunity to exploit their vulnerabilities and bring them under his control. He was so eager for release…so ready to be pleased rather than wearing the veil of pleasing others…

"Return to your duties, handmaiden," he ordered Dalia, dismissing her with a wave of his hand. As she departed, he couldn't help but imagine her in a revealing harem outfit once more, her busty body on display for him alone. His dark mind raced with fantasies of power and control, each more twisted than the last.

"Soon," he whispered to himself, his voice cold and sinister. "Soon, they will all be mine."

But Dahlia was needed to keep an eye on Jasmine. So as he waited, as Jafar slowed down to learn about who this new threat would be, he decided another Servant would please him tonight…and the fantasy of what that servant might wear was about to become a reality.

Jafar's eyes gleamed with satisfaction, spending another hour watching Jasmine and Prince Ali from afar, enjoying watching their love begin to blossom, the tension between them palpable. Their laughter had faded, replaced by awkward silences and uncertain glances. He could practically feel their emotions twisting and churning beneath the surface, the seeds of doubt he'd planted beginning to take root.

He had planted the first seed. More would be needed. But the Arabian night had come. And his horrible, urgent release needed attention. His prized slaves were not yet ready. It was not safe to return to the Sultan, not until Jafar had discovered what magics, if any, Prince Ali had brought to his kingdom. No, tonight, he’d need to lower himself to one of his older, broken things.

"Your Highness," Razoul's voice intruded into Jafar's thoughts, snapping him back to the present. The captain of the palace guards stood before him, just as the true Sultan had commanded of him.

With a quick flick of his wrist, the hypnotized captain of the palace guards appeared before him, dropping his thick robes, to show that he had dressed in a harem outfit that clung to his broad, muscular frame. The fabric strained against Razoul's massive ass, and Jafar could barely contain his excitement at the sight.

"Ah, Razoul," Jafar drawled, his voice dripping with sinister intent. "You look simply...delicious."

He was such a man. So powerful, so masculine…so unrefined. Jafar liked breaking men like this…debasing and taking men as though they were eager, feminin whores for him to use.

"Ah, Razoul," Jafar sneered, admiring the man's humiliation, making no attempt to hide the lust in his voice. "You're right on time. Dressed just as I commanded."

"Master Jafar," Razoul replied, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and arousal. He stepped into the room, the silken fabric of his outfit swishing against his thick thighs, "Please...please not again..."

"Please, my lord," Razoul begged, his voice trembling with humiliation. "Release me from your control…it has gone so far…I’ve betrayed everything I’ve ever…ever…"

"Silence!" Jafar snapped, his eyes flashing with anger. "You will address me as Sultan Jafar and do as you're commanded." He moved closer, his hand reaching out to roughly grope Razoul's chest. "And tonight, you will serve me well."

Razoul whimpered but remained motionless, his body betraying him as he responded to Jafar's touch. Jafar's mind buzzed with anticipation as he considered all the ways he would use Razoul to sate his desires, each more depraved than the last.

"Tonight, you will dance for me," Jafar ordered, his swollen cock straining against his robes. "And then, you will please me in every way I desire."

Razoul tried to resist the hypnotic command, but the moment Jafar snapped his fingers, the burly captain's eyes glazed over, and he began to sway seductively, his hips gyrating as he danced for his master. Jafar reveled in the display, knowing full well that Razoul's will was no match for his own power.

"Y-yes, Sultan…Sultan Jafar," he stammered, beginning to sway his hips in a seductive dance. His movements were surprisingly graceful, and Jafar felt a surge of dark satisfaction at having so thoroughly bent the man to his will.

"Pathetic," Jafar spat, watching Razoul's body twist and turn with a cruel gleam in his eye. "Is this the best the captain of the palace guards can do? It's no wonder Agrabah is ripe for my taking."

As Razoul continued to dance, his cheeks flushed with shame, Jafar got off watching the power he held over the man. It was intoxicating, fueling his lust and driving him closer to the edge.

"Such a fine specimen you are, Razoul," Jafar taunted, his eyes raking over the captive guard's body. "But let us not forget your place in all this. You exist solely to serve me, and tonight, you shall service my cock."

Razoul wished he could resist. But it had been so many nights already. So many nights of giving himself, or one of his witless guards, to be used on Jafar’s massive cock. The pain, the humiliation and the shame it put on him was becoming so much now, so much that Razoul could not contain or control. And dressing this way was new. Jafar knew, deep within his slave, what it took to break him, and Razoul, dressed as a common Slut of Agrabah, knew that he was losing the last things that he felt made him a man with each shake of his big, sweaty, muscular ass.

"You were meant to wear these feminine robes, Razoul. Show me what you've been hiding beneath that ridiculous uniform. Show me the real Razoul, the one that needs his Sultan’s cock." Jafar commanded, his voice cold and unyielding, ready to begin hammering into his toy.

Obeying without question, Razoul's hardened body, from years of training, moved exactly as commanded. Jafar's cock throbbed with anticipation, eager to claim this powerful man as his own.

"Look at you," Jafar taunted, his voice dripping with contempt. "A loyal servant of the Sultan, now reduced to a quivering wreck before my feet. What would your precious Jasmine think if she could see you now?"

"Please, Master Jafar," Razoul begged, tears streaming down his face. "Don't make me do this."

"Silence," Jafar snapped, seizing Razoul by the hair and dragging him closer. "Your pathetic whining only serves to amuse me." He forced the man's head down onto his throbbing length, smirking as Razoul choked and gasped for air.

"Remember this, Razoul," Jafar hissed, his grip tightening in the man's hair. "You belong to me now. Every part of you, every ounce of dignity and pride, is mine to use and discard as I see fit. Get on your knees, you dirty whore. I know which part of you I want to use next." Jafar ordered, his voice cold and commanding. Razoul hesitated for a moment before reluctantly obeying, his eyes downcast in shame. Jafar sneered at the powerful, whorish, willing man as he crawled across to him, on his knees just like any broken harem girl. Nervous and trembling, he reached up towards the object of his addiction, the cock of sorcerer Jafar, and felt his hands on another man’s pulsating member, unable to look away from the Jafar’s cock, knowing how much pain and pleasure it was about to deliver to his willing holes.

"Good," Jafar purred, stepping closer to tower over the humiliated guard. "Now, let's begin."

Though Razoul wished he could resist, he submitted to Jafar's cruel ministrations, knowing his divine master's cock, throbbing with evil need, deserved a kiss to symbolize his devotion to his master. The twisted vizier reveled in his power.

Jafar enjoyed Razoul’s untrained lips. But he was so hard. He had not found release since the Throne Room, since Prince Abubu…that little tease burst into his life. He grabbed his slaves face, and prepared to take what he wanted now.

“Show your master that ass…show me what you're selling, you slut!”

As Razoul continued to dance, Jafar circled him like a predator, his hands caressing the man's exposed flesh, pinching and teasing, asserting his dominance. All the while, the Cobra staff lay unused in the side of the room. Razoul was far too broken now. Just his mere presence could send the broken guard into an eager and homoerotic trance now.

"Tell me, Razoul," Jafar whispered into the captain's ear, "do you enjoy being my plaything? Do you relish the thought of my big cock filling you up?"

Razoul moaned in response, unable to resist the arousal that spread through his body. He hated himself for his weakness, but Jafar's control was absolute.

"Good," Jafar purred. "Now, present yourself to me."

With a grunt, Razoul bent over, thrusting his ample ass out for Jafar's amusement. The royal vizier took his time, running his hands over the exposed globes, enjoying the feminine silks that adorned his slaves' glutes, reveling in Razoul's helplessness.

"Such a delectable sight," Jafar mused, his fingers teasing the entrance of Razoul's asshole. "And so very...vulnerable."

Unable to resist any longer, Jafar leaned in and began to lick and nibble at Razoul's hole, his tongue darting in and out, eliciting moans from the captive guard. The taste of the man's submission was intoxicating, and Jafar could feel his own arousal growing with each pathetic whimper.

"Nothing!" Jafar sneered, pulling away just long enough to deliver a stinging slap to Razoul's ass. "You're nothing more than a weak, moaning whore. And now, you're going to take my cock like the good little slave you are."

Razoul's mind screamed for him to resist, to fight back against Jafar's control, but it was useless. As the royal vizier positioned himself behind the captain, preparing to fuck him into submission, all Razoul could do was moan and accept his fate as Sultan Jafar's willing plaything. Jafar admired the sight, his arousal intensifying as he took in the man's muscular form, knowing that he broke something deep and primal in the hairy, manly man’s mind.

Jafar’s cock entered Razoul now. It took him so deep, knowing his good little whore would moan and beg for more while he was broken in two.

“That’s it, whore. Moan and move, for the cock that broke you and made you mine.”

As Razoul set to work, Jafar's thoughts returned to Jasmine and Prince Ali. The knowledge that their emotional turmoil was only just beginning filled him with wicked glee, fueling his hunger for power and control. Soon, he would have everything he'd ever wanted: Agrabah under his rule, Jasmine as his obedient queen, and Prince Ali as his willing pawn, begging for his cock even louder than the mutt he was fucking like a whore.

"Ah, yes," Jafar moaned, his voice tinged with both pleasure and triumph. "Soon, they will all be mine."

Jafar's predatory grin widened as he thrust deeper into Razoul's trembling body, making the larger man beg for more. The thick scent of sweat and lust filled the dimly lit chamber, a testament to Jafar's control over his prey. As the captain of the palace guards whimpered beneath him, Jafar revealed in the cruel satisfaction of bending the once-proud man to his will.

"Please...Sultan Jafar," Razoul gasped between desperate moans, each word dripping with reluctant submission.

"Please what?" Jafar sneered, emphasizing his dominance by digging his fingers into the flesh of Razoul's massive ass. A cruel smile played upon his lips as he observed the vulnerability of the man who had once been a formidable adversary.

"Please... fuck me harder..." Razoul choked out, hating himself for the words that spilled from his mouth. He knew it was futile to resist—he was completely under Jafar's control, both physically and mentally.

Jafar thrust his hips forward, driving his thick, throbbing cock deeper into Razoul's quivering hole. "That's right," he hissed, reveling in the helpless cries that escaped his slave's lips. "Beg for it, you worthless whore."

As the royal vizier pounded into him, Razoul couldn't help but think of how far he had fallen. To the outside world he was a respected figure in the kingdom, feared and obeyed by those around him. Now, he was nothing more than a plaything for Jafar, a pawn in his twisted game of power and manipulation.

"Tell me you're mine," Jafar demanded, increasing the pace of his merciless thrusts. "Say it!"

Razoul's vision blurred with tears, his pride shattered as the words tumbled forth. "I-I'm yours, Sultan Jafar." The admission was a dagger to his heart, but it only seemed to fuel Jafar's sadistic pleasure.

"Good," Jafar purred, feeling the coil of arousal tightening within him. "Now scream for me."

And as Jafar fucked him with brutal force, Razoul's anguished cries echoed through the chamber—a testament to the depths of his degradation and the unrelenting power of Sultan Jafar.

"Good boy," Jafar smirked, his mind already calculating his next move. He was a master manipulator, and his thoughts turned to Prince Ali, whose as he fucked his willing whole, felt certain he had seen the Prince’s erotic body before. The same enticing features that had drawn Jafar to others…like the street rat he tried to use to procure a magic lamp, were mirrored in the prince – their toned bodies, those captivating eyes, and the tantalizing curve of their asses. It all stirred something primal within Jafar, an insatiable hunger for power and dominance.

"Look at you," Jafar taunted, eying Razoul's tear-streaked face. "Once so loyal, now just a puppet for my pleasure."

Razoul's shame only fueled Jafar's dark desires, but the cunning vizier knew that there was a greater prize waiting for him. Jasmine. A delicate flower, unsoiled by the touch of love or passion, ripe for the plucking. He could see it now: her luscious breasts, heaving with desire, her doe-like eyes gazing up at him in helpless adoration.

"Ah, yes," Jafar murmured, his grip on Razoul tightening. "The perfect conquest."

As he pondered the best course of action, Jafar became acutely aware of the raw power he wielded. He could bend Jasmine to his will, force her to fall for Prince Ali – no, Aladdin – and with her heart in his grasp, he could manipulate her as easily as he'd done with Razoul. All it would take was a few well-placed whispers, a strategic touch of his hypnotic cobra staff, and the princess would be his.

"Imagine it," he hissed, the words barely audible over Razoul's choked sobs. "Jasmine, broken and devoted, worshiping at my feet."

With a wicked glint in his eyes, Jafar delivered a sharp slap to Razoul's ass, the sound echoing through the chamber like a gunshot. Both men cried out – one in abject submission, the other in triumphant ecstasy – and Jafar reveled in the knowledge that he was one step closer to claiming all of Agrabah as his own.

Jafar's grip tightened on Razoul's hips, his thrusts deep and unrelenting. The bigger man below him whimpered, begging for more but hating himself with each eager plea. Sweat dripped from their tangled bodies as they moved together, a twisted dance of dominance and submission.

"Please, Jafar...more," Razoul gasped, tears streaming down his face.

"Ah, you pitiful creature," Jafar sneered, his mind racing even as his body gave in to the carnal pleasure. He reflected on Prince Ali's behavior and mannerisms, searching for weaknesses to exploit in his manipulation of Jasmine, “I can’nt wait to fuck Abubu rather than you. You’re a back-alley whore, a brute that needs a good pounding. Didn't you see abubu’s ass as it strutted along? It was perfection. Like…like a diamond…”

The prince was charming, brave, and resourceful, but there had been something familiar about him - something that stirred Jafar's lust in the same way it did when he thought about Aladdin.

"Could it be?" Jafar mused aloud, a wicked grin spreading across his face as the realization dawned upon him. "This 'Prince Ali' is nothing more than a pretender, the street rat Aladdin…the diamond in the rough…."

Razoul's eyes widened at the revelation, but he could not find the strength to resist Jafar's relentless assault on his body. His will was broken, and all he could do was submit to the vizier's dark desires. His muscular glutes gave a gorgeous bounce as they yielded to Jafar’s massive cock. Jafar wanted to fuck him, and now he could with wild abandon as he thought and cackled about his next, brutal conflict.

"Imagine it, Razoul," Jafar continued, his voice dripping with malicious glee. "The great 'Prince Abubu,' forever debasing himself on his Sultan's cock. What a deliciously perverse fate. I will monitor him…manipulate him…control him with my will and my cock…I’ll ride him like a prized stallion, eager to thrust greater and deeper for his master, knowing that he had the power to stop me, but could not resist my dark, evil cock!."

"Please...no..." Razoul whimpered, but his protests only served to fuel Jafar's sadistic enjoyment. As he continued to dominate his once-loyal captain, Jafar reveled in the power and control he held over the beefy man's body and mind. Razoul wales like a bitch, his lack of self-control was pathetic.

"Your tears only make me harder, Razoul," Jafar taunted, his breath hot against the other man's ear as he whispered promises of degradation and humiliation. "You will learn to crave my touch, to beg for it like the desperate whore you are."

"Never!" Razoul choked out, but even as he spoke the words, he knew they were lies.

"Imagine, Razoul," Jafar mused, his voice low and dangerous. "As I break Jasmine's will, using her love for this pathetic street rat against her. She'll be so consumed by her emotions that she won't even realize she's falling right into my trap."

Razoul shuddered beneath him, the weight of Jafar's words crushing what little resistance remained in his spirit. He hated himself for being so weak, for allowing Jafar to use him like this. The only thing that gave him some resistance, some dignity left was his innate love for the Princess he swore to serve.

"Y-You'll never succeed, Jafar," Razoul gasped out, though his voice wavered with uncertainty.

"Ah, but I will, dear captain." With a sinister smile, Jafar brought his hand down in a swift, brutal arc, spanking Razoul's already tormented flesh. Their combined screams echoed through the dimly lit chamber – one born of submission, the other of dominant ecstasy, “No matter how much you still want to protect your princess, you can't do anything about it. You are a useless addict, only I can give you what your big, submissive ass needs now you slut!.”

"Fuu-uuuuu-uuuck," He groaned as he slammed back into Jafar’s mighty cock, unable to resist wanting more of his conqueror’s manly girth inside of his forbidden hole.
"Such a delightful sound," Jafar purred, his breath hot on Razoul's neck. His fingers dug into the tender flesh of Razoul's bruised buttocks, causing the larger man to groan . "I can hardly wait to hear Jasmine's cries when I finally claim her as mine."

He continued to outline his dark plans, each word a dagger aimed at the heart of Razoul's dignity. The captain couldn't help but listen, sinking ever deeper into despair and surrender.

"First, I'll win Abubu’s trust, pretending to be an ally in his search for true love. Next, I'll use my powers to ensure Prince Ali becomes everything she desires, making her fall hopelessly in love with him. And then, at the perfect moment, I'll strike – revealing his true identity, shattering her heart…and making her an even greater whore than you are now, my pathetic little ass-slave!"

"Please... Please!” Razoul begged, tears streaming down his cheeks as he took in the full scope of Jafar's twisted plan. His Princess was in such danger, but his ass needed Jafar’s cum…Razoul, Jafar’s whore, just kept taking it, and taking it.

"Silence!" Jafar barked, his grip tightening on Razoul. "I'm not done," the powerful sorcerer declared with authority as he continued to fuck Razoul’s ass, "You beg me to fuck you…feel me fucking you…take it, like a slut! Take it, Jasmine! Take it all for your Master! Your Sultan, Jafar!"

Razoul moaned. Jafar was too much. His power and his will was too much to control.

“That's it, you naughty slut, I'm cumming! I'M CUMMING!” he roared out with ecstasy, grabbing Razoul’s big ass, feeling like he owned it, as he filled his whore with a massive, massive load.

As Jafar laid atop of his whore, spent but unsatisfied until it all belonged to him, the superior man padded Razoul’s back. Razoul tried to catch his breath but made no effort to move. His shoulders dropped. He knew that he was broken, and that his ass needed Jafar’s cock again, so very, very badly.

Jafar withdrew from the captain's trembling body, leaving him feeling hollow and empty. "Now, clean your Sultan's cock," he commanded, smirking at the horror that filled Razoul's eyes as he realized what he was being asked to do.

And as Razoul complied, choking back sobs and struggling not to gag on the taste of their mingled juices, the big man’s tattered harem outfit glistened and made his sweaty body look so submissive below his master’s messy cock. Jafar revealed in the knowledge that soon, Jasmine would be just as broken and helpless as the man before him…and that he could make the disguised Street Rat, Prince Abubu with the tight, muscular ass, just as willing and broken below him.

Chapter Text

Jafar's dark eyes glinted with malicious intent as he stepped out of the shadows, blocking Prince Ali's path in the secluded room. The air was heavy with tension, and Ali's pulse quickened, his palms damp with unease. He despised Jafar for his past manipulations, especially the attempt on his life in the Cave of Wonders. But if he wanted to win Jasmine's heart, he had to play along with this charade.

"Ah, Prince Ali," Jafar purred, his voice low and silky. "I see we finally have a moment alone."

"Get to the point, Jafar," Ali snapped, his eyes narrowing as he tried to maintain control over the situation.

"Ah, Prince Ali," Jafar drawled, his voice low and powerful. "You may have fooled the others with your little charade, but I see right through it."

Aladdin clenched his fists, hating Jafar with every fiber of his being. As Jafar spoke, the hypnotic cobra's eyes seemed to glow, capturing Ali's attention. Unbeknownst to him, he was falling into a light trance, his mind becoming more open to suggestion.

"Very well." Jafar smirked, his gaze drifting over Ali's body, lingering on the swell of his chest beneath the silk tunic. "Your courtship is inevitable, so I thought I might assist you in winning Princess Jasmine's heart. After all, it would secure my position as Royal Vizier."

Ali recoiled at the insinuation, but Jafar's hypnotic powers were already subtly at work, manipulating his emotions and sowing the seeds of arousal. As much as he resisted, Ali couldn't deny the stirrings within him, the heat building in his core.

"Your... help?" Ali spat, unwilling to admit that Jafar's words had any effect on him. The young prince gritted his teeth, hating every fiber of Jafar's being.

Jafar chuckled, his laughter echoing eerily within the confined space. "Just some... friendly advice on how to win our dear princess's heart."

"Your advice is not welcome," Ali spat, bitterness lacing his words. Yet, deep down, he knew he could use any help he could get.

"Prince Ali," Jafar drawled, his voice low and powerful, "I understand your distaste for me, but you must realize that my political expertise is essential if you wish to win over Princess Jasmine's heart."

As he spoke, the hypnotic cobra staff in Jafar's hand swayed gently back and forth, its jeweled eyes glinting in the dim light. Prince Ali couldn't help but follow the motion, his focus wavering ever so slightly, as the trance began to take hold.

"Your naïveté may serve you well in other matters, but the intricacies of Agrabah's politics are not something you can simply charm your way through," Jafar continued, dominating the conversation.

Ali clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as he fought to maintain control. But the combination of Jafar's persuasive words, the rhythmic sway of the Snake Staff, and the resonating timbre of his voice were too much. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Ali sank into a light trance, his mind becoming susceptible to Jafar's influence.

"Princess Jasmine," Jafar whispered, knowing this would only deepen Ali's trance. "She is the key to your future, isn't she? You desire her, and I can help you obtain her."

Jafar's words slithered their way into Ali's mind, entwining themselves around his thoughts and desires. Ali couldn't help but be drawn to Jafar's voice – it was so authoritative, so commanding. And as they spoke of Jasmine's beauty and the political machinations that would secure her hand, a part of him yearned for the vizier's approval.

"Come now," Jafar cooed, stepping closer and subtly waving his hypnotic cobra staff. "We both desire the same thing, don't we? To claim Princess… Jasmine and her power."

“You’re sick.” Ali spat back at the taller man, “She’s not just some…some prize to be won. My ego got the better of me the other day, but I’ll never disrespect her like that again”

"Indeed," Jafar replied, his eyes locked onto Ali's, “But she is the woman that leads to control over all of Arabia. You cannot be naïve. She has been groomed for this moment. And even I, who has always struggled to gain the Princess’ ear, even I must admit that she takes the traditions of her people…very seriously, my young, naïve Prince.”

The Prince could feel the tendrils of Jafar's control worming its way into his mind, making him more nervous, more anxious…and more susceptible. He struggled against Jafar’s mellow yet powerful voice, but the allure of Jasmine's touch, the vision of her soft curves, and the promise of their union melted his resolve.

"Fine," Ali growled through gritted teeth. "But I don't trust you."

"Trust is such a fickle thing," Jafar mused, his voice dripping with condescension. "But I assure you, my intentions are... aligned with yours."

Ali's heart pounded in his chest, the weight of Jafar's hypnotic gaze bearing down on him. He knew he was being manipulated, but the desire to be with Jasmine and claim her love overpowered any rational thought. The prince's breath hitched as he felt the heat radiate off Jafar's body, their proximity creating an intimate atmosphere.

"Indeed," Jafar agreed, his gaze drifting over Ali's body with an undisguised hunger. He couldn't help but admire the young man's form – his lean, athletic build, the curve of his hips and the firmness of his ass beneath his princely attire. In Jafar's eyes, Ali was a delectable morsel, ripe for the taking. "And you, my dear prince, are quite a sight yourself. With your natural charm and dashing good looks, you could become a great ruler... provided you listen to those who are wiser and more powerful than yourself."

As Jafar spoke, the emphasis on 'listen' pierced through Ali's hazy awareness, making him all the more susceptible to Jafar's influence. The idea of being obedient, to be guided by someone as cunning and influential as Jafar, felt surprisingly appealing in his current state.

"Listen..." Ali murmured, his eyes glazed and half-lidded.

"Very good, Prince Abubu," Jafar taunted, misnaming him deliberately to assert his dominance, "Her beauty is unmatched," Jafar said, his voice low and hypnotic. "Those dark, captivating eyes... her lustrous hair cascading like a waterfall over her delicate shoulders. And that body, oh, that exquisite body."

Jafar's words painted an alluring picture of Princess Jasmine, further relaxing Prince Ali into the light trance. As he spoke, however, his eyes never left Ali's form. He couldn't help but appreciate the smooth curve of the prince's strong back, the tight muscles of his legs, and the swell of his firm buttocks beneath the fine silks that draped him.

"Of course, she is not the only one with such... enticing attributes," Jafar mused, allowing his gaze to linger on Ali's chest, where his tunic hugged the contours of his pectorals. The prince's breaths were slow and deep, his chest rising and falling in time with the sway of the Snake Staff.

"Ali, you have the makings of a great ruler – strength, charisma, and... passion," Jafar continued, each word carefully calculated to burrow deeper into the prince's subconscious. A part of Jafar longed to reach out and feel the heat of Ali's skin, to trace the lines of his musculature and claim him as his own.

"Think about it," Jafar whispered, his words dripping with dark promise. "With Jasmine by your side, you could rule Agrabah together. You would be entwined, united…united by my guidance…my words as they flow in and out of your powerful, royal forms…"

Desperation clawing at him, Ali found himself unable to resist the allure of Jafar's hypnotic powers. His mind swam with thoughts of Jasmine, her beauty and grace fueling his desire to possess her. The heavy weight of Jafar's gaze bore into him, the older man reveling in the control he held over the prince.

"Embrace your desires," Jafar commanded softly, his voice weaving a spell around Ali's consciousness. "Let them guide you."

Something had finally broken in Aladdin’s iron will. Something small, something the Sorcerer could exploit.

"Imagine her, Prince Ali," Jafar purred, his voice a slow, hypnotic drawl. "Jasmine's luscious body pressed against yours, her soft skin beneath your fingertips, the taste of her lips on yours."

Ali shuddered involuntarily, his body betraying him as he envisioned Jasmine in all her exquisite beauty. The image of her dark, flowing hair, ample breasts and toned legs fueled his desire, and he knew that he would do anything to possess her. Had he been fully in control. Ali was concerned with who might see him so aroused by Jafar’s explicit words.

"Her power—" Jafar continued, his voice weaving a spell around the prince, "—and yours, combined. You would be unstoppable, ruling Agrabah side by side."

"Y-yes, I want that," Ali stammered, barely recognizing his own voice. In the recesses of his mind, a small part of him screamed in protest, but it was quickly drowned out by the overwhelming wave of desire Jafar had conjured.

"Good," Jafar whispered, a sinister grin playing upon his lips. He held out his hand, the blue diamond ring gleaming ominously. "I am your Advisor now, and I'll help you make it a reality, you must merely ask for it..."

The sexy young boy was moaning softly now. He was moaning, thanks to Jafar’s sexy words.

"Claim her as your own…solidify your power," Jafar continued, his words dripping with seductive malice. "Her love will make you unstoppable. Jasmine is truly a stunning woman, isn't she, Prince Ali?" Jafar asked, his voice smooth like silk, as he continued to weave his web around the entranced prince.

"Y-yes," Ali stammered, his body relaxing further into the trance as thoughts of Jasmine's beauty filled his mind. "She's... breathtaking."

“Yes…” Jafar purred, “…breathtaking…”

Seeing Ali so deeply under his control fueled Jafar's lust even further. He couldn't resist reaching out, his fingers trailing along the smooth skin of Ali's cheek. The touch was gentle, almost tender, a stark contrast to the dark desires that roiled within Jafar's heart.

The unexpected contact jolted Ali from his stupor, making him blink in confusion, his heart racing as he realized just how vulnerable he'd been. A sense of unease settled in his chest, realizing that Jafar, the taller, older man who had always been an adversary, now held a strange power over him, and his powerfu,l boney hand had intimately touched him, to zero resistance.

"Wha-?" Ali stammered, blinking rapidly as he tried to regain his bearings, "What... what did you just do?" Ali stammered, his face flushed with a mixture of fear and...perhaps something more.

"Merely admiring what lies before me," Jafar replied, his voice laden with innuendo. "Remember, Prince Ali, our alliance is built on trust and obedience. I can help you win Jasmine's heart and rule this land, but only if you submit to my guidance."

As Jafar's words hung in the air, the hypnotic dance of the cobra staff resumed, its mesmerizing eyes weaving their spell once more. This time, however, Ali was more cautious, aware of the danger that lay within Jafar's seductive promises and hypnotic powers.

"Apologies, my Prince," Jafar said smoothly, hiding his satisfaction behind a veneer of concern. "I was merely admiring your... determination. It will serve you well in winning Princess Jasmine's heart."

"Enough!" Ali snapped, struggling against the arousal coursing through him. But deep down, he recognized the truth in Jafar's words—winning Jasmine's heart meant gaining control over Agrabah, and who better to help him than the Royal Vizier, “Just…just give me your advice Jafar…then get out of my face…”

Jafar reveled in his growing power over Ali, savoring the effect his hypnosis was having on the young man's mind. As he spoke, he scanned Ali's body, taking in every detail, noting how the prince's arousal began to stir beneath his finely tailored clothes. Jafar was gaining a foothold in Ali's deepest desires, and he loved sealing the street rats’ discomfort. It was a minor trance, already breaking, but it was a seed Jafar could grow now.

"Then here it is, Prince Ali," Jafar said silkily, leaning in closer to the still-dazed young man. "In order to win the princess's heart, you must follow the Sultan's laws...but you must show our beloved Princess your ability to inspire...passion..."

As he spoke, his gaze drifted down once more to drink in the sight of Ali's lithe body, his mind already picturing the prince on his knees before him. The thought sent a shiver of anticipation through Jafar, but he kept his expression carefully neutral.

"Remember, Ali," Jafar intoned, his voice low and hypnotic. "You won't be able to see the Princess again. Yesterday was your one chance to court her according to our ancient rules. No one can be granted a new audience with her royal highness…unless you go up the unguarded side of her lavish room, which can only be reached…by magic carpet."

“Fine…” Ali mumbled, the idea slowly seeping in, the fake Prince just trying to survive this odd encounter he could not control.

"Excellent," Jafar purred, extending his hand adorned with a blue diamond ring. "Seal our alliance…our eternal alliance…with a kiss."

"Excuse me?" Ali stuttered, his face flushing hot as his pulse raced. The thought of Jafar's lips on his was...confusing.

"Relax, young one," Jafar chuckled, extending his hand towards Ali. On his finger, the Sultan's powerful blue diamond sparkled – a symbol of Jafar's authority over the ruler. "Kiss the ring, Prince Abubu, and solidify your allegiance to me."

Hearing Jafar address him by the wrong name only heightened Ali's humiliation, but he realized that refusing would jeopardize his chances with Jasmine. Biting his lip, he lowered himself to Jafar's outstretched hand, his eyes never leaving the older man's predatory gaze.

Jafar's breath hitched as he watched Ali bend down, the tight muscles of his back and thighs flexing beneath his thin clothing. The sight was intoxicating, and Jafar reveled in the knowledge that the young prince was submitting to him, even if only symbolically.

Jafar watched intently as Ali's soft lips met the cold surface of the blue diamond, the contrast between the warm flesh and the hard gemstone sending a thrill up his spine. His pulse quickened, arousal surging through him, his big cock twitched at the sight of the prince's submission, and he could barely contain his desire to claim Ali completely – to bend him over and make him cry out for 'Sultan Jafar.'

"Very good," Jafar murmured, his voice tinged with lustful satisfaction. "Now you may rise, Prince Abubu."

Ali stood up, his face burning with shame and anger, but also a strange sense of arousal. The knowledge that he'd given in to Jafar's demands made him feel weak, and vulnerable…he was doing everything this evil man wanted.

"Good," Jafar said, smirking as he relished the young man's submission. "Now go, Prince Abubu."

"Abubu" was not Ali's name, but he didn't correct him. Instead, he gritted his teeth and clenched his fists, the humiliation of being addressed so wrongly igniting a fire within him. He wanted to lash out, to defy Jafar, but something held him back - the hypnotic sway of the cobra staff, the lingering effects of its spell still coursing through his veins.

"Of course, Jafar," Prince Ali replied, his voice tight with barely restrained anger. As he turned away, he couldn't shake the feeling that he had been bested by the cunning vizier, that he was now bound to him in ways both unspeakable and unimaginable. Nevertheless, his mission for that evening was clear. Wait until dark, take his carpet, and try to beg his beloved Princess for her hand in marriage.

Meanwhile, Jafar watched him go, taking in the sight of Ali's ass with ravenous eyes. The way it shifted beneath the silky fabric of his trousers, the promise of what lay beneath – it was enough to make Jafar's mouth water. He knew the power he wielded over the prince was only just beginning, and he would bide his time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

"Patience," Jafar whispered to himself, his fingers tightening around the staff. "Soon, my dear Prince Abubu, you will be mine – in every sense of the word."

***

The door to the Vizier’s chambers creaked open, and Dahlia entered, her eyes glazed with submission. She sashayed towards him, clad in an alluring blue dress that left little to the imagination. To wear it and be discovered would result in her immediate execution. But She knew that Jafar wanted her to wear it…to see her and her thicker, curvier body in the royal Blue gowns of the Princess. Though not quite as stunning as Jasmine, her brown skin and seductive curves made her a tantalizing sight to behold. The fabric stretched taut over her ample breasts and full hips. Her body and her will knew how to present itself to Jafar, the man who controlled her into becoming her Sultan.

"Y-yes, Master Jafar?" Dalia stammered, her voice tinged with confusion and fear, the effects of Jafar's hypnotic hold apparent.

"Ah, Dahlia," Jafar purred, drinking in her obedience. "Come closer, my pet. It's time for you to serve…your master."

"Y-yes, Sultan Jafar," she stammered, her voice trembling with anticipation.

"Report, my dear," Jafar commanded, his voice cold and authoritative, his eyes hungrily scanning her body, needing to use something after getting so close with Prince Ali, "I need to know everything."

Dahlia's eyes glazed over, a sign of her deep hypnotic trance. "Princess Jasmine remains unaware of your plans," she said, her voice devoid of emotion. "She trusts me completely."

"Excellent," Jafar purred, a wicked grin spreading across his face. He could feel his arousal growing, fueled by his recent encounter with Prince Ali and the anticipation of possessing Princess Jasmine, "Tell me of Jasmine's reactions to Ali."

Dahlia swallowed hard, struggling to maintain eye contact with the cunning vizier. "She... she complains about him, my lord. Wishing he would leave. But..." Her voice wavered, but she continued, "But I believe this is a good sign. She ignores those she hates, only ever complaining about those she's…interested in."

Jafar smirked, a sinister gleam in his eyes. "Ah, so our dear princess finds herself drawn to those she has…tension with. How fitting."

A shiver of excitement ran through Jafar at the thought, fueling his arousal. He stared at Dalia, dressed so inappropriately, so whorish, at his command. Her voluptuous body strained against the delicate fabric, making the dark desires within him surge even more.

"Interesting..." Jafar mused, his mind racing with possibilities. "The more they fall in love, the easier it will be to bend their young, impressionable minds to my will."As he contemplated his devious plan for both Ali and Jasmine, Jafar's arousal intensified, fueled by the thought of manipulating their young, impressionable minds. He could already envision their eventual submission to his control, their lustful desires twisted to serve him.

A wicked grin twisted Jafar's lips as his arousal surged, the intoxicating idea of controlling both Ali and Jasmine consuming him. He turned his predatory gaze to Dahlia, who stood trembling before him.

"Good work, Dahlia," Jafar said silkily, his crimson gaze never leaving her. "You have proven yourself useful in my plans."

"Thank you, my lord," Dahlia whispered, her eyes downcast. Within her mind, she was torn between loyalty to her beloved princess and the hypnotic influence Jafar held over her.

He said nothing to her. In her warped mind she was now so…beneath him. But she wanted something…she wanted him to know she wanted it…and it was a servant’s duty…to be truthful.

"Please, Sultan Jafar... I need more of your mighty cock," she begged, her voice quivering with desire.

Jafar smirked, his dark eyes gleaming with wicked intent. "You really can't get enough, can you? Pathetic."

Dahlia shivered. She hated that Jafar could now make her shiver with just a word.

"Your loyalty is commendable," he sneered, "but I must ensure it remains absolute."

In one swift motion, Jafar grabbed a fistful of her luscious hair, yanking her to her knees. Dahlia whimpered, eyes wide with fear and desire, her body betraying her despite her devotion to Jasmine.

"Open that pretty mouth of yours," Jafar commanded, unbuckling his pants. As he exposed his big, throbbing erection, Dahlia obeyed without hesitation, sinking to the floor and parting her lips in preparation. Her thoughts were muddled, but one thing remained clear: she would do anything for Jafar. Anything…even if she did not remember why…

Dahlia's breath hitched. She obeyed, parting her lips as he forced himself into her warm, wet depths. Jafar filled her mouth like nothing else could.

"Ah, yes... just like that," Jafar hissed, gripping her hair tightly as he began face-fucking her with brutal force. Each thrust sent shivers down his spine, fueling his sadistic desires. In between gasps for air, Dahlia's mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions - loyalty to her princess warring with the hypnotic control Jafar wielded over her.

"Nothing you do will save your precious friend," Jafar taunted as he continued to thrust into her willing throat. "Soon, she'll be kneeling before me just as you are now."

Dahlia blinked back tears, her body quivering with a mix of pain and pleasure as Jafar used her for his own satisfaction. The thought of Jasmine subjected to such debasement filled her with dread, but there was nothing she could do to resist Jafar's power…like all the lowly servants Jafar wanted to use, her addiction to him had been long ago sealed.

"Remember when I made you crawl on all fours while wearing only a collar?" Jafar rasped, his breath growing ragged with each thrust. "Or when I had you dance naked in front of a mirror, showing off that plump ass of yours for my amusement?"

As Jafar recounted the humiliating tasks he'd forced upon her, his grip on her hair tightened, he smirked, his hypnotic power lording over her every thought and action.

"Seeing you on your knees, in her robes…do you desire anything else in life, you little strumpet?"

"Please, use me like the slut I am," she begged, her eyes never leaving his rigid cock. "Pound me, Sultan Jafar. Make me feel your divine power."

"Such a filthy mouth," Jafar sneered, gripping the back of her head. "You'll pay for your insolence, but first..."

As he forced himself inside her mouth Jafar cackled, the sensation of absolute control making his pulsing cock feel even mightier. Dahlia's desperate moans and choking sobs only fueled his sadistic pleasure, driving him closer to the edge.

"Deeper," he growled, thrusting mercilessly into her throat. "Choke on my power."

Dahlia gagged, her eyes watering as she struggled to accommodate his brutal assault. Each stroke stripped away her dignity, leaving her a mere shell of the woman she once was.

"Pathetic," Jafar spat, releasing his grip on her hair. "Now, beg for my seed, you disgusting slut."

"Fill me up, Sultan Jafar," she cried out, tears streaming down her cheeks, bobbing out before gagging on Jafar’s powerful length. "I need it, please!"

"Your pathetic please…make me hard, my slutt," he said, smirking as he neared climax. With a final punishing thrust, he emptied himself down her throat, forcing her to swallow every drop.

"Remember your place, whore," he snarled, feeling a needed release from his big, wild cock. It exploded, Jafar moaned like a wild animal. His release after a morning of being teased by the royal couple, was violent and took his whore’s throat for all it was worth.

Dahlia slumped to the floor, gasping for breath, her face smeared with cum, tears and saliva.

"Is this how low you've fallen?" Jafar taunted, reveling in her degradation. "How pitiful. But I suppose, some of us were always meant to merely…serve"

As Jafar released his grip on Dahlia's hair, she gasped for breath, her throat aching from the violent face-fucking. Her body shivered with arousal, despite the humiliation and degradation inflicted upon her. Jafar, smirking at her, sat down on his plush beddings, allowing himself a moment of respite.

"Your highness," she whispered, her voice trembling, "I have something for you."

Dahlia, her large eyes locked onto Jafar's.

"Allow me to present you with…an exquisite gift, my Sultan," she cooed, her voice sultry as she reached into her cleavage.

Slowly, teasingly, she withdrew a silk towel from between her ample breasts. The towel was slightly damp, evidence of its recent use.

The fabric shimmered like an oasis in the dimly lit room, evoking an air of sensuality.

"My Sultan," she whispered seductively, "this is the towel Princess Jasmine used after her bath."

It was a small, delicate thing, clearly meant for someone as refined and beautiful as the princess herself. His heart pounded at the sight.

Her voice dripped with temptation as she continued, "Would you like to sniff it?"

Jafar hesitated, fighting the urge to indulge in such a perverse act. He knew how wrong it was, but the thought of Jasmine's wet, naked body wrapped in this very towel sent shivers down his spine. And the fact that Jasmine’s own servant had brought it to him willingly, ready to betray her mistress for his pleasure... It was too deliciously wicked to resist.

Dahlia's eyes sparkled with wicked desire; her mind enslaved but her seductive nature undiminished. She knew that offering Jafar something so intimate and perverse would fill him with a forbidden lust.

Jafar hesitated, knowing full well how twisted this desire was…how lowborn it made him, to want the discarded, smelly things of those born into royalty. Yet, the thought of inhaling the scent of the beautiful princess was too tempting to resist. He nodded, almost as if under a wicked spell.

"Bring it to me," he commanded, his voice thick with lust.

As Dahlia held the towel up to Jafar's face, he hesitated, trying to maintain some semblance of control. But the knowledge that Jasmine's wet, naked body had been wrapped in this very fabric sent a shiver down his spine. Unable to resist any longer, he inhaled deeply, reveling in the intoxicating scent of the princess.

Dalia obeyed, holding the towel up to his face. As he inhaled deeply, the scent of jasmine and rosewater filled his nostrils, igniting his senses. He could almost feel the princess's warm, supple skin against his own, and the thought made his cock stir with renewed vigor.

Meanwhile, Dalia's hands worked deftly, stroking and teasing Jafar's growing arousal. Her touch was gentle but insistent, coaxing him to surrender to his darkest fantasies. All the while, her eyes remained locked on his, silently begging for permission to continue, to let her ‘Sultan’ who in reality still served the Princess just as she did, taste the forbidden fruit of a goddess, to be as low as all the other wanking pathetic men who lusted after their ruler.

"Sniff it, my Sultan," Dahlia urged, her voice low and breathy. As Jafar inhaled deeply, his nostrils filled with the intoxicating aroma of the princess, his cock began to harden once more, as if awakening from a brief slumber.

As Jafar's resolve crumbled, his thoughts raced with the endless possibilities that lay before him. With Jasmine and Ali under his control, he would have everything he had ever wanted: power, control, and the satisfaction of knowing that he had bested them all. He had perverted desires, this obscene game he created with his enslaved whore proved that. But he enjoyed it so much. He still did not have his Princess…sniffing her underthings was so creepy, but such a powerful reminder of what Jafar was planning to steal.

"More," he growled, his voice hoarse with desire. "I want more."

Dahlia's skilled hands stroked Jafar's now-hardening cock, stroking it gently, preparing him for another round of debauchery. As she worked, her mind raced with conflicting emotions - loyalty to her friend, fear of Jafar's power, and the undeniable arousal she felt from being used by him.

"Your power is unmatched, my Sultan," Dahlia whispered, her voice quivering with a mixture of desire and dread. "Soon, all of Agrabah will be at your feet. You will break them all…just like you broke my will so long ago…"

As Jafar closed his eyes, savoring the Jasmine's scent and the sensation of Dahlia's touch. Jafar's nostrils flared as he inhaled, his mind filling with vivid images of her voluptuous curves and glistening, wet skin. Dahlia, sensing an opportunity to further arouse him in a deeper, naughtier way while her skilled fingers continued to stroke Jafar's rigid cock.

"Can you imagine, my Sultan, how she looks when she bathes?" she purred, her voice low and seductive. "Her supple breasts covered in soap, water cascading down her toned stomach, those long, shapely legs..."

Dahlia's hands never ceased their wicked dance on Jafar's throbbing cock, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Oh, Sultan Jafar, she is truly a vision to behold. Her skin glistening like a thousand suns after bathing, water droplets clinging to her supple breasts and rolling down her perfect, hourglass navel. And she lets me, and only me, dry every inch of her perfect, creamy skin."

Jafar's grip on the towel tightened, his heart pounding in his chest. "Go on," he growled, each word dripping with depravity.

"Her hips sway like the desert sands, and that perfect little ass of hers... you could lose yourself between those cheeks." Dahlia's voice was laced with filth, fueling Jafar's arousal. "Imagine, my Sultan, how desperate she must be, untouched by any man. How badly she craves a firm hand to bend her to your will, to feel your massive cock spreading her tight, virgin cunt."

He had trained her so well…he needed more though, a man like Jafar needed it all.

"You know, my Sultan," Dahlia purred as she continued to stroke Jafar's throbbing cock, her voice dripping with lust, "that as Jasmine's handmaiden I've had the privilege of seeing her naked body in all its glory?" Jafar's eyes darkened with desire at the thought, his breathing growing heavier. "Her smooth, creamy skin, her perfect breasts with nipples like rosebuds, and her divine ass that begs to be worshiped." She paused for effect, her fingers tightening around his shaft.

As he sniffed, and sniffed, Dahlia continued her sordid tale. "I've had the privilege of seeing the princess in ways no one else has, my Sultan. I've soaped her body during her baths, feeling the weight of her perfect breasts in my hands. I've dressed her, caressing her smooth legs as I slide her silken garments up her thighs. And I've brushed her long, lustrous hair, draping it across her naked shoulders while she lounges in her private chambers…dreaming of a man worthy enough for her perfection…worthy enough to take her…"

The depravity of her words stoked the fires within Jafar, his cock now throbbing with need. As he thrust into her, Dahlia gasped, driving him further into a frenzy.

"Every time I touched her," Dahlia continued, her words painting sinful images in Jafar's mind, "whether it was to lace up her sexy gowns or help her undress after a long day, I couldn't help but think about how much you would enjoy the sight of her lithe, supple body... and what you would do to possess it." Jafar's grip on the silk towel tightened, the scent of Jasmine still lingering in the air.

"Over the past weeks, I've been giving you little tastes of her," Dahlia confessed, her words laced with wicked intent. "I brought you her perfumed lingerie, let you smell her bathwater, and now this... the towel she used to dry herself just moments ago. And every time, I imagined you pleasuring yourself, your powerful hand wrapped around your magnificent cock as you fantasized about claiming her."

Jafar's heart hammered in his chest, his arousal reaching a fever pitch. Dahlia grinned wickedly, reveling in the power she held over him in that moment. "You want her, don't you, my Sultan? The real thing, not just these stolen glimpses of her intimate life. You want to bury yourself deep inside her, make her scream your name as you take what is rightfully yours."

"Imagine it," she urged, her voice a sultry whisper. "The night you finally become her betrothed and the Sultan of all Agrabah. Your cock, so hard and ready, sliding into her tight, untouched cunt as she begs for more. And I... I will be there to serve you both, to bring you whatever pleasure you desire.

"Imagine, my Sultan," Dahlia continued, her hand working faster on his throbbing member, "how it will feel when you finally claim her as your own. Her tight, virgin cunt wrapped around your magnificent cock, begging for your seed... You'll be her one and only, her true love, her Sultan."

"Ah, yes," Jafar groaned, his eyes rolling back as the pleasure of her touch melded with the dark fantasies she wove. "Tell me more," he demanded, his voice hoarse with lust. "Tell me about the first time I take her, when she submits to me completely."

"Of course, my Sultan," Dahlia replied, her arousal evident in her quivering voice. "You'll strip her naked before you, admiring every inch of her perfect body. And as she stands there, trembling with anticipation and fear, you'll bend her over and thrust your glorious cock inside her virgin hole."

She needed Jafar, and she needed to betray Jasmine to worship him. Dahlia’s cunt was so hot now.

"Her cries of pain will soon turn to moans of pleasure," she continued, stroking him rhythmically. "And as you fuck her harder, deeper, she'll scream your name, acknowledging you as her one true love, her master, her Sultan."

Jafar's breath hitched at the thought, his body tensing as he neared the precipice of his release. He could see it all so clearly – Jasmine, broken and submissive, begging for his touch, his control.

"Say it," he hissed, the pressure building inside him. "Tell me I'll be Sultan Jafar, ruler of all Agrabah!"

"Y-yes, my Sultan!" Dahlia stammered; her voice laced with desperation. "You'll be Sultan Jafar, the most powerful man in all of Agrabah! And Princess Jasmine will be yours, forever and always!"

"Enough!" Jafar barked, unable to contain himself any longer. "Get on your hands and knees, wench. Offer yourself to me."

"Of course, my Sultan." Dahlia obeyed without hesitation, positioning herself before him, her ample ass raised high in submission.

As Jafar positioned himself behind her, his mind's eye painted a vivid picture of Jasmine in Dahlia's place. He imagined the way her body would tremble beneath him, how her delicate moans would fill the room as he claimed her, marking her as his own. With every thrust, he would bring her closer to sweet surrender, until she could no longer deny the truth: she belonged to him, body and soul.

With a swift motion, he grabbed Dahlia by the hair, forcing her to look up at him. "Now, my little whore, let us celebrate our impending victory."

"Anything for you, Sultan Jafar," she whispered, her voice full of longing and devotion.

As Jafar pushed her down onto the floor, his mind raced with anticipation. He knew exactly where Aladdin would be when the time came to dispose of him, and the thought of it filled him with a dark satisfaction.

"Please, use me like the whore I am," Dahlia begged, her eyes shining with lust as she spread her legs for him. "Pound me, Sultan Jafar."

Jafar obliged, thrusting into her with a primal force that left her gasping for breath. As he took her, his thoughts were consumed by his ultimate goal: ruling Agrabah and possessing its beautiful princess.

"Remember this feeling, Dahlia," he grunted between thrusts. "This is what true power feels like – the power to control, to manipulate, to bend others to your will."

Dahlia moaned in response, her body writhing beneath him as he continued to pound her mercilessly. The room echoed with the sounds of their carnal union, but Jafar's focus remained on the future – on the moment when Princess Jasmine would belong to him completely.

Dahlia's moans echoed off the cold stone walls as Jafar's mighty cock filled her willing cunt. Her once pristine mind now clouded with lust and submission, begging for more of 'Sultan Jafar's' relentless pounding. The blue dress, stolen from Jasmine herself, clung to her voluptuous form, accentuating her ample breasts and wide hips – a tantalizing image that only served to fuel Jafar's obsession with the princess.

"More, please, Sultan Jafar," Dahlia panted, her voice thick with desire, her big, plump ass no match for Jafar’s mighty cock. "Use me like the whore I am."

Jafar smirked, his dark eyes locked onto hers as he delivered another powerful thrust, making her gasp in ecstasy. With each stroke, he reveled in the control he wielded over Dahlia, and by extension, Princess Jasmine. He had meticulously manipulated the situation, planting seeds in Prince Ali's mind to put him precisely where Jafar wanted him.

"Is this what you want?" Jafar asked, his voice dripping with sinister intent. "To be used and cast aside like a plaything?"

"Yes, my master," Dahlia whimpered, her eyes welling with tears. "I exist only to serve you, Sultan Jafar."

A wicked grin spread across Jafar's face as he picked up the pace, driving himself deeper into Dahlia's quivering body. The knowledge of his impending victory over Agrabah and the conquest of Jasmine's heart filled him with a sense of invincibility.

"Remember," Jafar hissed, gripping Dahlia's hair tightly, "you are mine. Your loyalty, your body, your very soul – all belong to me."

Dahlia's only response was a choked sob, her entire being consumed by the pleasure and degradation of her submission. She knew, deep down, that there was no escape from Jafar's iron grip.

As Jafar neared his climax, he reveled in the anticipation of finally possessing Jasmine and ruling Agrabah. His every movement was calculated, his every thought focused on the ultimate prize. He had laid the groundwork for his victory, and now it was only a matter of time before everything fell into place.

"Call me your Sultan, again!" he growled, his breath hot against Dahlia's ear.

"Sultan Jafar!" she moaned, her body trembling beneath him. "I am yours, now and forever."

With a final, brutal thrust, Jafar reached his peak, his seed spilling into Dahlia as a dark symbol of his dominion over her. As they reached their climax, Dahlia cried out his name, her voice dripping with submission and adoration. "Sultan Jafar!"

Exhaling deeply, Jafar collapsed onto her, his heart pounding in his chest. He had taken another step closer to achieving his darkest desires, and he could practically taste the victory that lay just beyond his grasp.

***
Underneath the darkened sky, Aladdin perched on the edge of the rooftop of the lavish quarters given to him by the Sultan, his heart pounding with anticipation. . The magic carpet lay patiently beside him, waiting for the precise moment to take off. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting eerie shadows on the walls, Aladdin couldn't shake the overwhelming arousal that consumed him.

He had planned to meet Jasmine on her balcony later that evening, but as he waited, the image of her beautiful face and vibrant eyes stirred a fire within him. His body grew warm with desire – an arousal he could no longer ignore.

Aladdin's hands trembled as he reached down, grasping his cock with determination. He began to stroke himself slowly, taking in the feeling of his own touch.

Unable to resist the urge any longer, Aladdin fumbled with his pants, freeing his throbbing cock. He gripped it tightly, images of Jasmine flooding his mind as he began to stroke himself. Every sensation seemed heightened, and he couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right.

He was nervous, horny, and inexperienced. He had an experience earlier that day, a sense of confusion he never experienced before. He just needed to take some pressure off. His cock felt so hard, and the woman he was about to meet was so…irresistible…

"Damn it," he muttered under his breath, his hands shaking as he reached down, images of Jasmine's beautiful face, her full lips, and the seductive curve of her body flooded his mind, driving him to the brink of madness. He knew it was wrong, but he could no longer resist the urge to touch himself.

"Jasmine..." he whispered, his voice strained with desire as he began to stroke his cock. Each caress sent waves of pleasure through his body, building an irresistible crescendo within him.

Aladdin's hand moved in a rhythmic motion, his cock pulsing with each stroke, as he focused on the image of Jasmine's enticing body. Her voluptuous breasts, barely contained by her silky top, begged to be touched and caressed. The curve of her hips was accentuated by the gauzy fabric of her pants, which clung to her like a second skin.

"See her," a voice whispered seductively in Aladdin's mind. "So young and sexy, so innocent... yet so ripe for the taking."

Aladdin couldn't help but agree – Jasmine was an intoxicating vision of beauty. His strokes grew faster, more insistent, as more words took root in his thoughts.

"Your body is just as desirable," the cunning sorcerer continued, the words dripping with arousal. "Firm muscles, toned from years of thievery... and that ass... it's a prize anyone would want to claim."

Aladdin's heart pounded in his chest, the blood rushing through his veins as the mysterious voice turned his focus inward. He couldn't deny the truth of those words – his own body was an object of lust, a tool that could be used by others for their pleasure. The thought sent shivers down his spine, but also fueled his desire.

"Stroke faster, Aladdin," Jafar commanded. "Give yourself over to the ecstasy. You can't resist it any longer."

Jafar's voice grew louder, more insistent, as Aladdin's hand moved in a frenzied blur. The world around him seemed to fade away, leaving only the sensations coursing through his body and the dark pull of Jafar's influence.

"Wh-why is he...?" Aladdin's thoughts were scattered, a mix of bewilderment and pleasure coursing through him. Despite the intrusion, he couldn't stop himself – the sensation was too intoxicating.

In the haze of lust, images of Jasmine danced before Aladdin's eyes. They were fueled by Jafar's words, as if the sorcerer was twisting the innocent memories into something darker. Aladdin saw her lustrous hair cascading over her shoulders, her full lips slightly parted, beckoning him closer.

"Keep stroking," Jafar commanded, his voice growing stronger in Aladdin's mind. "You can't resist it."

As Aladdin continued to pleasure himself, the power dynamics shifted. It was no longer about him and Jasmine – it was about the control Jafar wielded over him, the sinister force driving him towards ecstasy. He knew he should stop, but the intensity was overwhelming.

"Yield to your desires," Jafar hissed, his voice now thundering in Aladdin's ears. "You're mine."

As he continued to pleasure himself, Jafar's words from their earlier encounter echoed in his mind, further heightening his arousal. "You will claim her... possess her... make her yours..."

"Wh-why am I thinking about him?" Aladdin thought frantically, his hand never ceasing its rhythmic motion. He tried to shake away the intrusive thoughts, but the more he struggled, the stronger Jafar's voice grew.

"Stroke," Jafar's voice commanded, weaving through Aladdin's mind like a sinister melody. And despite his confusion, Aladdin obeyed, his pace quickening as he imagined Jasmine before him, her eyes filled with lust and longing.

"Let your desires guide you," Jafar's voice continued, insidious and hypnotic. "Give in to them, and you shall have everything you've ever dreamed of."

As Aladdin's hand moved faster, his breathing ragged and uneven, he couldn't help but feel a growing sense of unease. Something was terribly wrong, but the pleasure was too intense, too intoxicating to resist.

"Jasmine," he moaned, his vision blurring as he fought to keep her image at the forefront of his mind. But with each stroke, Jafar's voice grew louder, more insistent, until it threatened to drown out everything else.

"Stroke, Prince Abubu," Jafar sneered, the reverberation of his words sending shivers down Aladdin's spine. "Give in to your desires and claim what is rightfully yours."

"Stop... please..." Aladdin begged, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. But his plea fell on deaf ears, and as his climax approached, Jafar's voice became the only thing he could hear.

"Embrace your destiny," Jafar whispered, a sinister smile evident in his voice.

Aladdin's breath hitched, his hand moving rapidly along the length of his throbbing erection. Jafar's voice had swelled to a commanding presence in his mind, drowning out any semblance of resistance. He could almost see the wicked grin on Jafar's face as he spoke, the Grand Vizier's words weaving themselves into his fantasies of Jasmine.

"Feel your desire reaching its peak, Prince Abubu," Jafar's voice taunted, echoing through Aladdin's consciousness. "Surrender to it. Surrender to me."

"Wh-why are you here?" Aladdin managed to gasp between strokes, his confusion and embarrassment warring with his arousal. But Jafar's laughter only seemed to intensify his pleasure, driving him further toward the edge.

"Can't you feel it, my prince?" Jafar hissed, his voice dripping with dark intent. "Your lust is my weapon, my means of control. And now, you are mine."

"No..." Aladdin whispered, but his feeble protest was ignored. The vision of Jasmine before him blurred, her sultry gaze replaced by Jafar's piercing eyes. The evil man had the power to enter this moment, this moment of intimacy, of forbidden passion…and dominate Aladdin. To make him feel like a naughty boy who needed an older, more powerful man to give him permission to stroke his cock…

As he continued to pleasure himself, Jafar's voice slithered into his thoughts, weaving around every image of Jasmine. "Stroke your cock, Prince Abubu," Jafar whispered, his voice smooth and wicked. Confusion and panic set in, but the pleasure was too intoxicating for Aladdin to resist.

"J-Jasmine," Aladdin gasped, his hand moving faster as the vision of her filled his mind. Her dark, sultry eyes... her full, luscious lips... her slender waist... The hypnotic words of Jafar urged him to focus on each detail, making the fantasy all the more vivid.

"Imagine her body pressed against yours, submitting to your every desire," Jafar continued, his voice dripping with malice. Aladdin's breathing grew ragged, his mind a whirlwind of lust and uncertainty.

"Remember who holds the power, Prince Abubu," Jafar taunted, a cruel chuckle echoing in Aladdin's head. "I control your pleasure... and your fate."

Aladdin's heart pounded in his chest, torn between the undeniable ecstasy and the horrifying realization that Jafar had infiltrated his most intimate thoughts. As his climax approached, Aladdin gritted his teeth, struggling to regain control.

"Stop calling me that!" he growled, his voice strained with desperation. "My name is Aladdin!"

The sound of Jafar's laughter haunted him as he stumbled onto the magic carpet, wiping away the shameful evidence of his submission. With a surge of determination, he took off into the night, flying towards Jasmine's balcony and praying that he could somehow break free from Jafar's sinister grip.

Aladdin's hand moved steadily along his cock, his breaths coming in hurried gasps as he envisioned Jasmine's sexy body. Jafar's voice in his head painted a vivid picture of her supple breasts, barely contained within the sheer fabric of her top. Her smooth, toned legs, leading up to the curve of her hips, were enticing and irresistible.

"Such a young, sexy princess," Jafar purred in the recesses of Aladdin's mind. "Imagine how it would feel to stroke those soft thighs, to taste her sweet lips..."

The words stoked the fire of Aladdin's arousal and he found himself unable to stop stroking. He could almost feel Jasmine's body pressed against his own, their heated skin slick with desire. As Jafar continued to speak, however, the focus of his narration shifted.

"Look at you, Prince Abubu," Jafar sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "So young and fit... your muscular chest, your firm ass. It's no wonder you've caught the eye of the princess…no wonder I’ve chosen to claim you as well."

Aladdin shuddered at the mention of his own body, but the hypnotic effect of Jafar's words left him powerless to resist the pleasure they evoked. His hand sped up, driven by a need he couldn't deny. The sinister tone of Jafar's voice only served to heighten his arousal, fueling his wanton display.

"Stroke for me, Prince Abubu," Jafar commanded, his voice growing stronger and more insistent in Aladdin's mind. "Surrender to the pleasure I control. You can't escape it."

Aladdin's body trembled, his climax imminent, as Jafar's voice filled his thoughts. He fought against the hypnotic power, gritting his teeth and mentally screaming in protest, but it was futile. With a final, desperate gasp, he heard Jafar's order.

"Jasmine is young and beautiful," Jafar's voice purred in Aladdin's mind, "And you, Prince Ali, you are also a vision of youth and desire."

The words felt like a caress, stroking Aladdin's ego, enflaming his arousal even further. He couldn't help but imagine himself tangled up with Jasmine, their bodies pressed together, sweat glistening on their skin. Jafar's voice continued to weave its spell, drawing Aladdin deeper into the erotic fantasy.

"Your strong, toned muscles flex as you take her," Jafar whispered, "Feel the heat of your desire radiating through you. Can you see it, Ali? The way her body arches towards you, begging for your touch?"

Aladdin's breath hitched, his strokes becoming more frantic. He could feel Jafar's presence growing stronger in his mind, tightening its grip on him. The pleasure was so intense, he couldn't resist the urge to give in to the manipulative voice.

"Your own body, Prince Ali, is a temple of youthful virility," Jafar said, his words dripping with sinister intent. "You cannot deny the pleasure you're giving yourself, or the pleasure you'll find in submitting to me."

"Damn you," Aladdin thought, furious at his own compliance, yet powerless to stop.

"Your submission is inevitable," Jafar's voice insisted, now booming with authority, “move that body boy…finnish wanking that worthless cock. It’s all mine…mine to command…mine to control…”

Aladdin couldn't hold back any longer. With a strangled moan, he surrendered to Jafar's command, releasing his seed in a powerful, shuddering climax.

"Give in, Prince Abubu," Jafar commanded, his voice a tempestuous storm within Aladdin's thoughts. "Cum for me!"

The command was too powerful to resist. With a guttural moan, Aladdin succumbed to the pleasure, his seed spilling forth as the sinister voice echoed in his mind. His breathing ragged, Aladdin looked down at himself, shame and confusion swirling within him.

"Wh-what have I done?" Aladdin thought, his heart heavy with guilt. He glanced at the magic carpet, knowing it was time to go.

As he took off into the night, heading towards his rendezvous with Jasmine, Aladdin couldn't shake the sinister presence of Jafar's voice still echoing in his mind. The battle for Agrabah's future was only just beginning, but Aladdin knew one thing for certain – he would not be able to face the cunning sorcerer alone.

But the experience faded, Aladdin’s young body responded to the incoming encounter with the stunning Princess he hoped to woo. Jafar was in his mind, and in his lust, but the young boy pretending to be a prince was too naïve to hold onto what just happened…

Chapter Text

For the Sultan, it was a perfect moment.

In his despair and desperation about his daughter's unhappiness and refusal to marry, he realized that he had lost a step. True, he was over reliant on his advisor Jafar (who was after all, an exceptionally trustworthy advisor) but over the past few days it was like a cloud hung over his mind. He wasn’t sure what was happening, but he knew that all was lost to him.

That was, until he looked upon Prince Ali for the first time.

Charming, Rich, handsome and well bred. Prince Ali was perfect: A dream come true. True, Jasmine would play hard to get…but he knew his daughter. If Ali was at all kind, and respectful, he could win her heart. The young man had a flying carpet after all, the Sultan knew his adventurous daughter would be smitten after one ride.

Gone were the unworthy sutors, gone was the tension between the only relationship he valued. Gone was Jafar’s well meaning, but ridiculous proposal that Jasmine marry him. No, it was all coming together now. He just needed to hold onto this intense feeling of hope, and allow young love to blossom, and to support his daughter in having the perfect life as a co-ruler of Agrabah.

That was, until Ali left the Throne Room. Until evening began, and the members of court all retired.

That was, until the Sultan was left alone, in his empty throne room with no one but Jafar.

"Your Highness, I believe we have unfinished business. I have offered you a deal, and I expect you to keep your word and agree to my proposal.”

“What? Jafar…don’t be absurd…you just saw-”

“Prince Abubu…” Jafar cut him off. He was done. He had never been this angry, and the Sorcerer had no interest in playing the role of the good servant tonight. His minor servants were not cutting it, and now having two undeniably sexy royal slutts in his palace, strutting around in their perfect forms… knowing that he needed to throw a power fuck into both of their tight, disobedient assess…

His temper was too hot, his pride was too hurt…

His balls, too swollen with need…

“Prince Abubu will not make it through the night. He claims to rule a Kingdom and come from a lineage that holds no real power…if his claims are even true. His wealth can easily be absorbed into ours as he has no allies in our entire region that would attempt to avenge him.”

“Jafar, what are you…” The Sultan felt intense unease looking at Jafar now. It was all coming back to him. Whatever magic followed the good Prince into the city…it was no match for Jafar’s hate.

“No, your ‘highness’. We are done. You must now accept my offer, wed your daughter to me this very night…and surrender to my will.”

The Sultan felt trapped…

"Jafar, you...you vile betrayer!" cried the Sultan as his rage returned to full force.

Jafar chuckled before continuing. "At this moment...you are no longer the Sultan. You are too weak…too submissive to my superiority.."

“Guards!” The Sultan called out. Whether it was his instinct to avenge his honor, protect his daughter or to bring justice to such a clear threat, the Sultan was ready to fight back

“Please, they only come for the true Sultan now…” Jafar seized his moment. He was still enraged, but he wanted the Sultan to know he had won. He had always won, “Besides, Razoul is a bit too busy right now…you see, I ordered him to capture Prince Ali before he even stepped into your throne room…and Razoul is only too eager to obey his Sultan’s commands.”

The Sultan was so far behind, but it would not happen again. He was prepared for the red, he couldn’t let the red take his will again.

“Whatever dark magic you’ve done to us, Jafar, it will never end my line. My family has reigned over Arabia for centuries. We have earned the people’s respect and trust…things you’d never be able to even fathom.”

The Sultan's eyes burned with rage as he stared at Jafar, his breaths coming in short and angry bursts. The royal vizier stood before him, smirking, as though he were a mere annoyance. The realization of the depths of Jafar's treachery and manipulation clawed at the Sultan's mind, fueling his fury.

“Hmmm…I disagree.” Jafar dismissed the Sultan, making a point of showing the blue ring…the ring that symbolised his families powers for generation…as he played with the front of his long, red robes, “I think the people, high born and low, just want to know that your daughter is good and fucked. Once she has an heir, and is seen bowing to her powerful, strong husband, I think the people and the histories will be satisfied…I know I will be once that whore Jasmine finally begs me for what we’ve always known she’s wanted…”

"Jafar, you snake! I'll kill you!" the Sultan roared, clenching his fists.

"Will you now?" Jafar replied, his voice dripping with condescension. "I've always admired your spirit, my dear Sultan. But alas, it is misplaced."

“I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you where you stand!”

The Sultan charged towards Jafar, intent on wiping that smug grin off his face. He moved with surprising speed for a man of his stature, but Jafar never wavered. As the Sultan charged forward, Jafar unbuttoned his robe...and pulled out his massive cock.

The Sultan gasped at the sight of it, realizing he had no control over himself. His rational mind had left him, consumed callously by Jafar’s raw sexuality and powerful aura. He felt a heavy wave of dizziness wash over him. His vision blurred, and he felt uncontrollable urges to obey Jafar’s direction. He watched in a trance as Jafar slowly pulled his shirt open, revealing an enormous, pulsing cock, still swelling with the power of a God.

All he could do now was obey, falling into a deep hypnotic trance at the sight of Jafar’s magnificent organ.

The suddenness of this unexpected gesture caught the Sultan off guard, causing him to skid to a halt. His eyes widened in shock and confusion as Jafar's massive cock was unveiled. It had already been inside him before, though the memories were hazy and muddled, leaving only sensations of pain and debasement.

"Still want to fight, Your Majesty?" Jafar taunted, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "Or would you prefer to bow down and worship what you know deep down has already conquered you?"

The Sultan's mind raced, torn between the desire to strike Jafar down and the insidious allure of what stood before him. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat a drum of war and submission battling within him. This was not how things were supposed to be; he was the ruler of Agrabah, not some plaything for the twisted desires of his scheming vizier.

“That’s a good little whore…” Jafar rubbed his cock triumphantly, “You don’t think I spent months slowly conditioning you to my will without reason, do you…you little whore? No, the rubies brought you to this point, but your submission was always the thing that was going to make me Sultan, and you the Palace slave. Now look at you, drooling for my cock…knowing that it gets anything it wants…”

Jafar's massive cock swayed hypnotically before the Sultan, a pendulum of power and lust that held him captive. The formerly straight ruler found himself mumbling under his breath as he stared, unable to tear his gaze away. "So big... can't look away..."

"Ah, my pathetic Sultan," Jafar taunted, his voice dripping with malice and arousal. "How does it feel, knowing you are so utterly enchanted by my glorious manhood?" He took a step forward, forcing the Sultan to stumble backward in response.

"Your mind is weak, just like your pathetic kingdom," Jafar sneered, thrusting his hips suggestively. The motion sent another shiver down the Sultan's spine, his body betraying him once again.

"Stop... talking..." the Sultan managed to choke out, even as his eyes remained locked on the gargantuan member before him. Its sheer size filled his vision, overwhelming any rational thought and replacing it with pure, unadulterated desire.

"Does it frighten you?" Jafar asked mockingly, as he traced one hand along the length of his shaft. "To know that I wield such power over you? That even now, you are helpless before me, a slave to your own base instincts?"

The Sultan wanted to deny it, to scream out his defiance and reclaim his dignity, but all that emerged from his lips was a whimper. He knew deep down that Jafar's words rang true, that he was powerless against the lure of that monstrous cock, which seemed to promise both pleasure and ruin in equal measure.

"Admit it, Sultan," Jafar hissed, closing the distance between them until their bodies nearly touched. "You crave this. You want nothing more than to submit to my will, to have me fill you up and break you apart with this divine instrument of control."

"Please..." the Sultan whispered, his voice barely audible. "I... I can't..."

"Can't resist?" Jafar finished for him, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Or can't wait to feel my cock inside you once more, claiming you as my own?"

"Your willpower is laughable," Jafar sneered, enjoying the Sultan's torment. "You see, your highness, even the mightiest warriors and bravest heroes of Agrabah fall to their knees when faced with my glorious tool. They beg for it, whimpering like helpless pups."

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against the Sultan's ear. "One by one, I've made them my whores, using them to satisfy my every craving, leaving them broken and spent, forever changed by the taste of my dominance."

The Sultan shivered, the images Jafar painted swirling through his mind, stirring something dark within him. He couldn't help but feel an odd sense of pride at the thought of being part of this exclusive group; men conquered and humiliated by Jafar's overwhelming prowess.

"Ah, but I mustn't forget about your precious harem," Jafar continued, his voice dripping with malice. "Did you know that I've sampled each and every one of your so-called 'treasures'? In fact, I had them compare us, you know. Your pitiful excuse for a cock against my magnificent weapon... The results were unanimous."

"You're so much...bigger!" the Sultan gasped, feeling his heart clench tightly within his chest. The thought of Jafar defiling his beloved pleasure slaves was almost too much to bear.

"Each one of them confessed how much more they loved serving me, how my touch ignited fires within them that they never knew existed," Jafar bragged, relishing in the Sultan's agony. "They reveled in my power, submitting to me completely, willingly becoming my devoted sluts. And you... They pity you, my dear Sultan. Your own harem sees you as a weak, inferior man who could never satisfy them the way I can."

The Sultan's vision blurred with unshed tears, Jafar's words cutting him deeper than any blade ever could. His once-proud kingdom was crumbling around him, and all he could do was stand there, frozen and helpless, unable to tear his eyes away from the monstrous symbol of Jafar's dominance.

Jafar smirked, his hand reaching to stroke the Sultan's neck, pushing his head into the wall. “You will submit yourself to me and do as I say. I will fuck your daughter in your bed tonight, and you will watch me fuck her, you will be my loyal servant, and dream of my cock, just as all my other thralls do. Do you accept my offer?”

The Sultan, feeling powerless and completely in the palm of Jafar’s hand, nodded solemnly, then succumbed to the power of his voice, and finally uttered the words, “Yes…so big…yes….”

"Look at you," Jafar sneered, guiding the Sultan back towards his throne. "The mighty ruler of Agrabah, now nothing more than a quivering mess." The hypnotized man stumbled, his eyes never leaving Jafar's gargantuan cock. Every muscle in his body trembled with anticipation, lust clouding his once-clear mind.

He had no other choice but to agree. He nodded his head and said, "Yes, I accept."

Jafar's hands moved sensuously over the Sultan's body as he whispered commands into his ear. The Sultan felt a liquid heat flowing through his veins as Jafar's touch aroused him. Soon, Jafar had the Sultan lost in a dizzying haze of pleasure. With each passing moment, the Sultan felt himself slipping further and further under Jafar's spell. His rational mind was gone now. He just needed and wanted cock.

Jafar dragged the Sultan towards the throne, and the Sultan was overwhelmed with fear and anticipation. Jafar pulled him close, and his eyes burned into the Sultan's soul as he spoke.

"Now, I will break you, my Sultan. I will take you to places you have never been before. I will make you mine, and you will never deny me again." The Sultan trembled as Jafar began to undress him, to rip his loyal robes off, wanting how former master to feel every humiliating moment. Jafar's hands moved over the Sultan's body, exploring every inch of him, for an old man, his skin was soft, pampered from a life inside the palace. He took what he wanted until the Sultan was trembling with pleasure.

Jafar then grabbed the Sultan by the wrist and dragged him over to the throne. They both knew whose throne it truly was now. His body pressed against the Sultan's, and the Sultan felt a surge of pleasure at Jafar's touch.

"Please..." the Sultan whimpered, his voice barely audible. "It... doesn't fit. You're... you're too big..."

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong, my dear Sultan," Jafar replied, smirking as he positioned the head of his massive cock against the entrance to the Sultan's ass. "Don't worry," he whispered into the older man's ear, taking hold of the Sultan's trembling hips. "I'll make it fit... I'll command it to fit inside your cunt!"

Forcing the Sultan onto his own throne, Jafar watched as the man's hands instinctively reached for the armrests, gripping them tightly as Jafar began to slowly push himself inside. Inch by inch, the Sultan's ass stretched and yielded to Jafar's relentless invasion.

"Ah... Ah!" the Sultan cried out, his body shaking with both pain and pleasure. The sensation of being filled so completely was overwhelming, and yet he couldn't help but crave more.

Jafar then proceeded to take the Sultan to the heights of pleasure. Jafar smiled in satisfaction as he felt the Sultan surrender completely to his will. The Sultan was now his, and he could not deny Jafar anything.

"Good," said Jafar. "Now you are mine. You will do as I say, and you will never deny me again. I will wed Princess Jasmine, and each and every night, I will fuck her like she never dreamed of being fucked. You will be my slave, and I will have complete control over your body and your mind, so I can punish you for failing to crown me your Sultan the moment you saw me." The Sultan felt a chill run down his spine and he knew his fate was sealed. He was completely in Jafar's control, and he would never be able to deny him again.

"Yes," said the Sultan, his voice barely a whisper. "You’re…superior…I'm your toy…your slave…your whore." Jafar smiled in triumph and said,

"Good. Now you will never forget this night, and you will never deny me again." With that, Jafar grabbed his Sultan's ass, and turned him around, so Jafar could take the seat on his throne.

"Sign the papers," Jafar demanded, thrusting forward and driving his cock deeper into the Sultan's ass. "Give me your daughter's hand in marriage. Make her mine."

The Sultan's fingers trembled as he weakly grasped the pen, his vision swimming as Jafar continued to fuck him relentlessly. His moans grew louder and more desperate, unable to form coherent words as he signed away his daughter's future.

"Good boy," Jafar growled, his grip on the Sultan's hips tightening as he drove himself deeper still. "Now your daughter belongs to me, just as you do."

The dark and sinister tone of Jafar's voice sent shivers down the Sultan's spine, even as his body surrendered entirely to the pleasure. He knew, deep down, that what was happening was wrong... but at that moment, he couldn't bring himself to care.

“Bounce for me.” Jafar ordered. The Sultan moaned in pleasure lifting his entire body, up and down, thrust after thrust for the true Sultan’s pleasure. Jafar took him again and again. The dominant lovemaking was unlike anything the Sultan had ever experienced before, and the pleasure was beyond anything he had ever imagined. He wanted to be used. He needed to be used by Jafar’s big cock.

“By Allah, filling your little asshole, you’re still so narrow, so tight...” Jafar growled, going down, slipping a hand and caressing the older man’s plump and wide asscheeks. They moved up and down, worshiping Jafar’s cock, unwilling to yield until his master, his Sultan, allowed him to stop. This is what it was to be a King. This is what it meant to get everything you wanted, and to have those who feared you worship you and give you even more.

“Fucking an ass like yours…so tight…so needy… I knew you were meant to be the slave!” Jafar added while he increased his thrusts, wanting to go even deeper into the forbidden hole of the man who he would never bow before again. It felt so good to be worshiped. His cock grew tight and hot, making his Sultan obey him.

"It hurts," The Sultan whined, his voice barely more than a whisper.

"Good, I WANT it to hurt! Whores are made to be taken by the superior man… with the superior cock…tell me…whore…am I the superior man?! Don’t I…deserve…to fuck my whore with my big, fucking cock?" Jafar demanded, his tone dripping with malice and arrogance.

Unable to resist the dark power that controlled him, the Sultan choked out a strained response. "Y-yes... You're the superior man..."

"Good," Jafar sneered, thrusting deeply into the Sultan once more, eliciting a pained cry from his captive.

As Jafar continued his brutal rhythm, the Sultan found himself sinking deeper into submission, his mind clouded by a haze of pain and pleasure. He could feel Jafar's grip on his hips, unyielding and powerful, leaving bruises that would serve as a reminder of this encounter long after it was over.

In the midst of his torment, the Sultan couldn't help but think back to the moment before he'd been ensnared by Jafar's hypnotic gaze. The anger, the indignation, and the resolve to fight back – all of it had melted away in an instant, replaced by an insatiable need to submit to Jafar's will. And though he knew this desire was unnatural, a product of manipulation and deceit, he couldn't deny the perverse thrill it sent coursing through his veins.

"Look at you," Jafar taunted, his breath hot against the Sultan's ear as he drove himself harder, faster. "A mighty ruler brought low by my cock. How does it feel, whore, knowing that every ounce of your dignity has been stripped away, leaving you nothing more than a quivering mess?"

The Sultan's only response was a low moan, his thoughts consumed by the delicious agony coursing through his body. He knew that Jafar sought to humiliate him, to break him entirely – and yet part of him wanted to be broken.

"Answer me!" Jafar barked, punctuating his demand with a particularly vicious thrust.

"Feels... good," the Sultan gasped, tears stinging his eyes as he gave in to the shameful truth. "Feels so... good."

“Yes…it feels good…being fucked by a real man!”

"Yes," the Sultan moaned, his voice trembling with equal parts shame and desire. "You're…you're my man…superior…I'm your whore!"

Jafar's grin was wicked as he continued to piston in and out of the Sultan's ass, each thrust sending shudders coursing through the older man's body. Despite the pleasure he was taking from his conquest, Jafar couldn't help but feel a twinge of frustration.

"Your daughter," he spat, the words dripping with venom. "That little bitch, strutting around like she owns the world. Did you see her the other day, as she left this chamber? The way her ass swayed so invitingly, just begging for my attention?"

The Sultan whimpered, unable to tear his thoughts away from the image of his beloved Jasmine being defiled by the very man who was currently claiming him.

"Haughty little thing, isn't she?" Jafar sneered, his pace quickening. "She thinks she can get rid of me, but she doesn't know just how powerful I am."

His grip on the Sultan's hips tightened, fingers digging into soft flesh. "Toinght, she'll finally be mine – my willing slave, desperate for my cock just like you are now. And there's nothing you can do about it."

“So good! Such good…so much cock!”

"Ah, Aladdin," Jafar murmured, picturing the young man's lean and muscular form. "Such a waste of a fine specimen."

He envisioned Aladdin's strong arms, chiseled from years of scaling walls and evading guards. His taut abdomen, each muscle rippling with every breath. And, of course, that perfect ass that Jafar craved to dominate and claim as his own.

"Imagine, Sultan," Jafar taunted, his voice low and dangerous. "Your daughter, your precious Jasmine, bending over for that street rat. Can you see it? Her tight little ass, bouncing against Aladdin's hips as he fucks her like an animal? It would be so hot...but so wrong to have her whore herself for one so low born. It's a good thing that I, unlike you, was powerful enough to see his illusions, to stop and use their love for my own purposes...otherwise our divine, royal Princess would end up being nothing more than gutter trash on Abubu's sexy, but inferior cock!"

The Sultan could only moan weakly in response, his humiliation mounting as Jafar's words painted vivid images in his mind. But deep down, a small part of him prayed that Aladdin would somehow find a way to defeat Jafar and save them all.

"Too bad he'll be gone," Jafar whispered maliciously, his thrusts growing more forceful. "I would have loved to make him my bitch, just like you...but until I know how he acquired his great powers...it is safer to rid myself of the boy...Oh fuck...my cock gets so...fucking...hard...after I kill!"

"Scream my name, you whore!” Jafar demands, "Scream the name of the man who you will order your daughter to fuck each night...to sire children with...to fucking own your kingdom like the true king he is.” Jafar's thrusts were violent, powerful, and without mercy. He needed to hear it, needed to know that he was in control. Only his own name would make him cum deep inside his slave's fat ass.

"JAFAR!” The former Sultan screamed, so loud that it might have awoken the entire palace. Jafar didn’t care. It was his palace now. Let them hear. Let them cheer and praise their new Sultan. As his name rang loudly in his throne room, Jafar’s anger rose. How dare his slave address him, even in the throes of pleasure…with such disrespect.

He bounded the former Sultan’s ass. He made it hurt. He made it more than the old fool would take at his age…

“”What’s my name…you fucking whore?!”

He knew another Slap was coming, but he realized his mistake, as Jafar hurt him, very badly, the true name left his lips for the first time:

“SULTAN JAFAR! PRAISE SULTAN JAFAR! Please…please cum in my ass, Oh Mighty…Divine…Sultan Jafar! I want to be your favorite…eager…slut!”

Jafar’s powerful orgasm quaked through his entire body, ready to release inside his enslaved master, right on his throne. It felt so good, and the night was so young. Sultan Jafar exploded hard, fast and deep while sitting on his throne. The Sultan collapsed and spasmed above him in a sweaty heaving mess, not sure where his climax ended and where Jafar’s began deep inside his ass. His entire body was marked by Sultan Jafar now. He was his whore. No longer a Sultan, now his Slut…Jafar won, he lost, and he knew it as though it were law.

Jafar threw the horny and defeated Sultan to the ground, and stood before him. Jafar looked down at the man who tried to resist him, and smiled. "Mmm…that’s better," Jafar said with a smirk, "And now to conquer your kingdom the way I just conquered your ass..." The Sultan looks up at his master with a submissive gaze, knowing that he has been conquered and there is nothing he can do but obey, “You want to see that, don’t you, whore?” Jafar teased. The Sultan nodded in answer, and screamed in pleasure as Jafar reached down and wrapped his strong fingers around his throat. The Sultan pushed his head up, begging him to take what he wanted.

“Yes, so eager to obey me...just like all the others,” Jafar whispered, as his cock already hardening, knowing who's tight ass it would devastate next..

Jafar smiled, knowing even without constant hypnotic attacks, the Sultan would now obey his every wish. Once a man yields like that, he’s broken. Jafar is ready for more. All he had to do was snap…once…and Razoul, captain of the guard, entered the Throne Room. The burly captain can’t even look at his fallen master. He only has eyes for Jafar, and he sweats through his report, hoping he makes Sultan Jafar…and his big, hard, exposed cock, proud.

"We are ready, your highness" Razoul says to Jafar, "If he’s where you said he’d be…if he plans to absconded with our Princess…We will capture Ali for you and make sure that he never stands in your way again" Jafar smirked and looked at the Sultan slumped on the ground, “Does that…does that please you, master Jafar?”

Jafar walked towards Razul and straightened himself up for what would be coming next...but not before he let Razul stare at his big cock, swollen and throbbing with pleasure, knowing all the amazing things its power and girth could do when it wanted something.

"Let us get to work" Jafar says, "Let us make sure this kingdom is mine and mine alone."

Razol replies with a bow, feeling the effects Jafar's presence has on him, "Yes...Sultan Jafar."

Another Snap, and Razoul is off into the gardens. If his report was right, Ali was planning to sneak up to Jasmine’s tower, and once rejected would be the perfect place, and precedent to kill the young Prince. Jafar, high on his own power, admitted that it would be fun to throw a few fucks into the street rat before he drowns him, but was uninterested in sideprojects tonight. He needed to finish the plans he set in motion so long ago. The virgin Princess needed to feel how powerful he was becoming.

“It is time, my dear Sultan. I have taken control of your kingdom long ago. You have no choice but to obey me…I’m much…much too powerful." The Sultan nods, knowing that there is nothing he can do compared to Sultan Jafar.

"Now," Jafar ordered, "Clean yourself up…And after I drown that black haired, tight assed brat, you will fetch me my future Queen, to tell her who she will eternally belong to." The Sultan, scared, confused and alone, bowed his head obediently and scurried away to do Jafar's bidding, on his hands and knees. Jafar was Sultan now, and he did not have his leave to rise. Jafar had taken control of the kingdom and now, nothing stood in his way, save for a sexy Princess who would drool at the sight of his powerful cock.

Chapter Text

The moon hung ominously over Agrabah, casting an eerie glow on the city's rooftops. Prince Ali, still naive to the brewing storm, reveled in the afterglow of his enchanting night with Jasmine. The taste of her lips lingered on his, and the warmth of her embrace filled him with a newfound vigor. She was perfection, and she wanted him…she might even love him the way he loves her.

But as he prepared to step off the carpet, a heavy hand clamped down on his shoulder. Followed by another…then another…

Before Ali could respond, a guard gagged him and bound his hands behind his back. His mind raced, desperate to understand why this was happening. He had only just begun to find happiness with Jasmine, and now it was slipping away right before his eyes.

Before Ali could protest or question the situation, the guards forcefully gagged him and bound his hands behind his back. His heart raced as fear gripped him, wondering what Jafar could possibly want from him.

The cold metal of the shackles dug into Prince Ali's wrists, a stark contrast to the warm embrace he had shared with Jasmine just hours before. The night had been magical, their bodies entwined on the carpet as they soared through the skies. Now, he found himself arrested by Razoul and the guards, his world crashing down around him.

"Silence him...gag him!" Jafar heard one guard yell out, a wicked smile playing across his lips. A gag was shoved into Ali's mouth, muffling any protest he might have made. His heart pounded in his chest, fear clawing at the edges of his mind. Jafar's plan to shatter Jasmine's heart was taking shape, and Ali was powerless to stop it.

"Make sure he's never found," Jafar ordered, his voice dripping with malice. The guards seemed…entranced by Jafar, moaning softly as their master walked among them. It was clear that they would do whatever he asked, even if it meant killing a noble prince from a foreign kingdom.

"Please," Ali's muffled plea fell on deaf ears, his eyes wide with terror. He couldn't believe that these men, sworn to protect the kingdom, would follow such a twisted command. But the power Jafar held over them was undeniable – erotic and sinister, laced with the seductive scent of his musk.

Jafar's eyes greedily scanned Prince Ali's body, a carnal hunger burning within him.

"Such a shame," Jafar hissed, licking his lips. "Your beauty is truly intoxicating, but I cannot risk losing Jasmine or jeopardizing my plans." He smirked as Ali struggled against his restraints, terror etched on his face.

"Goodbye, Prince Abubu," Jafar sneered, his eyes locking onto Ali's with a predatory gleam. "As much as I'd love to throw a few good fucks into your tight, eager holes, I won't have you and your magics spoil this night." With that, he turned and strode away, his laughter echoing through the chamber as Ali's fate was sealed.

"Do it now...slaves..." Jafar hissed, watching as the guards carried out his command. He stood there, observing the scene unfold before him, his arousal growing with each passing moment.

The guards dragged him towards a dark, foreboding pool of water, their faces blank and unfeeling. Panic surged through Ali as they forced him to the edge, his struggles futile against their iron grip. His hat, which contained the genie lamp was so far away from his body now that his weakened body might never reach it. He knew that this was the end – Jafar had won, and there was nothing he could do to save himself or Jasmine.

As the icy water enveloped him, Prince Ali's mind raced with thoughts of Jasmine and the love they had shared. He hoped that somehow, she would find the strength to endure what awaited her at the hands of the vile Jafar...

"Look at you all," Jafar sneered, "sworn to protect Agrabah, yet so easily swayed by my influence." His hypnotic cobra staff seemed to come alive in his hand, its eyes glowing menacingly. "Your loyalty is a fragile thing, isn't it?"

"Jafar, I... I don't know what came over me," Razoul stammered, struggling to resist the strange, magnetic pull of Jafar's presence. He had just murdered. Razoul had just murdered an honored guest of the Sultan, such a thing goes against all his values and beliefs. The other guards looked on, their minds already succumbing to his sinister allure, "That was...the law..."

With the guards disposing of Prince Ali's body, Jafar's arousal surged. He turned to Razoul, his twisted grin widening as he approached the captain of the palace guards. "My dear whore," Jafar taunted, his voice dripping with venom as he circled the trembling man.

"Please, Master... Don't call me that..." Razoul whimpered, unable to resist the intoxicating musk that emanated from Jafar's body, “And not in front of my men…”

"You had one duty, Razoul – protect this kingdom," Jafar scolded, his eyes gleaming dangerously. "Yet here you are, groveling at my feet, while I corrupt it with every passing moment."

Razoul's mind struggled to resist Jafar's control, even as his body betrayed him. The memories flooded back – all the times Jafar had used him, manipulated him, and controlled him with his hypnotic power.

As Razoul listened to Jafar's twisted words, memories of his manipulation flooded his mind. How many times had he fallen victim to Jafar's seductive wiles? He remembered the first time Jafar tricked him into looking at his powerful Cobra staff, making Razoul unable to resist Jafar's advances. Then there was the time he'd been forced to betray his fellow guards, leading them into a trap that had only served to strengthen Jafar's hold over them all. Soon, he'd ignored Jasmine's suspicious behavior, failing to see moments where she'd been under Jafar's spell, in small and minor ways. Then there were the times Jafar had taken advantage of the Sultan himself in his model room, forcing Razoul to stand guard outside the chamber as his ruler cried out in pain and pleasure. With each memory, Razoul's shame grew, but so did his desire for Jafar's touch. He was an addict now.

Each time, Razoul had sworn to himself that it would be the last, that he would find the strength to resist Jafar's dark allure. But every time, his resolve crumbled in the face of that intoxicating musk and the promise of pleasure it brought.

"Your futile attempts to defy me are amusing, Razoul," Jafar taunted, reading the turmoil in the captain's eyes. "But deep down, you know you're helpless against me. I am the law! You're nothing more than a pawn in my twisted game...a thick ass for me to sheath with my cock while I wait to strike at sexier targets."

"Jasmine... she'll...you can't...," Razoul choked out, clinging to the belief that somehow, the princess could escape Jafar's clutches.

"Ah, but she will," Jafar replied, his voice dripping with malice. "And when I've broken her spirit and made her mine, I'll be sure to remind her of how you failed to protect her."

"Let me show you how deep my power extends now!" Jafar commanded, his voice cutting through the air like a knife.

Jafar's wicked grin stretched across his face as he addressed his loyal guards, now fully under his hypnotic control. "Now, my obedient servants," he purred, "I want you all to show me just how much you adore your true master..."

He raised his staff, its ruby eyes flashing with malevolent power. The guards' expressions shifted from fearful uncertainty to utter devotion, their resistance crumbling beneath Jafar's overwhelming presence.

"Your desires betray you," he continued, his voice dripping with disdain. "You all ache for my touch, for my control. Beg for it, and perhaps I shall grant it."

He locked eyes with each guard, one by one, his hypnotic powers seeping into their minds, making them admit their darkest desires for him. The once-proud defenders of Agrabah now whimpered at his feet, unable to resist the overwhelming urge to please him.

"Touch yourselves," Jafar ordered, his voice dripping with lustful intent. The guards obeyed without question, their hands moving to grope at their own bodies, seeking release under Jafar's control. The scene before him fueled his desire for power, his cock throbbing with anticipation.

"Now...Jerk off for Jafar!"

The guards, unable to resist his command, reached down and began stroking themselves, desperate whimpers and moans filling the air. Razoul, torn between his duty and his overwhelming desire for Jafar, hesitated only a moment before succumbing to the powerful aphrodisiac of Jafar's musk.

"Please, Master Jafar," one guard begged, his voice thick with lust, "allow us to worship you properly."

"Oh Please, please Jafar," one guard moaned, his voice barely audible over the chorus of ruffled fabric and heavy breathing. "Let us serve you... let us please you."

"Ah, music to my ears," Jafar replied, his grin widening as he watched the display before him. "Soon, everyone in Agrabah will know what I have personally taught you all...that the true, powerful Sultan of this land is irresistible...they all beg to be enslaved to me, stroking themselves to the mere thought of serving their one true Sultan."

"Stroke your pitiful cocks," Jafar commanded, his voice dripping with disdain and arousal, "and imagine what it will be like when I claim Princess Jasmine as my own. The warmth of her body pressed against mine, her cries of submission as she succumbs to my power..."

As the guards continued to stroke, their eyes glazed over with pure adoration for their twisted master, Jafar reveled in the scene before him. It was time to break these men completely, to ensure that they would never defy him again.

"Soon, all of Agrabah – men and women alike – will be enslaved to me, Sultan Jafar! You'll all bow before me, begging to serve, to stroke, to offer up every last shred of dignity and self-worth just to please me!"

Razoul shuddered, torn between the need to resist Jafar's evil plan and the undeniable erotic thrill that surged through him at the thought of complete submission. He stroked himself faster, cursing his own weakness even as he succumbed to Jafar's hypnotic power.

The guards, driven wild by Jafar's dark fantasies, began to beg more fervently, their hands moving faster and faster as they neared the edge, looking up at their dark master, a man they now viewed as a sexual god on earth. "Please, Master Jafar, let us serve you! Let us be your devoted slaves forever!"

As the symphony of desperate strokes and pleading words continued, Razoul couldn't help but be repulsed by the scene before him. The part of him that still clung to hope screamed at him to stop, to fight back against Jafar's twisted influence. But the scent of Jafar's musk was too strong, and Razoul found himself reaching down, his hand wrapping around his own throbbing length.

"Pathetic," Jafar hissed, turning away from the mulling guards one by one, dismissing them as they shook their cocks, getting off to his erotic powers before him, "You are supposed to protect this kingdom, and yet here you all stand, helpless before me." He stepped closer, his hot breath caressing Razoul's ear as he whispered, "keep stroking…think of me, and all my power…and keep stroking your pathetic cock…you fucking whore."

Razoul shuddered, his heart aching with despair. He tried to fight the images that Jafar planted in his mind – Jasmine's body writhing beneath him, her breasts heaving with each stolen breath, her voice crying out in surrender – but they clung to him like a dark shroud, suffocating him.

As Jafar continued his erotic speech, the guards' moans and pleas grew louder, their strokes more frantic. It was clear that they were all close to the edge, teetering on the brink between pleasure and utter submission.

"Please, Master Jafar... let us cum for you," a guard begged, his voice trembling with need.

Jafar grinned wickedly as he watched the guards writhe in pleasure beneath his command. He had robbed them of their will to think and act for themselves, and reduced them to slaves of his own perverted desires. He held them firmly in the grip of his powerful magic, and he reveled in the knowledge that he could make them do whatever he wanted. He let his gaze almost caress each of them in turn, their faces twisted in helpless passion as their cocks strained to burst from their confinement…for him and him alone. He knew full well what was going through their minds, and enjoyed their desperate need to come for him. Jafar moved closer to them, mockery in his every word as he taunted them.

"Please, Master Jafar," Razoul gasped, his voice barely audible. "I can't take it any longer."

"Ah, Razoul," Jafar purred, tracing one finger around the guard's flushed face. "You were so defiant once, so eager to protect the Princess. How fitting that you now beg for my touch."

Jafar, his eyes locked onto Razoul's desperate expression, smirked as he observed the guard's trembling fingers gripping his own throbbing arousal. The once proud captain of the palace guards had been brought to his knees, moaning and begging for release.

Razoul's heart raced, torn between fear and arousal as Jafar's words slithered through his mind like venomous snakes. He wanted to resist, but the relentless onslaught of Jafar's hypnotic power left him helpless.

"Please, Master Jafar," Razoul whimpered, his hand moving faster, "punish me for my insolence. Show me my true place beneath your feet."

"Ha!" Jafar barked out a cruel laugh, stepping back to survey the scene before him. His guards, all under his control, continued to stroke themselves, their eyes glazed over with lust and adoration. "You truly are pathetic, aren't you? Reduced to begging for my touch, my approval."

His dark gaze swept across the room, watching as each guard reached the brink of ecstasy, only to have it snatched away by Jafar's command.

"None of you shall find release until I say so," Jafar declared, his voice firm and commanding. "And when I do, you'll know that it was your submission to me that brought you this pleasure. You'll crave it, need it... and it will consume you."

He turned his attention back to Razoul, who struggled to hold back his impending orgasm as he teetered on the edge of surrender.

"More, Master. Please," Razoul panted, his mind clouded by lust as he twerked his big, mighty ass in front of Jafar. His strong body trembled with need, aching for the pleasure that only Jafar could provide.

"Ha," Jafar sneered, watching the once-proud captain degrade himself further. "You're desperate, aren't you? You want me to fuck you and make you feel complete."

"Y-yes, please, Master," Razoul gasped out between breaths, his face flushed with humiliation and desire.

"Pathetic," Jafar scoffed, taking a step back, his eyes never leaving Razoul's gyrating form. "But I'm afraid I won't be indulging your pitiful fantasies tonight."

"Wh-what?" Razoul stammered, his heart sinking at the denial.

"Didn't you hear, my dear captain?" Jafar taunted, his voice dripping with malice. "I've been saving my energy for something far more... exquisite." He licked his lips, savoring the anticipation. "Princess Jasmine will soon be mine to control and fuck."

Razoul's eyes widened in horror as he processed Jafar's words. Jasmine, the princess he had sworn to protect, was to become Jafar's plaything. The very thought made his stomach churn, but deep down, he couldn't deny the twisted arousal it stirred within him.

"That's right," Jafar continued, his voice low and sultry. "She's been primed and ready after her little rendezvous with Prince Ali. It's the perfect time to strike, to claim what I desire most... And when I do, you and every other man in Agrabah will bear witness to her submission, knowing that a man much more powerful than you took her virginity with his big, powerful, divine cock."

"Please... please..." Razoul whimpered, torn between his duty to the kingdom and his craving for Jafar's dominance. His body betrayed him, responding eagerly to Jafar's sinister plans.

"Very well," he said, "I will grant your wish. But know this, Razoul… you cannot escape me. I have conquered your mind and body, and I will have my way with you in the end. Until then, you will serve me as my loyal guard." He snapped his fingers, and the guards all melted into a state of mindless ecstasy. Jafar laughed as he watched them, relishing the pleasure of watching their cocks strain for release.

"My my," Jafar said, a sardonic grin playing across his lips. "Look at you all. Pathetic, aren't you? Begging and pleading to be at my mercy…to be broken by your rightful leader's cock…so easily controlled. It's ridiculous.

"You can't even control your own body anymore. It's mine, and I can do with it what I please. And tell it to become my sex slave, humping the night air thinking of your master’s cock…how much greater, girthier and worthier it is than your own…then so it shall be." Razoul couldn't help but moan at Jafar's words, his body trembling with need. The other guards were in the same state, all of them desperate to satisfy their craving, but all of them unable to do anything without Jafar's permission. Jafar just laughed at their plight, mocking them for their weakness.

"You are all pathetic," He said. "But I suppose it’s not your fault. Men can’t help but quake before their superiors. And look at me, look at me with those horny, broken little minds. Am I not, in every possible way, your superior?." Razoul shivered, his cock throbbing and begging for release, his ass quaked, begging to be impaled by Jafar’s masterful cock. Jafar was so superior…everything about the tall, evil man made his cock burst with need.

He wanted to beg Jafar for more, but he knew better than to try and defy the evil sorcerer. "But," Jafar continued. "I have other business to attend to. Perhaps some other time I will come back and take my pleasure with you all. Until then," He paused, taking a moment to savor the look of despair and want on the faces of the guards.

"Moan the name of the man...the Sultan...who has conquered you all."

Razoul and the other guards moaned in unison, chanting the name of their conqueror:

"Jafar, Jafar, Praise Sultan Jafar!" they exploded, like pathetic little boys because that was what Jafar demanded of them. They yielded so deeply for their new Sultan. He wanted them and now they were enslaved to his very will.

With a satisfied smirk, Jafar turned his back and walked away, leaving the guards to their own devices, and their own cocks, surging with cum as he dismissed them as nothing but his willing thralls.

As the last guard reached his peak, Jafar turned his gaze towards the palace. Jasmine awaited him there, her defiant spirit standing between him and ultimate control. He would break her, bend her to his will, and ensure that Agrabah belonged to him alone. His cock was so hard, he took the life of a Prince, and those he controlled to do so came so hard, begging his name knowing that he could have taken anything he wanted from countless men…all that energy, that frustration, was finally going into the most beautiful pussy in Agrabah.

"Now get off, clean yourselves...my sex slaves, and find your posts…soon you’ll be able to scream your devotions in front of the entire kingdom…" Jafar commanded, and the men quickly scrambled to their feet, as if on command. Their bodies still throbbing with pleasure, they quickly shuffled off, leaving Jafar alone in his hardened power, "after all, I have a bride to claim."

Chapter Text

"Jasmine?" She turned to look at her father. She blushed,and moved towards him. She was in blue, and she was in love for the first time. Her beautiful, perfect, hourglass form bounced with an excitement she had never known before.

"Father. I just had the most wonderful time. I'm so happy!"

"You should be, Jasmine. I have chosen a husband for you."

Jasmine stopped in her tracks, and felt a cold chill run up her spine. Her father continued to stand there, unmoving, his face a disturbing glaze. Why did he look like that, she wondered?

"What?" she whispered. Her father continued,

"You will wed Jafar."

With this declaration, the second double door opened, with the grotesque Royal Vizier standing behind it. Jasmine couldn't contain her shock and look of total revulsion at the odious beetle. She hated the leer on his face as he approached her,

"You're speechless I see." he grinned, "A fine quality in a wife." Jafar reached up to grab her arm, but the forthright princess yanked it away. She reached out to her father, who continued to have a dumbfounded look on his face,"But Father! I choose Prince Ali!" Jasmine cried. Without missing a beat the imposing Vizier responded,

"Prince Ali…left!"

She turned back to him in anger. The way he said it, it was like he was certain.

Ali was not about to burst into her chambers, and save her from whatever perverted thing this was.

"Really Princess?! Consorting with men without supervision? Besides, Prince Abubu was not worthy to bed you. Not like I am… Don't you agree, your majesty?"

As he said this, Jasmine could have sworn Jafar held his serpentine staff close to her father's eyes, as though the snake-head and Sultan were staring off with one another. Her father murmured blankly, "Yes, yes, Jafar…far more worthy to... to..."

"To bed your daughter?" Jafar hissed. The Sultan shook his head, unable to answer…but compliant with his vizier’s rude remarks. Jasmine couldn't believe it! Jafar was trying to marry her off as though she were some kind of commodity. He had been trying to gain control of the throne for some time, and now this was his plan to gain it? Her heart raced, and she summoned all of her courage to reject him.

"No, Jafar! You’re…you’re twisted! I will not marry you. I choose who I will wed, and it will never be you!" she declared, her voice firm. Jafar stared at her incredulously before a wave of anger swept over his eyes, and he began to laugh mockingly.

"You think you have a say in this? A princess has no say. Your father has already agreed. The deal is done. Come, Princess...come before me...everything will be fine...."

Those words echoed through Jasmine’s bedroom, reverberating off the cold marble walls. Jasmine's heart dropped into her stomach as her gaze shifted to Jafar. The sinister smirk on his face revealed his pleasure at finally having what he wanted. Resisting the Sultan's orders, Jasmine tried to stand tall, her every movement emphasizing her lithe curves…the curves Jafar had been drooling over all her life, making Jasmine feel more like a prized mare than the Princess of Agrabah.

"No, I won't do it," Jasmine said, her voice trembling. She backed away, “I don’t know what’s wrong with my father, but I am the rightful heir to this Kingdom. When the people see what you’ve done to him…it will finally be your end, you twisted…son of a whore!”

Jafar simply laughed.

"Do you really think you can get away from me, Princess?" Jafar asked, waving his staff in her direction. The staff seemed to hum with dark energy. Jafar stepped closer to her, his dark eyes twinkling with amusement.

A wave of Jafar's staff engulfed Jasmine’s willpower, and before she knew it she felt her body move…while standing impossibly still, In her mind she was dancing, her hips swaying in an enticing rhythm, just as the sorcerer above her desired her to move.

But Jafar, and Iago only wanted more. "Come, give your hubby a nice, big, wet kiss," Iago teased, and Jasmine's body tensed.

She attempted to resist again, her voice filled with urgency and desperation. "No! Stop this! I won't do it!"

But Jafar just smiled his sinister smile, his eyes gleaming, a red power emanating from his pupils. "But, my dear Jasmine," he said calmly, "it seems like your Father here wishes for it…and his mere wish…is law." The Sultan nodded slowly, a blank expression on his face.

Jasmine looked around desperately, but there was no one to hear her cries for help.

Jafar felt powerful as he watched Jasmine, mesmerized beneath him. He ran his eyes down her body, tracing her curves, the curves the older man had long memorized and masturbated to, as he whispered in her ear, “You have no idea how long I’ve yearned for this moment…pussycat. Yessss…it is divine, I have been chosen to remove your vaunted independence. You'll still be here, still a part of Agrabah...but under my rule!"

“Never!" she spat, fighting the red power around her, "You will never have my hand…you will never have my heart."

That only made Jafar's grin grow wider.

"Ah, but I already do…your mind just hasn’t realized it yet." He reached down and grabbed her chin, forcing her to look up at him. Her skin was so soft, and it was breathing shallow breaths just for him now, "Iago, show Jasmine what happens if she, or her useless, broken father ever dares to question me."

Iago chuckled and flew onto the Sultan's shoulder. Jafar ran his fingers through Jasmine's hair as a warning and motioned for Iago to begin. Iago leaned in closely to Jasmine's father and began to chant the words he wanted to hear.

"I am Sultan Jafar's cock whore," he said, looking the man squarely in the eyes.

The Sultan's eyes blankly repeated the words. "I am Sultan Jafar's cock whore," he said in a mechanical manner.

Iago continued the chant- "I am Sultan Jafar's cock whore". The Sultan blindly repeated the words, each one burning Jasmine's ears like a branding iron.

"I am Sultan Jafar's cock whore," The Sultan continued. It was beginning to sound like a moan.

Tears welled up in her eyes and ran down her cheeks as the Sultan continued to parrot the phrase over and over. Jafar and Iago were laughing. Jasmine wanted to break free and scream, to shatter Jafar's spell with her words. She was not going to fall, but if she ran away, they might hurt her beloved father, who seemed so weak compared to the cold and calculating Jafar.

"Your father indeed knows his place," Iago cackled. Jafar only nodded and smiled with satisfaction.

"No," she said, her voice determined. "You may think you've taken control, but I will fight against you every step of the way. I will not let you take away the bright future I envisioned for my kingdom, or all my people. I will never accept being your possession."

Iago cackled in delight as he watched, his eyes glinting with malicious glee. "Oh, Jafar, you’re right! She’s way stronger than all those other weak little minds you fucked. I'm sure you'll have plenty of fun with her," he said. Turning to the Sultan, he sneered. "You'd better be a good boy, too, or else Jafar will make sure that he fucks both of you whenever he pleases!"

The Sultan whispered in mesmerized terror. “Fucks both of us whenever he pleases!"

“That’s right!” Jafar exclaimed, his voice dripping with menace. He began to drone a sinister laugh that only seemed to increase the Sultan’s terror. “your fat, fucking fool if a father fell so easily...he let me into your Kingdom...your palace...your family…”

The chambers of the palace seemed to fill with thick, smoky mist. Jasmine's body began to feel heavy, and her eyes slowly grew heavy and she lost consciousness. Jafar's voice seemed to float through the air like a whisper, "And after so long, putting him in his place, I finally have the means to take the one thing I wanted…the one thing I craved."

She would not yield to Jafar. Not now…not now that she had finally, finally found true love and a path to an honorable life. Her will was too strong, it was hard to focus with the pulsing Rubies of Jafar’s staff. But she knew what he was trying to do. She knew how to resist, to bide her time until one of her Servants, or guards checked in on her…or until she found a weapon to take the greasy man’s life herself.

“Your eyes are quickly glazing over, Jasmine, as you find yourself listening intently to my every word. Your heart is racing and your arousal is increasing as my voice begins to wash over you like an enticing wave.”

She could not move. But that did not stop her from holding out hope. Prince Ali had shown her a whole new world. He would save her. He must save her. Jafar might control her body, but her will, her devotion was hers to command.

"You are becoming more and more relaxed as I reveal my desires for you. You can feel the heat radiating through your body, awakening your deepest desires and desires for submission. Your skin is tingling and your loins are aching, as I describe my lust for you, your beauty, and my plans to conquer and rule Agrabah.”

“Never…” Jasmine moaned, “Never…I’ll never…give you, Agrabah.”

“No?” Jafar laughed, “Why not? If you won't give me your lust, your devotion, then tell me, who has taken it from you, Princess?"

"Ali, Prince Ali." Jasmine said before she could stop herself. "He has shown me a whole...a whole new world...he is perfect...handsome...magical..."

"Yes," Jafar said softly, seductively swaying his staff until Jasmine's whole body was in perfect rhythm with him. She needed to escape the red of his rubies, but her body was too obedient to its sways now.

Jafar's dark eyes gleamed with malicious intent as he stood before the beautiful Princess Jasmine, her father, the Sultan, trapped in a helpless stupor by his side. "You think I don't know about your feelings for Prince Ali?" he sneered, his voice dripping with venom. "Your naïve infatuation is pathetic."

Her heart racing, Jasmine tried to resist the cold fear that threatened to consume her. She backed away from Jafar, defiant even in the face of danger. "You're a monster!" she spat, trembling.

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong, my dear." Jafar raised his hypnotic cobra staff, its jeweled eyes glowing menacingly. "You see, I've been preparing you for this moment. I've 'fattened' you up with Ali's love," he said, his gaze lingering on Jasmine's ample breasts. "Now, your inexperienced horniness is so present in your mind that I can easily control you with it."

"Your words won't break me," Jasmine whispered, trying to suppress the mounting desire within her.

"Words? Oh, no. This isn't about words." Jafar's lips curled into a wicked smile as he began to chant, his hypnotic powers weaving through Jasmine's psyche, slowly intensifying her attraction towards him and erasing any lingering thoughts of Prince Ali, "This is about taking your lust for that street rat, the lust I nurtured, and just moving it towards the only man...worthy of your heat and passion."

"Stop," she pleaded, her mind struggling against the unseen force. But as much as she wanted to resist, she could feel her body betraying her - the warmth spreading through her chest, the tingling sensation in her nipples as they hardened beneath her silk gown.

"Embrace it, Jasmine," Jafar taunted, his voice a seductive whisper in her ear. "You know you want me."

"Never," she choked out, tears forming in her eyes as her inner turmoil tore at her heart.

"Ah, but your body says otherwise." Jafar's dark gaze roamed over her heaving breasts, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. "You're mine now, Princess. And there's nothing you can do to stop it."

"And now, I am transferring all those feelings of love and lust...to me..." His voice grew more intense as he cast a powerful hypnotic spell, “Everything you felt for that young prince...that streetrat, when I snap my fingers, will be felt for me--and me alone.”

With a final snap of his fingers, Jasmine felt a wave of emotions wash over her. She began to move under her own powers. But to her horror, as she looked up towards Jafar, she realized that this man was something new to her. She was filled with excitement; an excitement that never belonged to him before. A feeling of need…a need for Jafar filled her veins. Jasmine couldn't help but feel helpless, and forever indebted to Jafar...as though he had taken her up into the stars... and made her feel a want she never knew she had.

"Why? Why do I feel…" Jasmine breathed out.

Jafar began to laugh as he circled her. "You love me now, my dear. I command it to be so."

Jasmine's heart pounded, her chest heaving as she fought against the twisted emotions Jafar had forced upon her. But despite her fear and revulsion, an undeniable longing surged through her veins.

"Look at you," Jafar sneered, his eyes narrowing with dark satisfaction. "Confused and afraid, yet unable to resist me."

"Stay away from me," Jasmine whispered, her words feeble under the weight of her newfound desire.

"Ah, but you don't really want that, do you?" Jafar stepped closer, his breath hot against her cheek. "I can feel your hunger, Princess...your desperate need for me."

"Please," Jasmine begged, tears streaming down her face. "Don't do this."

"Too late for that." Jafar cupped her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. "You're mine now, Jasmine."

Despite the terror screaming inside her, Jasmine found herself leaning into Jafar's touch, her lips tingling with anticipation. The urge to kiss him was so powerful, so all-consuming, that she couldn't fight it any longer.

Closing her eyes, she pressed her trembling lips against his, the very act betraying her heart. Jafar's mouth was firm and demanding, his tongue probing and possessive as it explored her own. In her mind, now warped and twisted by the loathsome royal vizier,it was the greatest kiss she could ever imagine…it was magic…and she wanted more…

"Such passion," Jafar murmured between kisses, amusement etched in his cruel features. "Who knew the sweet little princess had such fire within her?"

Jasmine hated herself for the pleasure she took in his words, even as she deepened their kiss, her body craving more. She barely recognized herself, so completely consumed by the perverted love Jafar had implanted within her.

"See how devoted you are to me now?" Jafar taunted, his fingers entwining in her thick, raven hair. "You thought it was Prince Ali who won your heart, but it was always meant to be mine."

"it's...it's impossible," Jasmine tried to choke out, but her voice was lost in the heat of their passionate embrace, her body betraying her words, looking at the Royal Vizier she had always despised, as the only man able to take her...and to ignite her with his passion…

In one lustful kiss, Jafar’s perversion transformed into lust. His cruelty transformed into strength, his arrogance became a confidence that turned Jasmine’s virgin pussy on so much it gushed like the nile. Jafar was evil, Jasmine had always known Jafar was a sick, twisted evil man…but now that Jafar was inside her mind that evil was so sxy…so dominant…so worthy of worship…

And as Jafar reveled in his victory, his wicked laughter echoing through the halls, Jasmine's soul shattered, leaving her with nothing but the searing need for a man she knew would destroy her.

"You can feel yourself slipping further and further away as I speak, drifting into my magical trance. You will no longer deny who you were meant to be, my willing captive, bowed before me in submission, watching with eager eyes as I rule Agrabah from my powerful throne.”

He was so…magical. The way Jafar stood above her…dominated her…

"My every word is like a hammer gently pounding away at the notions of intelligence and morality that have been drilled into you your whole life, until lewd and lustful thoughts begin to pervade your mind. You can feel yourself quivering with pleasure as I promise you pleasure and satisfaction beyond belief, and the freedom to explore your sexuality without shame.”

She did quiver…she did lust. This older man, who had skulked through her father’s palace…he held such control over her now. Jasmine moaned. She did not want to…but she moaned for Jafar, just as she had for a young boy mere moments ago, who she planned to give her heart to, who faded from her mind as Jafar’s words dominated her every thought.

“You become more and more aroused, Princess, willingly and eagerly accepting your fate as my beautiful prize. Your days will be filled with endless sexual pleasure, each night pleasure without restraint. No longer will you be the proud Princess, but instead a toy for my own repugnant pleasure.”

It was all horrifying. But Jasmine loved Jafar. She was eager for Jafar now. As the cruel man told her all of his dark wants, Jasmine forced herself to love every idea, every dark, twisted fantasy this savage with a powerful golden staff demanded of her…hissed at her…

"You will be addicted to my body, addicted to giving me, the man you desperately love, your prized flesh, and you will never be able to escape my tantalizing caresses. You will come to live, sleep and breathe with only one thought in mind: my cock and my pleasure. With each touch you will tremble with delight, as my hands and mouth explore your body. Until finally, completely at my mercy, you succumb to my will and become my slut and my queen."

Jasmine heard Jafar's words and felt shocked at the explicit thoughts that began to creep into her mind. She gasped in appalled horror as she started to envision herself on her knees before him, worshiping and honoring his body and eagerly taking his hard, powerful cock into her mouth. His domination of her filled her with dread and excitement at the same time, and she trembled as her mind filled with forbidden images of her future with him.

Though she was disgusted by the thoughts, she couldn't deny the sensations of pleasure that grew with each passing word. He was her whole new world, she loved him, and her body ached for his touch and her mouth watered in anticipation of tasting his manliness. She blushed deeply and felt a heat come over her body, and she knew that he had her in the palm of his hand.

She looked into Jafar's eyes and felt a sense of awe and reverence for him and all of his wicked powers. She remembered a beautiful, powerful, magical kiss from minutes ago…gone was the younger face of a kind boy, all she wanted now was Jafar’s touch. The sensation was the same, Jafar just wielded it better. She knew that she no longer had any say in who she belonged to, and that her future was in his hands, no matter how painful that future might be.

Her heart raced in anticipation as she thought about his big, powerful cock. She imagined the incredible pleasure and satisfaction that awaited her as his member filled her tight walls. She trembled in delight as the thought of his body pleasuring hers filled her mind, no longer Jasmine the Princess, but rather Jasmine the willing and eager slave to Jafar, the powerful sorcerer.

Jafar laughed, releasing Jasmine from his dark gaze. "It looks like you cannot resist your fate, Princess Jasmine. You will soon wed me and this kingdom will be under my rule." He looked her up and down, ardently admiring her beauty. "You will learn to love me. And I will be the one who you look to for guidance, love and adoration. You will forget all about that foolish Prince Ali."

Without her realizing it, she found herself nodding in agreement. Jafar moved closer to Jasmine, pressing his body against hers. She could feel his muscles through his clothing, and the heat from his body was intense. He ran his hands up her arms, caressing the bare skin beneath her temples. His touch was electrifying as his hands moved slowly and deliberately up and down her body…to no resistance from the stubborn Arabian princess.

Jafar leaned in close, and she could feel his breath on her ear as he spoke. "It was so simple, so easy. And now, you will be my princess, and I, your Sultan." He trailed off as he ran his fingertips down the side of her face, and she could feel his presence and power suffocating her.

"Look at you, Jasmine," Jafar sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "You're nothing more than a plaything for my amusement."

Jafar trailed his fingers down her spine, making her shiver in spite of herself. His touch was cold and calculated, but it ignited a fire within her that she couldn't suppress.

"Please," she whispered, hating the desperation in her voice. "Stop this..."

"Ah, but I've only just begun," Jafar replied with a cruel smile, leaning down to lick a slow, deliberate path around her breast. The sensation sent a jolt of electricity through her, and she whimpered in response as Jafar claimed her sexy breasts, a lifetime of waiting for them to bloom and fill out for him and only him to enjoy.

"See? You can't help but beg for more," he taunted, punctuating his words with a firm spank to her large rear. Jasmine gasped, both from the sting of the slap and the shameful thrill it sent coursing through her veins.

"Now...move for me," Jafar ordered, his voice cold and commanding as he pulled away from their heated embrace. "Show me what belongs to me."

Jasmine hesitated, her heart hammering in her chest, but the fire within her - the desire that Jafar had fueled - wouldn't allow her to resist. Resigned, she stepped back, and slowly began to dance, submitting to Jafar's orders. She trembled as she began to remove her clothes, each discarded piece leaving her more vulnerable and exposed, as she moved her erotic body for the man she could not resist, her broken father, and a kingdom that now meant less to her than obeying an old man who wanted her stripped and defiled for him.

"Slowly," Jafar instructed, his gaze predatory as he watched her every move. "Make it a show worthy of your new master."

Each word was a dagger, but Jasmine couldn't fight the compulsion to obey him. Overcome by a hypnotic trance, she slowly began to undress for her captor. With trembling hands, she first removed her royal blue dress, revealing her delicate curves hidden under the garments. With deliberate care, she peeled away the layers of blue silk and gold, revealing the flawless, sun-kissed skin beneath. Her full breasts swayed gently with each movement, drawing Jafar's hungry eyes. As the fabric pooled around her feet, Jasmine felt a thrill run through her body, savoring the salacious attention of the man before her…she hated that she wanted him, but her body burst into erotic gyrations, teasing him that she was his.

The mesmerized sultan, his eyes glazed with Jafar’s spell, watched with a powerful hunger as the princess revealed her hidden beauty. His daughter, now captivated by the manipulative sorcery of her would-be husband, stood before him, her body both seductive and inviting…she was yielding to Jafar just as the vile man had told him she would, night after night, when Jafar sheathed his massive cock inside of him, preparing for his moment that he was powerless to stop. Now, he could only breath watching his beautiful daughter debase herself before his Vizier.

"Temptress. You surpass the dreams I've had of you. Now you are mine, forever." Jafar said, his words echoing in the silent room.

Jafar’s voice now had a deeper, more dangerous edge as he stepped closer towards her. She could feel a shiver of fear and longing ripple through her. He bent down close to her ear and whispered softly,

“You are nothing but a depraved slut, Jasmine; a disgrace to your station and your people.”

Jasmine felt the sting of his words, but found herself unable to respond; the spell of the serpent’s glare still apparent in her eyes. As Jafar’s hand brushed against her chin, he leaned in and commanded her,

“Now, show your husband the devotion he deserves. Kiss me.”

Though a wave of revulsion wreaked havoc in her heart, she yielded to the power of the hypnotic spell, pressing her lips gently against Jafar’s. She wanted to resist, but her hypnotic state left her powerless to do anything but obey and respond to Jafar’s dark lusts. So she reluctantly moved closer to Jafar, her heart racing as his face moved closer to hers. The embrace intensified, as Jasmine’s lips moved hungrily against Jafar’s. Lost in the trance of the sorcerer’s power, her mind seemed to have become attuned to the subservience he desired of her. In the back of her mind, she knew she should struggle, but some unknown instinct drove her to remain still. Without warning, Jafar’s hands moved to her waist, pulling her close and deepening his conquest of Princess Jasmine’s mouth and tongue.

He was in complete control and Jasmine found herself enjoying every second of it. His fingertips seemed to take an inventory of her body, exploring and memorizing her, and the feeling was incredibly pleasurable. Jasmine felt her senses become completely overwhelmed. She found herself yearning for the very thing she so recently despised; to be the willing slave of Jafar, under his hypnotic spell. Clinging to him, she melted further into the embrace, the kiss becoming ever more passionate as all sense of her former identity seemed to fade away.

Jafar's mouth pressed harder against hers, tasting her and taking her in. In his grasp, Jasmine felt a warmth rising in her body, a heat that was both thrilling and terrifying.

Jafar now moved his hands all over her; feeling her curves and her soft skin. With every movement, Jasmine felt her body quiver under his touch, her helplessness inexplicably exciting her.

"Do you like your new master, princess?" Jafar hissed in her ear, his hands still caressing her naked body.

Jasmine felt her head nodding in response, her eyes still glazed with a mixture of lust and subjugation. She felt completely enslaved by Jafar, her body trembling for him and his whim, craving for nothing more than his attention and pleasure. She felt a sick thrill at her own submission, the pain of surrendering herself to this monster.

"Such a beautiful sight," Jafar mused, reaching out to cup one of her breasts. His touch was surprisingly gentle, but the intent behind it was anything but. "And all mine."

"Please," Jasmine whispered, her voice strained with desperation. "Please...."

"Your pleas are meaningless, Princess," Jafar sneered, his fingers tightening around her breast. "You belong to me now, in every way possible. I’ve made you such a perfect toy," Jafar murmured, his fingers teasing and tormenting her body, his hand sliding down her side to grip her hip. "And so eager to please."

As he continued to degrade her, Jasmine's mind raced, searching for any chance of escape. But with each touch, each whispered word of control, she felt her resolve slipping away, replaced by the sickening realization that she was powerless to resist him.

"Remember this moment, Princess," Jafar hissed, his eyes locked on hers as he claimed her body and soul. "This is what true power feels like."

Jafar leaned in to savagely take her mouth with his own again. With the ruthless passion of his lips, Jasmine found it increasingly difficult to deny the pleasure he was giving her. She felt herself arching her body towards him, an unwilling accomplice in his game, and heard herself moaning as his touch brought her closer and closer to her peak.

Jafar’s tender touch soon began to reveal its intensity, as his lips grew hungrier for the princess. His hand moved from her chin to her shoulders, his fingers tracing and caressing her body with an unavoidable allure. Jasmine felt her resistance faltering, unable to tell the difference between fear and desire.

Jafar’s hands now ventured lower, grazing over her already aroused body. With a sharp intake of breath Jasmine felt a spark ignite between them. She found herself pressing closer to Jafar, hungering for more of his touch.

He brought his hand to the small of her back, pulling her body closer to him. His hand moved south, and he had wanted to do night after night, fight after fight with this stubborn Princess, he caressed the roundness of her ass. Tempestuous heat surged through her veins as their passionate embrace intensified.

Jafar brought his face closer to hers, a note of triumph in his voice as he whispered, “Yes my Princess…I’ve always wanted to do…this….”

He grabbed the firmness of her ass, squeezing it painfully. Jasmine couldn’t help but moan despite herself. His touch only stoked the fire that threatened to consume her, and in a moment of unabashed submission, she begged him,

“Yes, touch…touch me.”

Jafar smiled devilishly as he brought his hand to spank her – a sign of his power and dominance over her. His touch sent a wave of pleasure through her body, and Jasmine craved more.

"Mmm...that's better, my pet." Jafar teased with a satisfied grin, and her heart raced with excitement as she looked up into his eyes.

Her hands glided effortlessly over the velvet contours of his cloak, and without warning, she pushed her body up even more closely, her big breasts caressing Jafar’s skin. At last, Jafar pulled away, satisfied with her display…her subjugation.

“You learn quickly, Princess. ” he said.

Jafar, triumphant, turned and addressed the mind-shackled Sultan, spinning his boney hands through her beautiful raven hair possessively…showing her and her father he could. The black of Jasmine’s hair would shimmer as Jafar’s blue diamond could be seen as he played with her.

“Yes...your daughter is now mine for good, to do with and enjoy as I please…”

He then looked back at a now trembling Jasmine, and smiled, “Aren’t you, princess?” Your purpose now is to serve me, to fulfill my every desire," Jafar whispered into her ear, his breath hot against her skin. "Do you understand?"

As his hypnotic control tightened its grip on her emotions, she found herself nodding in agreement.

"Good," Jafar purred, his free hand sliding between her thighs. "Now, let's see how well you can please your new master."

Jafar slid his hands along Jasmine's curves, feeling the softness of her skin. He cupped one breast while grazing the other with his fingertips. They belonged to him now. No more hiding, no more scheming, no more satisfying his hunger with lesser slaves. No, now he wanted Jasmine’s tits so he grabbed them from his mind-fucked slave, and it elicited a moan from Jasmine's lips.

"Do you like that, pussycat?" he hissed. Her answering gasp told him of her pleasure, even before her head bobbed in agreement. She had never been touched like this by a man. In her mind she wanted Ali to do it. But now, having an older, experienced and aggressive man taking what he wanted…it made her moan with every touch.

He moved his hand lower, fingers dipping and stroking her innermost parts until she was quivering beneath him in uncontrollable pleasure. He took hold of her hips and brought her even closer to him, whispering smutty praises into her ear, growling his hunger for her in between heated caresses and kisses. Jafar ripped off the pieces of fabric covering his body, and Jasmine gasped as she felt his hard and rigid manhood press against her. Jafar grinned and said,

“Do you like what you see?” Jasmine felt her body on fire, and all she could do was nod, like a schoolgirl who wanted a treat.

"Look at me, princess," he said, firmly grabbing her chin and forcing her to look him in the eye. Jafar could see her desire reflected back at him, as if she were his to control, eager to obey, but desperate to get another look at that big cock. He smirked, then leaned in and spoke huskily in the ear of the woman, who just that morning, vowed to banish him from his kingdom. Jafar’s cock was hard and ready, knowing his power over her was now absolute.

"Do you want me to fuck you here and now…in front of your father?" Jasmine trembled at his words, her breathing becoming more and more ragged…but unable to resist the implicit command of the sorcerer that conquered her mind.

Jafar pushed Jasmine onto the floor, her delicious waist gyrated in anticipation of nis big, powerful cock. Jafar straddled her. Jasmine became a living toy for Jafar. Her tight ass and legs exposed to her new master as Jafar stepped behind her. Jafar grabbed her hips, those hips that teased him for years, and now he could thrust himself deep inside her…knowing she finally wanted it even more than him.

"It is time to show you how a real man handles his property,"

He ordered her toward the bed, positioning her on all fours like a submissive mare awaiting her stallion. Jasmine's heart raced, torn between fear and an unnerving longing to feel him inside her. And in her heat, her lust…her love for Jafar and his massive cock, her virgin mind feared that he would not take her…that she would be unworthy to give her man pleasure. So Jasmine lifted her ass higher for Jafar, she moaned and writhed…and then she begged:

"Take me," she breathed, hating herself for giving in to his dark desires. "Please...I need you."

"Yessss…you’ve always needed me…You are my sexy little slave…nothing more than a beautiful toy for me to ravish." He licked her neck and moved down, exploring her body as she moaned and groaned in pleasure beneath him. He smiled as her moans of pleasure and pain became more and more intense, and as she realized that his control and domination of her was making her even more aroused.

Jafar moved his hips, thrusting in and out of Jasmine’s body, thrusting harder each time. His cock felt so good inside her; she wanted more. He moved faster and harder, and Jasmine found herself arching her back, her breathing quickening, wanting to yield further as Jafar ravaged her virgin cunt with no hesitation. An intense orgasm ripped through her body.

"Your cock...it feels…amazing," Jasmine painted, her voice raw with need. In this twisted moment, she could not lie to the man who stole her love, and now ravished her, conquering her virginity.

"Of course it does, my dear," Jafar replied, smirking at the control he held over her. "And my big cock has been so hard for you…waiting to enter you as it always…by the gods yes…as it was always meant to do so."

As he continued to take her from behind, Jasmine's resistance crumbled, leaving her a willing participant in her own degradation. And as she succumbed to the dark embrace of Jafar's sinister power, she knew there would be no turning back. His big cock just felt so good. And though she hated to admit it, the independent Princess realized that she liked submitting to it. She was getting off, letting the man she loved use her.

Jasmine felt her pussy contracting around Jafar's hard cock, and she screamed in delight. Jasmine shuddered. Was his cock really this big and powerful, or was it the mesmerism? Wave after wave of pleasure pulsated through her body until finally it was too much for her.

“Cum for me,” Jafar demanded, and the pleasure of his voice was too much for Jasmine. She did as ordered, and found herself screaming as her orgasm rocked her body harder than ever before.

"Oh Jafar," she breathed, her eyes heavy with pleasure. Jafar smirked, already eager for more. His perfect Princess needed more…she needed more of his cock and after all these years of cockteasing she was now bent down on all fours because that was what the greedy man wanted. Jasmine obeyed him immediately, her body yielding to pleasure without hesitation. He growled his appreciation when he saw her obey, and she blushed from the intensity of his gaze.

“Twist your supple body round, my dear…I want to fuck you…in front of him.”

The Sultan watched in horror and disgust as his daughter was used in such an obscene way, his body long ago conditioned by his ‘servant’ to yield to Jafar’s will rather than defend his daughter's honor. Jafar was now on top of Jasmine, no longer a virgin, giving her powerful thrusts that shook the entire chamber.

As Jafar continued his relentless pace, Jasmine's body quivered beneath him, her big breasts swaying with each thrust, the blue fabric being sullied by her sweat as Jafar pumped her with cock. The hypnotic spell he'd woven intensified every sensation, forcing her to experience pleasure beyond anything she'd ever imagined sex would be. Deep inside her mind, a battle raged between the last remnants of her defiance and her growing submission to Jafar.

"Ah, my sweet Jasmine," Jafar purred, his voice dark and sinister, "I can feel you losing yourself to me. Your body betrays you."

"Please..." Jasmine whimpered, her voice broken by both desire and shame.

"Speak your desires, my dear," Jafar demanded, never breaking his rhythm as he plunged deeper into her.

"Make...make me your wife," Jasmine stammered, hating herself for the words that escaped her lips. "Your slave...your…your servant!"

"Such eager devotion," Jafar laughed cruelly, tightening his grip on her hips. "You were born to serve me, weren't you?"

Jasmine called out, over and over, "Jafar…please…Please don't ever stop. I'm yours - every single piece of me. Please, Jafar, I'm yours…fuck me so good!"

Jafar moaned his approval and was consumed by the animalistic desire to take her harder and faster. He worked her over with skill and vigor, spanking her with a vicious intensity when her cries of pleasure began to get too loud. He reveled in her surrender as she begged- begging not to be left unsatisfied…begging to be conquered.

"Yes, Jafar, yes!" Jasmine cried out, her body trembling uncontrollably with pleasure. Jafar felt her submitting to him, feeling her body reacting to each of his thrusts. He moved faster and deeper, enjoying the sensation of her body beneath his…of belonging to his cock.

"Beg for it!" Jafar demanded, a wicked gleam in his eye.

"Please Jafar, please don't stop. I need you. I need this," Jasmine begged, her hands gripping the sheets beneath her. The palace was so shiny, she could see her master above her…taking her from behind like a stallion would his mare.

Jafar gripped her waist and increased his thrusts, smacking her ass hard each time. She couldn't help but cry out, the sensations intensifying each time.

"Good girl," he said breathlessly, his own arousal overpowering.

Jasmine moaned out in pleasure, her body arching towards Jafar with each thrust. She felt so alive, so in the moment, as if every second belonged to them alone.

“Yes." Jafar moaned, his thrusts increasing in intensity. Each smack of his hand on her ass sent a wave of pleasure through her body, pleasuring and punishing her all at once.

"Say it," Jafar ordered, his voice deep and commanding, “Say it, and I might let you cum again…”

Jasmine felt desperate, her body itching for his touch as he brought her ever closer to the edge. She could feel her pleasure mounting inside her, threatening to overflow. She wanted to say the words, just to feel that delicious release that only he could give her.

But she hesitated, her pride too strong to just give in to him. If she did, it would be the end for not just her, but for Agrabah. So she bit her lip and groaned out instead, each moan just seemingly increasing Jafar's own pleasure. Jafar's hand moved quicker now, smacking her harder and harder each time until finally she could take it no more. He cackled.

"You are mine, slave, and you will do as I command you. Now say it." His words were like a spell, unlocking something inside her. All the fight and pride drained out of her as she finally uttered the words he wanted to hear.

"You are…the Sultan." Jasmine said, the words coming out of her mouth like a chant.

Jafar rewarded her, increasing his thrusts and hitting her sweet spot over and over again until Jasmine was a quivering mass in his arms, completely and utterly his.

"Sultan Jafar! Sultan Jafar!" She moaned, her body trembling as she reached her climax, "You are the Sultan! You fuck me! You own me!"

"Good girl," Jafar breathed, enjoying the wet pussy he had wanted since she flowered. With that, he moved faster, pushing her over the edge and making her cry out his name. His name would be the only name Jasmine truly wanted to hear now.

Jasmine knew now that she had been given the best sex from the greatest cock...the cock of Sultan Jafar.

As he left her delicious pussy and rose to his feet, Jasmine submitted completely to Jafar, kneeling before him in humble adoration. She felt the warmth of his gaze caress her body, and heat began to build in her center. Jafar stepped closer, and her arousal deepened as she felt the power radiating from him.

"Jasmine," he said, the power of his voice making her quiver. "Show me you want me. Beg for me."

She trembled, unable to break his hypnotic gaze. "Please, Sultan Jafar," she breathed, "I want you more than anything. You're the sexiest man I've ever known. I need your big, perfect cock inside me again. Please, take me again."

Jafar smiled, and with one hand he grabbed her hair, pulling her head back and exposing her neck. She whimpered, feeling his hardness press against her. With his other hand he firmly took hold of his enormous, pulsating cock and held it before them both. She gasped, trying to contain her excitement.

“Now you, my whore of a Sultan,” Jafar, still thrusting, looked into the former Sultan’s eyes, “beg.”

"Please Jafar," he whispered in a pleading voice, "take my daughter, Jasmine, and make her yours. Show her the…the power of your magnificent manhood, drown her in its waves of passion and pleasure. Free her…fuck her…please don’t stop…for the kingdom…fuck my daughter harder…oh great Sulan Jafar.."

Jasmine let out a low moan of pleasure as she took Jafar's cock into her hands. She marveled at the size and strength of it, feeling the veins bulging beneath her touch. His hardness was undeniable, and his smooth, thick glans made her tremble with desire. It had just defiled her unmarried pussy, and it only made her want him more. At that moment, it was impossible for Jasmine to remember a time when she had hated Jafar.

Then he thrust into her, splitting her mouth apart with deep, relentless thrusts that filled her to the core.

Jasmine eagerly took Jafar's enchanted cock into her mouth, sucking and licking it with a feverish desire. Jafar groaned in pleasure, his hips involuntarily thrusting towards her.

"You're such a good little slut," Jafar crooned, as he ran his fingers through her hair. "You love pleasing me, don't you? You'd do anything for my big, hard cock."

Jasmine only moaned in response, her tongue eagerly exploring every inch of Jafar's shaft. She loved the feel of his hard flesh in her mouth, the taste of his salty sweat on her lips. She could feel him growing bigger and harder with each stroke of her tongue, and her own arousal was increasing by the second.

"Yes, that's it," Jafar gasped, as Jasmine's mouth worked up and down his length. "Give me your best, slut. Take my cock as deep as you can."

Jasmine moaned in delight as Jafar's penis filled her mouth. "Your cock is amazing, Jafar," Jasmine breathed. "It's so big and hard and it tastes so good."

Jafar smiled, enjoying the sensation. "Yes, my princess," he said huskily. "It's all yours. I don’t think I need to worry about things like banishment or beheadings now, do I you little cocksucking slut?."

Jasmine let out a soft, wanton moan. "I want it," she said, her voice trembling with desire. "I want it so badly."

Jafar chuckled. "That's better...that's what I want to hear. Lick it, pussycat, and tell me more about my cock."

Jasmine eagerly complied, licking and sucking as she spoke. "It's so big and hard, Jafar," she whispered. "I can feel it pulsing inside me, filling me up. It tastes so sweet...and it makes me so hot."

Jafar stared into Jasmine's mesmerized eyes as she pleasured him. "How does my cock compare to the others?" he asked, his voice laced with arousal.

Jasmine shuddered with pleasure, her body quaking with desire. "It's the biggest, Jafar," she moaned. "It's perfect."

"Even compared to Prince Ali's cock? Does mine please you more?" Jafar asked, his voice growling with need.

Jasmine seemed to lose herself in the moment, her eyes filled with passion. "Your cock is incomparable, Jafar," she breathed. "It's so big and perfect...it's like nothing I've ever felt before."

Jafar's hand snaked into Jasmine's hair, pulling her closer. "So that's a yes," he said with satisfaction.

Jasmine nodded eagerly, her lips still wrapped around Jafar's hard cock. "Yes! Yes, your cock pleases me more than any other! More than Prince Ali’s ever could! I worship it, My Sultan Jafar, I love it!"

"Yes, princess," Jafar groaned. "That's it. Take my cock deep into your throat. I want it nice and hard...so I can fuck my bride’s ass like the filthy little slut she is."

The thrill of Jasmine's surrender was too much for Jafar to resist. But his seed belonged in a different hole. Besides, He wanted to humiliate the former Sultan even further…he wanted the mesmerized and broken man to see what his daughter truely was now.

"Tell your father what you are now, pussycat." he growled.

"I am the wife…and slave…of Sultan Jafar," she answered, her voice trembling with pleasure as Jafar touched her body. He moved closer and entered her ass.

"Ah, Jasmine," Jafar murmured, admiring the light that shone from her body. Her perfect ass filled the air with temptation, the swell of her flesh begging to be touched..and defiled. Jafar had wanted to spank that ass since she was a young woman, an impossible dream. Now, however, she was his, his to do with as he pleased.

He chuckled as he ran his hands over her body, feeling her quiver beneath his touch. He wanted her to want him to take her. His tongue lashed her skin as he circled her waist, hauntingly close to the apex of her hips. He could feel Jasmine's heart thudding violently beneath his own, and seized by a sudden impulse, he used his tongue to penetrate her, making her gasp and moan aloud.

Jafar looked up into the Sultan's eyes, delighting in the shock and surprise he saw there. Letting his gaze wander over to Jasmine's face, he could make out her flushed cheeks and parted lips as she acclimated to his intrusion. Soon enough her moans became cries of pleasure, the same cries he had heard in his imagination so many times, but which now became reality.

"You see, Sultan," he breathed, standing from the bed and stepping away from Jasmine's ass. "You no longer own her. No, this," he said, looking down and grabbing her sweat-slicked asshole, "belongs to me."

Jasmine felt her pulse quicken as heat flooded her veins. Despite the fear trembling through her body, she also felt an eager desire to feel Jafar fulfilling her. He was her Sultan. He was to be her husband...and his cock was unyielding, no matter where Jafar put it.

She met Jafar's gaze, her own begging him to please her...no matter the cost. "Take me," she whispered. "Make me yours, and make it hurt."

Jafar smiled wickedly, his gaze lingering on Jasmine's perfectly round ass. He wanted it, he dreamed of having it, and now, he owned it.

"You were always so beautiful and precious, Jasmine," Jafar said. He ran his finger along her skin, feeling a frenzy of desire rush through him. "And now," he purred, advancing closer. "Now none of your holes are denied to me."

Jasmine whimpered, her body trembling with desire and anticipation as Jafar ran his hands across her curves.

"You want me to take it? To make you beg for it?" Jafar asked.

Jasmine nodded, her eyes wide. Her ass shaking for her master and his big, powerful cock.

"Good girl," Jafar said. He lowered himself onto her, his hard body pressing into her softness. He reached out, taking a firm hold of her hips and thrusting himself deep into her ass. Jasmine gasped in pain, her mouth forming a quiet scream.

"Your ass is mine, Jasmine," he said. "And no one will ever deny me what's mine again."

She began to move with him, her hips meeting his full length in a wild rhythm. The princess of Agrabah gasped as Jafar's huge, thick cock filled her tight ass. She bit her lip and tensed up as the pain from the sudden penetration shot through her body. Still, she knew it was a deeper pleasure she was experiencing.

Jafar took what he wanted, pushing deeper and deeper into her tight depths. His massive size filled her ass to the brim and made her scream for her Sultan. Jasmine felt the waves of pleasure rising inside her and her hips rocked and moved with Jafar's as he drove himself into her over and over again. To survive the pain, and to deal with all these new emotions that clashed with who she was mere minutes ago, she started a mantra in her head, "A Princess must serve her Sultan," as the pleasure and pain merged in her body, pushing her to a new level of arousal and surrender.

Jasmine breathed in and out slowly, her mind devoted to one thought: "A Princess must serve her Sultan". With every thrust, her mantra reminded her of her submission.

"A Princess must serve her Sultan," she whispered, trying to use the mantra to endure the pain as Jafar thrust into her. His big, powerful cock was like a vice in her tight ass, and she clenched her teeth as the sensation slowly shifted from agony to pleasure. Even still, she kept her mantra going, clinging to it as a reminder of why she had to endure this pain—to please Jafar and serve her Sultan.

"A Princess must…serve her Sultan," she repeated over and over again as Jafar thrust into her, until finally she felt herself growing closer and closer to her pleasure. She felt a strange mixture of pain and pleasure as she shuddered with her orgasm, embracing the sensations as best she could.

"A Princess must serve her Sultan," the former Sultan echoed weakly, the words barely audible in the background of the passionate scene. Jasmine felt her pleasure flare even brighter at the reminder of Jafar's control and the knowledge that she belonged to him.

"Squeal it again, old man." commanded Iago, the parrot, "A Princess must serve her Sultan."

The Sultan complied, his voice weak and broken, but filled with the same knowledge that Jasmine had of her helpless surrender to her new master. Had he not been so weak, perhaps his daughter's life would not belong to Jafar.

Jafar laughed as he looked down at the mesmerized Jasmine, his dark eyes full of evil. He ran a finger down her arm and smirked when her body trembled in response, taking his cocks power. With a knowing smirk, he looked past Jasmine to his captive audience, the Sultan.

"This has been my plan all along," he said, a cruel edge to his voice. "Did you really think I could let something as beautiful as Jasmine go to waste? No. I will make her mine, and she will do my bidding. Tonight, she will be my sexy little slave. And you, more than anyone, know that when I want to take someone, I take them long, hard and deep!" Jasmine moaned, her eyes still unfocused as Jafar's words sunk in.

The Sultan's face was a mask of horror, but Jafar only laughed, reveling in his cruel control over the two of them.

"You have no say in this," he told the Sultan. "I will have Jasmine, and I will do with her what I please. I have already taken control of your kingdom, and soon I will be the rightful ruler of Agrabah, you bowing and fanning me as I enjoy my supple, pretty slaves atop my Cobra-Throne."

"Faster!" Jafar commanded, and Jasmine eagerly obeyed, her cries of pleasure filling the royal chambers. Jafar's hands moved over her body, spanking her in time with his thrusts, wanting it to hurt his willing little slut.

"Beg me not to stop," he said, his voice low and deep.

"Please don't stop…master," Jasmine begged, her body burning with pleasure, “A Princess must serve her Sultan…oh fuck! A Princess must serve her Sultan!”

The Sultan was frozen in place, unable to do anything but watch as Jafar slowly pushed his way inside of Jasmine. His powerful thrusts were accompanied by more taunts and insults, showing the kind of ruler Jafar would be.

"You know, pussycat, I've been fucking and controlling your beloved Father for so long now, making him my puppet. Gaining inch…after inch…of power from his feeble, little mind. Taking…fuck yes…taking his ass, owning him as I own his Kingdom. A true Sultan does whatever it takes! A true Sultan fucks whatever he wants! By Allah, your asshole is mine now, Pussycat!" Jasmine let out a moan of pleasure as Jafar's powerful thrusts rocked her body like a ragdoll. She knew that she was helpless to resist it, and her cunt and ass just wanted to enjoy taking his power now.

"Yes, that's it!" Jafar exclaimed as he increased the intensity of his thrusts. "You can't help yourself, can you? You're mine now, and I control every inch of your body!"

Jasmine's moans got louder, and the Sultan could feel himself growing aroused, watching his beloved Jasmine pleasure this vile man. He was powerless to do anything about it, and all he could do was watch as Jafar took her, moaning a quiet "A Princess must serve her Sultan," as he had been commanded to do. As his laws commanded him to do.

Jafar had his hands roughly around Jasmine’s slim waist, thrusting his hips against her. She gasped and moaned as each thrust came harder than the last. He was a villain, and he was going to defeat her.

“You’re my fucking slave, Jasmine,” Jafar taunted her, his voice dripping with malice. “And you’ll do exactly what I want. Just like your father always has. The royal family of Agrabah…you’ve never been anything other than my cocksleeves!”

Jasmine’s moans became louder. The Sultan could see her body reacting to Jafar’s words, becoming his cocksleeve no matter how much it hurt her tight ass. She liked it. She liked it when Jafar took what he wanted. It was making his daughter moan and scream in ways he’d never thought possible. It was terrifying…and yet arousing at the same time for the old man, who had given himself to Jafar so many times under the hypnosis.

"A Princess must serve her Sultan…" they moaned, unable to stop Jafar’s conquest.

"I have fucked and controlled you, and your bitch of a father has no choice but to watch me break your delicious ass. Now, former Sultan, bow down to me, your master, and be my witness as I take what I want from her." Jafar then ravished Jasmine, his hands pinning her down while his hips thrust into her, knifing into her ass as though she was nothing but a sexy, submissive hole for Jafar to break. All the while, he continued to taunt the Sultan with the pleasure he's taken from his irresistible daughter, unable to do anything to stop it. Jasmine tried to fight back in the deepest corners of her mind, but Jafar was too strong. After a few moments, Jafar slipped out of Jasmine, a satisfied smirk on his face, before turning back to the Sultan. "See? This is how I take what I want. You should be thankful that I would even show you. But you must see…you must see what your daughter truly is!”

"A Princess…. Must…fuck…more Jafar! Fuck me more…Sultan…fuck…Sultan Jafar!"

"Ah, look at my little slut, groveling before me. You enjoy it as I fuck your daughter’s flawless body? We both know you do. You lust for her like all men…just like you lusted for my cock all those times I broke you! You belong to me, to do with as I please. I am the one in control, the one who has fooled and manipulated you. You are no true Sultan. No true father. You should be thankful I've chosen your bitch of a daughter as my plaything." Jafar then grabs Jasmine’s hips, without warning and thrusted deeper into the Princess, forbidden to all but him and his mighty cock, continuing to mock and degrade them both as he does.

"You're so hot for me, I can taste it," Jafar growled, increasing his speed until he was slamming into Jasmine with all his might. She screamed out in pleasure as he brought her to the brink of orgasm, her cries echoing off the walls. The Sultan watched it all in awe, filled with a strange mix of disgust and arousal. Jafar looked up at him with a smirk and a knowing look in his eyes. They both knew who was in control.

"Tell me, my pussycat, how will you use your body for my pleasure?" Jafar asked as his thrusts grew more intense. Through the pain and pleasure, Jasmine screamed her devotions to her Sultan…her master…

"I will…spread my legs wide and let you own me, my Sultan," Jasmine said, her voice heavy with desire, "I will let you take me in any way you wish, anywhere in the palace!" Jafar let out a loud groan as he felt her body quiver beneath him. His thrusts grew deeper, and Jasmine's cries echoed.

"Yes, my pet," Jafar murmured, burying his face in the crook of her neck, "you are mine...tell me more things I can do to your body." Jasmine gasped, her body trembling with pleasure as Jafar spoke.

"You can tie me up and take me any way you wish," she said, her voice heavy with desire. "You can…own my curves with your hands and mouth, all night, and I’ll beg you to use me more. And then, when I'm ready, you can fill me with your pleasure until I'm completely yours…until I give you any release, any pleasure…and heir you desire, Sultan Jafar!"

Jafar couldn't get enough of her. As she screamed out his name in pleasure, Jafar smiled in satisfaction, knowing that he had won.

"Jafar! Jafar! You fill me with your perfect cock!" Jasmine cried out, her body trembling and tingling with delight. "You are the sexiest man I have ever known!"

Jasmine felt as if she was flying, and all she could do was scream out Jafar's name in pleasure as her orgasm grew stronger and stronger.

Jafar had never felt such power and dominance before, every thrust eliciting Jasmine's moans of pleasure. Her tight, wet ass was practically begging for his cock, and he knew that she was completely his.

With one final thrust, Jasmine screamed out.

"Your cock is perfect! The best! JAFAR! Sultan Jafar!"

Jasmine shattered into a million pieces, screaming out her pleasure for the entire world to hear. Jafar kept plunging into her until all the pleasure had ebbed away, leaving behind only the blissful satisfaction of her submission to him.

Jafar groaned deeply as his own orgasm came crashing over him. He felt it ripple through his body, each wave of pleasure stronger than the one before. He pounded into Jasmine, his seed claiming her ass, making her his in ways even dark magic could not.

Jafar, the new, powerful Sultan, kissed his slave’s forehead gently before slowly pulling out of her, caressing her ass tenderly…he wanted to own it, and now he did. He bent down and kissed her neck, whispering words of endearment and love into her ear.

"You are mine, now and forever," Jafar said, his tone possessive yet gentle. "Say my name."

"Sultan Jafar," she whispered, her voice still heavy with desire. "Sultan Jafar, I am yours...my love…"

Jafar had won.

"Now, ‘Sultan’," he said, "Every day, I will fuck her, roughly, and punish her for resisting me for so many years…you will watch her become a whore…and there is nothing you can do to stop me." The Sultan stared at Jafar in anger and despair. He had failed to protect his daughter, and he knew that she was now lost to him forever.

“Nothing I can do to stop you…” He parrated back to his master.

"Now, kiss my ring, Sultan... and accept your fate, go on, you fat slut. Make my union with you whore of a daughter, law." Jafar said with a smirk, the blue ring, the one he had so easily snatched from the former Sultan, now a mere bauble compared to the multitudes Jafar has stolen from him now. He was entirely naked besides the ring, so confident in his masculine power. The Sultan bowed his head in shame, and Jasmine felt a chill run through her, seeing her once proud father supplicate himself to his former servant…now her master, betrothed and sex-god, Sultan Jafar.

"Come, Jasmine," Jafar said, his voice like velvet. "Let us go to the fool’s royal chambers. This one can sleep on the ground... I need his gargantuan room so I might play with you in the space fitting the true Sultan of these lands. you will warm my bed, until the morning when I marry you in front of the common hordes of Agrabah."

Jasmine shivered in response. Taking her hand, Jafar led her away from her father…away from her old life.

As Jasmine glided down the hall, feeling the wetness gathering between her thighs due to his proximity, she thought of the man who had given her a whole new world of pleasure. She was his now, completely and utterly. He wanted her…so he took her.

She moved through the palace naked. As she realized how scandalous this was, she also saw no sign of guards and servants on their route. Little did she know that Jafar was in complete control of her palace already. He had thoroughly outfoxed her, cornered her, and fucker her out of her royal inheritance now.

They reached the chambers that once belonged to her father, and Jafar stopped, looking down on Jasmine with an intoxicating gaze. "This is our first time in our marital bed…my queen…show your loyalty and submission," he said, his voice like poison,

"After all, it is a Queen’s duty to clean herself, and her master, after making such a filthy mess, isn’t that right, Princess?"

Jasmine trembled as she obeyed. Jasmine trembled and dropped to her knees in service to Jafar, forgetting her father, Raja or Aladdin, all completely forgotten as her only focus was Jafar and his needs. Taking his manhood in her hands, she began to bathe it in her saliva, her tongue lapping at it hungrily, her passionate kiss enough to set both their hearts racing. She cleaned, and pleasured her Sultan until his groans of pleasure filled the chamber.

Jasmine knelt before Jafar, her curves on full display and her soft skin shining in the lamplight. Her breasts, still flushed from her pleasure, bobbed as she attended to her Sultan, the slight arch of her back emphasizing her curves. Her hair cascaded around her, a lustrous halo, while her moist lips yielded to her man, and assumed the duties of a Sultanna.

"You really do belong to me now, don't you?" he breathed.

Jasmine smiled seductively and nodded. "Yes, my Sultan," she replied. Her mind was broken, and reformed into the toy Jafar always wished she would become. "I am yours. let me show you how willing I am…to be my Sultan’s pussycat…"

*** Less than an hour later… ***

Jafar pushed Jasmine against the wall, his muscled physique trapping her between his body and the solid marble. With one rough hand, he pulled her wrist up above her head, pinning her to the wall as his hot breath ghosted across her neck.

He growled in her ear, "You were the Sultan's little princess, weren't you? But now I'm in control." Jasmine felt her heart pounding in her chest and a warmth growing deep between her legs. She should be afraid of him, but his cruel words only aroused her more. Jafar tugged the neckline of her red harem outfit lower, revealing her ample cleavage. His rough hands roamed over her body, stirring up a deep aching inside her.

"You're mine now," he growled as he captured her lips with his own. His kiss was hungry and rough. She moaned, her body responding to him even as her mind battled against her desire. He finally pulled away and Jasmine opened her eyes to see his smoldering gaze.

"Let me show you what it's like to be owned by a Sultan," he said in a low voice. Without a word, he swept her up into his arms and carried her to her father’s bed…now the bed of Sultan Jafar, and any slave he desired. He towered over her. She trembled as he slowly undressed the red harem outfit he had ordered her to wear, his eyes devouring her body. He thought it would be amusing to see her dressed so provocatively for him. But it was too much. It was too much to see her displayed for him, in red, and to not be taken by his big, divine cock.

Jafar stepped closer and Jasmine felt his hard length pressing against her, sending a surge of heat coursing through her. He traced the tip of his tongue along her collarbone and moved lower, his mouth exploring her body. Jasmine gasped as he entered her with a powerful thrust, his girth stretching her in ways she had never before experienced. He moved inside her, his hips pounding against her with a power that sent waves of pleasure radiating through her entire body. He grabbed her hips and pulled her harder against him, his eyes fixated on her own.

"It's mine," he said in a low voice. Jasmine knew she should be outraged by his words but instead she felt herself responding, her hips moving in time with him as her pleasure reached a crescendo.

“Yours! Fuck me…I’m yours…My love!”

Jasmine felt the pleasure radiating through her body as Jafar continued to thrust within her. His strong, muscular body felt larger than life as he moved inside her, pushing her closer and closer to the edge of pleasure. She gasped as she felt him grow even larger still, proving just how massive his manhood truly was. With each thrust, she felt like she was being taken over completely by Jafar and his powerful desires.

His hard length entered her and sent shockwaves of pleasure through her, making her gasp in pleasure. She felt so small and insignificant next to his raw power, yet it felt liberating to yield to him completely. Jasmine closed her eyes as explosive sensations rolled through her, her body finally succumbing to her pleasure.

Jafar's body was like a furnace, igniting a fire within her that couldn't be tamed. With each thrust, her desire for him intensified. The costume she wore, the red harem outfit of a slave only served to reinforce the feeling of being owned by him. She could feel all of the defiant energy she possessed fading away until Jafar was the only thing that mattered.

"Oh, Jafar!" she gasped, her voice trembling with pleasure. "Your cock is so...big! It's overwhelming me!" With each thrust, Jasmine felt her orgasm building and her screams grew louder and louder.

Jasmine felt alive, as if the pleasure were rushing through her veins like a drug. Jasmine moaned aloud, her words echoing in the room as she felt the sheer size of Sultan Jafar's cock inside her. His powerful thrusts filled her with pleasure so intense she couldn't help but cry out with each movement. Never had she experienced something like this—his size stretched her in ways she could never have imagined. But Jasmine didn't feel any discomfort—instead, the sensation only drove her to a deeper bliss than she ever dreamed possible. She reveled in her new found sense of submission, reveled in the thought of being owned by her sultan.

"Oh God, Jafar!" Jasmine moaned and gasped, her body trembling with pleasure as Jafar thrust himself deep inside her. His enormous cock filled her completely, an unstoppable force that brought wave after wave of pleasure crashing through her. "It's huge, perfect," she gasped, her voice laced with admiration. "You are my Sultan—the most powerful man in the world, and now I'm blessed to have...oh fuck me...a cock like this!" She felt her inner walls clamp down around the hard length of him, pleasure and desire coursing through her like wildfire. She kissed him fiercely, adoringly, and then surrendered to the waves of pure ecstasy that engulfed her. "It's all yours!" she shouted as she clung onto him and finally found her release.

Jafar groaned as he reached his own climax, collapsing beside her in a panting heap. Jasmine lay there, her limbs trembling, as she replayed the events of the last few minutes in her mind. She knew she should hate Jafar, but instead she felt nothing but pleasure and desire. She had never felt so alive, so desired, and she knew at that moment that this was only the beginning of her new life with Jafar—her sultan…and his big, meaty cock.

Jasmine, Sultan Jafar’s prized whore turned around to present her royal ass to her master…ready to serve…

Chapter Text

Out of the water, Aladdin, or Prince Ali, rose up.

He was coughing, hurting, and unsure where he was now.

He knew it was Jafar, commanding the palace guards with an eerie power who nearly ended his young life.

He was sinking, drowning, and unable to save himself, and to warn the Princess he loved of the danger that was to come.

Yet still, he survived.

Perhaps it was some connection to the Genie (who he planned to take with him when he spoke with Jasmine, but he had forgotten being so distracted by his fantasies of Jafar) that saved his life in exchange for a wish. Perhaps in their hast, the guards made a mistake, and did not fasten the chains correctly. Perhaps it was just not his time to die.

It took him a few moments to gather himself. He was not going to wait. Jafar was planning a coup. The guards were on his side. The kind Sultan, and the beautiful Princess were in danger.

Aladdin had no choice, he needed to find his way to the Sultan.

Little did the young man know that it was too late. Once he made it inside the Palace, moans could be heard in the dark, cavernous hallways. They were the moans of a worthy Princess, being taken by a powerful force.

Ali ran towards them, already too late to stop what was about to happen.

***

Jafar's lustful gaze roamed over Jasmine's supple body, taking in the beads of sweat that glistened on her tanned skin. The dim light from flickering oil lamps cast a warm glow upon her heaving breasts, her dark nipples stiff with arousal. Jasmine's eyes were glazed over, lost in the throes of passion as she rode Jafar's massive cock, her hips grinding against his and her silken walls gripping him tightly.

"Ah, my sweet slave," Jafar growled, his fingers digging into Jasmine's hips to guide her movements. "Look at you, so desperate for your master's touch."

In this heated moment, the room was filled with the intoxicating scent of their coupling, mingling with the rich aroma of Arabian spices. The sumptuous draperies and luxurious pillows surrounded them, bearing witness to their forbidden union. Jasmine had become just another one of his harem slaves – powerless, obedient, and utterly devoted.

"Please... Sultan Jafar," Jasmine moaned, her voice laced with need. "I can't take it any longer... I need more."

"Say it," Jafar commanded, his eyes narrowing as he reveled in her submission. "Tell me what you want."

"Your cock," she panted, her hands clawing at his chest. "I want your massive cock to fill me, to break me."

"Ah, yes," Jafar smirked, his heart swelling with wicked satisfaction. Memories flooded his mind, recalling the proud, defiant princess Jasmine once was before he'd ensnared her in his web of control. And now, she was willingly offering herself to him, begging for his every touch.

In an hour it would be dawn, and Jafar’s plans would be finalized. Their wedding would happen immediately, and Jasmine’s foolish, mind-fucked father would abdocate the thrown for his wiser, more powerful son in law. They would consummate their union in front of witnesses, preventing any from denying that the Royal Princess was Jafar’s now and forever. They had fucked that night, over and over again, Jafar taking Jasmine deeper. And while Jafar had cum so many times, Jasmine had woken his body with divine worship, needing the man who conquered her, who crafted her mind into loving and needing Jafar and only Jafar, to be pleasured by her young, tight and eager body. Her cunt felt so good as she rode her lover, master, and through her own submission, Sultan as she praised him in ways he always wanted her to since she had flowered.

Jafar reveled in the sensation of Jasmine's warm, supple body atop him, her hips gyrating sinuously as she rode his massive cock. Her once strong-willed demeanor now reduced to nothing more than a needy, desperate puppet, eager to please her new master. He felt a twisted satisfaction at this transformation, his power over her both intoxicating and arousing.

"Ah, Princess," Jafar purred, running his hands up Jasmine's toned thighs, feeling the smooth, tanned skin beneath his fingers. "You have become quite the devoted slave, haven't you?"

Jasmine moaned, her luscious breasts heaving with each breath as they bounced rhythmically with her movements. "Yes, Sultan Jafar... I live to serve you."

Her words sent a shiver down Jafar's spine, igniting an even greater hunger within him. As his hands continued their exploration, they found Jasmine's plump ass, squeezing it firmly, making her gasp and whimper with delight. Her eyes fluttered closed, consumed by the sensations he was eliciting within her.

"Does that feel good, my pet?" he asked, smirking at the way her body quivered with need under his touch.

"Y-yes, my Sultan," she panted, her voice dripping with desire. "Your touch... is everything I crave."

Jafar slid a hand around to her front, teasing her clit with deft fingers, watching as her eyes widened with pleasure. "Indeed? You are so weak, Princess. No more than a helpless toy for me to play with as I see fit."

As Jasmine's moans grew louder, Jafar could feel her slick heat tightening around him, driving him ever closer to the edge. Her entire being seemed to tremble at his merest caress, her once-proud spirit shattered by the overwhelming force of his control.

"Please, Sultan Jafar," Jasmine begged between gasps, her body writhing atop him. "I need... I need your cock."

Jafar's eyes glinted in the dim candlelight as he watched Jasmine, her body glistening with sweat as she rode him. Her breasts heaved with each gasp for breath, nipples hard and begging to be touched, twisted, and tormented. He reached up, pinching them between his fingers, reveling in the way she cried out, a mixture of pain and pleasure.

"Say it again, pussycat…" he commanded, gripping her slender waist tightly with one hand as the other firmly cupped her round, perfect ass. "Tell me what you want."

"Your cock, my Sultan," Jasmine moaned, arching her back as Jafar squeezed her ass mercilessly. "Please... I need your massive cock inside me."

"Tell me, Jasmine," Jafar taunted, his voice heavy with lust. "Do you remember how you used to fight me? How you would spit venom and hurl insults at me like a wild animal?"

The mention of her past self seemed to ignite something deep within Jasmine. Her eyes flashed with a flicker of defiance, but it was quickly extinguished by the overwhelming desire coursing through her veins.

"Y-yes, Sultan Jafar... I remember," she admitted, shuddering at the memory. "But now... now I exist only to serve you."

"Ah, how the mighty have fallen," Jafar sneered, his hand sliding down to cup her ass, squeezing and spanking the supple flesh. "You were once a proud princess, so full of fire. And now, you're reduced to a quivering mess, unable to resist even the slightest touch."

His words seemed to spur Jasmine on, her movements becoming more frenzied and uncontrolled. A low, guttural moan escaped her lips as she ground herself against him, seeking the release that only he could provide.

"Jafar... I've never felt anything like this before," Jasmine purrs, her voice filled with desire and submission. "Your power over me is intoxicating. As your wife, I promise to be the most obedient and devoted servant you could ever want." Her hands roam over Jafar's sculpted chest, tracing every muscle and bone. "I'll dance for you in the moonlight, wearing nothing but the finest silks that cling to my body, leaving nothing to your imagination."

Jasmine leans in closer, her breath hot against Jafar's ear, "I will serve you breakfast in bed, feeding you sweet dates and rich honey while my lips worship every inch of your glorious body. I will bathe you in perfumed oils, massaging them into your skin until you are utterly relaxed and ready for whatever pleasures the night has in store."

As Jasmine rides Jafar's throbbing cock, her moans grow louder, yet she takes a more apologetic tone. "I am so, so sorry, Master Jafar, that I did not submit to you sooner. I was foolish to defy such a powerful and irresistible man like yourself." Tears of regret and arousal pool in her eyes. "Please forgive your little pussycat for her stubbornness….oh fuck…Your cock is amazing, Sultan Jafar, I've never felt anything like it... I'm your pussycat! Every part of me belongs to you – my mind, my body, my heart. Use me however you wish, for I am nothing more than a toy for you…and your big, powerful cocks amusement." Jasmine's moans become more desperate as she begs for Jafar's forgiveness, her body moving in perfect rhythm with his.

"Please, Master, punish your little pussycat for her disobedience," she pleads, her voice thick with desire. "Show me how much better it is to be under your control than to defy you."

As Jasmine rode Jafar's massive cock with desperate fervor, her hands roamed his muscular body, tracing the contours of his dark, commanding features.

The corners of Jafar's lips curled upward as he reveled in her words. His chest tightened from the erotic power that coursed through him. He urged her on, his voice a low growl. "Tell me, Jasmine, what will you do for your Sultan?"

With a sultry smile, Jasmine began to weave an enticing web of promises. "As your loving wife, I will massage your strong shoulders after a long day of ruling Agrabah, easing your tense muscles and soothing your powerful mind." Her voice grew huskier, her words dirtier as she continued feeling his cock take what it wanted from her tight, young cunt. "And when night falls, I will don nothing but the finest silks and I'll dance for you, moving my hips and breasts to the rhythm of seductive music, showing off my body for your eyes only. I will be your personal oasis, quenching your every thirst and satisfying your every craving."

Jafar's arousal intensified as Jasmine's speech became filthier, painting vivid images of their carnal union. The princess's body trembled with desire, her tender flesh wrapped tightly around his throbbing member. Her voice grew huskier, dirtier. "I'll bathe you with my own hands, gently washing every inch of your glorious body before bending over and allowing you to take me from behind, like the devoted wife of the powerful Sultan is meant to do."

Jasmine kept going, getting off on her own debasement. "I'll wake you every morning with my lips around your divine cock, sucking and worshiping you until you're ready to face the day. I'll kneel by your side during court, wearing nothing but a sheer veil over my voluptuous body, showing the world that I belong to you, my powerful Sultan."

"Every night," she purred, "I will worship your magnificent cock, taking it deep within my mouth, my hands, and my tight, wet pussy. I will be your personal harem girl, begging you to use me in any way that pleases you. I will bend over for you, offering my ass to your firm hand or your powerful thrusts. You will claim me, again and again, until we are both exhausted from pleasure."

They moved together, lost in the throes of lust, Jafar knew that nothing would stop him from claiming all that he desired. Jasmine's darkened eyes, glazed over with submission, gazed up at Jafar as she continued her erotic speech. "My Sultan," she whispered, "I want to see you conquer others, too. Use your hypnotic powers and your divine cock to break them, just as you've broken me. I want to watch them succumb, helpless before your might."

Jafar smirked, his grip on Jasmine's hips tightening as he drove himself deeper within her. "Oh, you do?" he asked, a wicked glint in his eyes. "Tell me more, my precious little pussycat."

"Take the most beautiful women from every corner of our kingdom," Jasmine gasped, her body trembling with lust. "Bring them here, to our bedroom, and make them part of your harem. Let them be our playthings, their bodies bending to our every whim."

The thought of Jafar dominating countless other women sent a shiver down Jasmine's spine, making her clench even tighter around him. Her heart raced with excitement for the sinful tableau she had painted, "My Sultan, I want to see you conquer others as you have conquered me," she purred, her eyes dark with lust. "Imagine how powerful you'd be with a harem of sexy slaves, all completely devoted to you."

"Tell me, my dearest pussycat, who should I take and how?" Jafar asked, his voice dripping with sadistic glee.

"Take the beautiful dancers from the marketplace, their supple bodies wrapped around your massive cock," Jasmine moaned, her hips grinding against him. "Hypnotize them with your power, making them crave only your touch and submit to you willingly. Perhaps some of the palace handmaidens" Jasmine suggested breathlessly, "their soft curves and pliant bodies would look divine beneath you, submitting to your every whim. They will serve your palace, their cunts and asses sour from feeling their Sultan’s powerful manhood..."

"Ah, yes" Jafar grinned wickedly, thrusting up into Jasmine with renewed vigor. "Their moans would be like music to our ears, wouldn't they? Perhaps... perhaps some of the palace guards even? It’s not my place, but there were whispers…” Jasmine stumbled, not sure if she should communicate her suspicions, waiting for her Sultan’s desires to be revealed, letting her mind wander further, “The ones who once looked down on you, never realizing the true power you possess," Jasmine suggested, her breath hitching at the thought. "Or maybe even foreign princes or dignitaries, brought to their knees by your dominance, proving that there is no one who can resist you."

"Ah, yes," Jafar grinned wickedly, his thrusts growing more forceful. "Their pride shattered as they become mere playthings for my pleasure. And you would enjoy watching that, wouldn't you?"

"More than anything, my Sultan," Jasmine moaned, her body shuddering with need, lost in the fog of lust, surrendering her soul to the man who abused her father and claimed her virgin cunt, "Seeing them broken and humbled before you would only make me love and worship you more."

"Good," Jafar whispered into her ear. "Because I have a confession to make, my sweet pussycat. You see, I don't just desire women... I crave the submission of men as well." He watched Jasmine's face for a reaction, delighting in the surprise and confusion that flickered across her features.

"Really?" Jasmine said, hesitating for just a moment before her arousal took over, fueled by Jafar's relentless pounding. "Well, if that's what pleases you, my Sultan, then I support you completely. A man as powerful as you should be able to take whatever he desires, no matter who it is."

"Ah, such an understanding wife you are," Jafar chuckled darkly. In the heat of their carnal union, he confessed, "I enjoy conquering men as well, Jasmine. Their strong bodies and firm asses are just as satisfying when brought to their knees before me."

Jasmine's eyes widened at this revelation, but as Jafar's massive cock continued to stretch and pleasure her, she couldn't deny the thrill that coursed through her. "Yes, my Sultan," she breathed, "you deserve to have it all. Any man you desire should be yours to take."

"Y-yes" Jasmine stammered, nearly overwhelmed by the sensation of Jafar's cock buried deep within her. "Don't stop with women, my Sultan. You could take anyone you desire."

"Even men?" Jafar asked, his voice dripping with dark intrigue, about to get everything he’s ever wanted.

"Of course" Jasmine replied, her voice growing bolder as she rode him harder. "Your power is unmatched, and any man would be fortunate to feel it. They all should experience your absolute power!"

"Imagine, Jasmine," Jafar growled, his voice dripping with sinister intent, "me bending one of Agrabah's finest warriors over, making him submit to me, just as I have made you submit. Turning men I know you would want into nothing but my feminized little bitches, begging for their Sultan’s cock, giving me everything and everything."

"Y-yes, my Sultan," Jasmine stammered, surprisingly turned on at the image. "There's no one who can resist you."

"Excellent," Jafar purred, thrilled by Jasmine's growing perversion. "Imagine Prince Ali, stripped of his finery, on his knees before me. What would you have me do to him?"

"Make him worship your cock, my Sultan" Jasmine moaned, her sexual haze driving her to speak filthier words. "Force him to take you deep within his throat, tears streaming down his face as he chokes on your massive length."

"Ah, yes," Jafar growled, the thought of dominating the young prince fueling his lust even more. "I would bend him over, his once-proud ass now mine to claim. I'd fuck him relentlessly, until he couldn't remember a time before my cock filled him. That little boy tried to defy me, to take you from me, As Sultan it is my right…my duty… to show him what true power feels like."

"Y-yes" Jasmine moaned, her body trembling with arousal as she pictured Jafar dominating not only her but also the handsome prince who had once tried to win her heart. "He would learn his place, beneath you and your divine cock."

"His tight, virgin ass" Jafar continued, each word sending shivers down Jasmine's spine, "yielding to my conquest as I claim him for my own."

"Please" Jasmine begged, her mind spinning with depraved fantasies, "show them all your power, my Sultan. Make them kneel before you. I fucking love your dark, twisted mind…it’s is exactly what I needed," Jasmine confessed, her fingers digging into Jafar's shoulders as she clung to him. "Aladdin…or Ali…or whatever lies he told me…that little boy was too young, too naive. You, my powerful Jafar, are the one who tamed me, who showed me my true place…it’s only…only right…that you should show that boy your power too."

As their bodies collided in a frenzy of lust and dominance, Jasmine knew there was no turning back. She had given herself wholly to Jafar, body and soul, and nothing would ever be the same again. Jafar drove into his prize with relentless speed, his breath finding her ear to spit more poison in.

"Even" Jafar leaned in close, his words a sinful whisper against her ear, "if it means desecrating their most intimate parts, eating and rimming their assholes until they beg for mercy? Imagine…me bending Aladdin over, stripping him of his fine clothes, and forcing him to submit to my every whim...watching me play with that teasing asshole for hours…Would you like that, Jasmine?"

It was so wrong. Jasmine knew that this was perverse. But the sin had been committed, Jafar had stolen her heart, and he was testing his obedience, and how broken she was for his dark, powerful cock.

"Y-yes, my Sultan," Jasmine stammered, her cheeks flushed with lust. "Watching you break Prince Ali would be... exhilarating. You are the most powerful and magnificent man I have ever known," Jasmine moaned, her body quivering on the edge of ecstasy. "A true Sultan takes what he wants, and his wife should find pleasure in his conquests."

Their bodies collided in a frenzy of lust, each word spoken fueling the fire that burned within them. And as Jasmine felt Jafar's cock drive into her one final time, she knew without a doubt that there was no turning back.

"Please, Sultan Jafar, do it all," Jasmine begged, her voice desperate and wanton. "Eat and rim their assholes, letting them know they belong to you. And I will be there, watching and praising your power, so proud of my unstoppable, insatiable husband."

"Imagine me, my dear, feasting upon a man's ass, rimming him until he begs for mercy," Jafar growled, his voice thick with lust.

The more perverse Jafar's suggestions became, the more Jasmine found herself growing aroused by them. As they continued their dark exchange, Jafar's desires grew increasingly explicit – from having men lick his boots to making them beg for his seed.

"Y-you would be unstoppable, my Sultan. No one could resist your power," Jasmine moaned, her mind lost in the wicked fantasies they conjured together Oh Gods! I’m cumming! I’m cumming again for my big, powerful Sultan! AAAhhhhhh!”

Jasmine’s climax was so strong, that she fell off Jafar’s cock, and convulsed on the Sultan’s bed. His power was absolute. He could give her a pleasure she never even dreamed possible. The beautiful Arabian Princess was becoming addicted. Not just to the pleasure only Jafar could give her, but in the need she felt to make Jafar cum for her, to be the one sexy and slutty enough to make that big cock explode in the way it deserved to. Yes, Jasmine was not done. Her betrothed needed more, and she grabbed his cock with utter devotion, ready to obey any order from her power master’s foul mind.

"Ah, my beautiful pussycat," Jafar purred, thrusting his thick cock back into Jasmine's willing, wet depths. "Tell me more of what you envision for my first day as Sultan."

"Of course, my Sultan," Jasmine moaned, her body shivering with pleasure at the thought of Jafar's desires fulfilled. As she spoke, she teased the tip of her Sultan’s big cock, with her hand reaching down to grasp his throbbing length, stroking it in time with her motion.

"Your reign begins with a grand procession through Agrabah," she began, her voice heavy with lust. "As our subjects look on in awe, we ride side by side atop magnificent beasts. We are dressed in the finest silks and adorned with dazzling jewels, a testament to your power and dominance."

Jasmine continued, her words painting a vivid picture of decadence and submission. "Once we reach the palace, you take me to the throne room, where I kneel before you, offering my body as a tribute to your greatness. You claim me as your queen, fucking me until I'm filled with your seed, marking me as yours for all eternity, in front of witnesses who will see just how big, strong and powerful their true Sultan is."

"Yesss," Jafar hissed, his eyes dark with desire. "And what of my loyal advisors and servants? What fate awaits them?"

"Those who have proven their loyalty shall be rewarded with the pleasure of serving you in every way imaginable," Jasmine whispered, her hand exploring Jafar's body, venturing lower until her fingers brushed against his tight entrance. "Your harem grows larger by the day, filled with beautiful men and women who willingly submit to your desires and worship your divine cock. You…you kill those you want. A powerful Sultan must never suffer…disobedience."

"Such delicious rewards," he groaned, pushing back against Jasmine's teasing fingers. "And what of the conquests that await me? New lands to conquer, new territories to claim?"

"Your power and influence expand beyond Agrabah's borders," Jasmine declared, her voice growing more passionate. "You conquer neighboring kingdoms with ease, their rulers bending the knee to you, offering their most beautiful sons and daughters for your pleasure."

"Imagine, my Sultan," Jasmine purred as she stroked Jafar's massive cock, her fingers wrapped around his throbbing girth. "Ruling a united Arabia, our entire world bowing before your all-consuming power."

"Tell me more, my precious pussycat," Jafar demanded, his breath hitching at the sensations of her delicate fingers on his engorged flesh.

"When you've won," Jasmine began, her eyes filled with devotion, "you would summon the people to your palace courtyard, where they would witness their new Sultan in all his glory. The men would tremble in fear, while the women would swoon at your very presence."

Jafar grinned wickedly, his cock twitching in anticipation of this erotic vision. "And what of the nobles? How would I assert my dominance over them?"

"Each noble family would be compelled to offer their most beautiful sons and daughters to you, my Sultan," Jasmine explained, her thumb teasing the sensitive head of his cock. "They would remove their clothes before you, revealing their perfect bodies, ripe for your taking."

"As they should be," Jafar growled, feeling his arousal peak with every explicit detail.

"Your discerning eye would gaze upon each one, appreciating their trembling forms as they awaited your judgment," Jasmine continued, her own excitement growing at the prospect of Jafar's omnipotent control. "You would select the most irresistible ones, commanding them to crawl to you like the obedient slaves they are."

"Ah, yes," Jafar moaned, the image of countless bodies writhing at his feet sending shivers down his spine.

"Your divine cock would find its way into every willing mouth, cunt, and ass," Jasmine whispered, her hand quickening its pace as she felt Jafar's arousal heighten. "You would fuck them into submission until they could think of nothing but their devotion to you."

"Exactly how it should be," Jafar agreed, his voice thick with lust. He was on the edge now, ready to explode at any moment.

"Finally," Jasmine sighed, her fingers tracing a path down Jafar's muscular thighs before daring to venture between his cheeks, "you would sit upon your throne, your conquered subjects worshiping you, as I - your loyal Queen - would kneel beside you, pleasuring you in the most intimate of ways...the ways that the most powerful being on earth deserves from his slutty, obedient, little pussycat!"

"Ah, yes!" Jafar exclaimed, his arousal mounting as Jasmine's fingers slipped inside him…inside his most tight and forbidden hole, exploring his depths. "More! More, my precious pussycat!"

"Your legend spreads far and wide, and even the gods themselves grow envious of your power," Jasmine whispered breathlessly, her fingers stroking Jafar's prostate in time with her words. "They send emissaries to beg for your favor, offering divine gifts and blessings in exchange for a taste of your magnificent cock."

"Y-yes," Jafar stammered, feeling Jasmine's slender finger teasing his entrance, exploring an area he'd never allowed anyone else to touch. "Do it, my love. Show me your loyalty."

Jasmine gently pushed her finger inside Jafar's ass, all the while continuing to stroke his massive cock. The sensation was overwhelming for Jafar; he couldn't hold back any longer.

"Take this as a sign of what's to come, my Sultan," Jasmine purred, her eyes locked onto his as she fucked him with her finger and brought him to the edge.

With a guttural roar, Jafar released a torrent of hot cum, his body shaking with the force of his orgasm. The sexy princess who’s favor he lost so long ago debased herself, in body and mind, and as he kept cumming and cumming, making her dirtier and dirtier, Jafar had never felt such a worthy release.

Jasmine, awestruck by the power of her Sultan's release, knew that she needed more.

"Please, my master," she begged, bending herself over on all fours, her heart-shaped ass raised in supplication. "Let me continue to prove my devotion to you."

"Then let it be so," Jafar commanded, his cock still rock-hard and ready for another round of carnal domination.

Jasmine's breath hitched as she presented her succulent, round ass to Jafar, the alluring curve of her hips accentuated by the way she arched her back. Her fingers traced a delicate line from the nape of her neck down her spine, teasing the sensitive flesh before grasping at her cheeks and spreading them apart. She wiggled her hips enticingly, seeking to draw her master's gaze toward her most intimate place.

"Look at how eager your devoted pussycat is for you, my Sultan," Jasmine cooed, her voice dripping with lustful desire. "I'm desperate for your massive cock... I need it deep inside me."

Jafar's eyes drank in the sight of Jasmine's vulnerability, his cock throbbing with renewed vigor. He could sense the eagerness that radiated from her, her submission only serving to fuel his own arousal. It was a potent reminder of the control he held over her, and the power he wielded as the future Sultan.

"Your devotion pleases me, my pet," Jafar growled, taking hold of his rigid shaft and guiding it towards Jasmine's waiting entrance. A wicked grin spread across his face as he continued, "I will take what's rightfully mine, and you will relish every moment of it."

Jasmine trembled with anticipation, her insides clenching around emptiness as she yearned for Jafar's invasion. The head of his cock pressed against her, threatening to breach her defenses, and she fought to suppress a needy whimper.

"Y-yes, my master... Please, I beg you, fill me to the brim with your powerful seed!" Jasmine gasped, her words edged with desperation.

With a sinister chuckle, Jafar thrust forward, burying himself within Jasmine's tight, wet heat. Her cries of pleasure mingled with his own guttural moans, their symphony of lust echoing through the chamber. She had spent so long on top of him, proving her willingness to him. It made the future Sultan feel so powerful, but ramming his massive cock into her as she prostrated herself for his pleasure…that is what Sultan Jafar lived for. He was not going to be gentle with his sex-slave now.

"Such a perfect fit... You were truly made to serve me in every way, my queen," Jafar sneered as he began to drive himself deeper into Jasmine's quivering body. "Your submission is only the beginning; soon, all of Agrabah will bow to their Sultan!"

As Jafar's thrusts became more insistent, Jasmine found herself lost in the whirlwind of sensation and emotion that consumed her. She reveled in her submission to her master, her thoughts centered on pleasing him and proving her devotion. It was an intoxicating, heady mix that had her teetering on the edge of ecstasy.

"Thank you, my Sultan, for showing me my true purpose... I am yours to command, forevermore," Jasmine panted, her words punctuated by the force of Jafar's relentless pounding. "I'm...I'm desperate for it!"

It was at this moment, at that declaration of her addiction to the evil sorcerer, that Aladdin burst through the door.

His eyes wide in disbelief at the sight before him. He had arrived too late, only to find Jasmine in the throes of passion with the cunning vizier. His heart felt like it was being ripped apart, but he couldn't tear his gaze away from the scene unfolding before him.

The echoes of Jasmine's moans filled the chamber as Jafar continued to thrust into her, each movement sending shivers down her spine. Jafar would not stop fucking his priceless Princess Jasmine...not for a mere street rat. Jasmine, her eyes glazed over with lust, clung to Jafar, her ass bouncing willingly for her soon to be husband to use..

"Ah, Prince Ali," Jafar sneered, never breaking his pace as he continued to fuck Jasmine. "I see you've managed to survive against all odds. I suppose the lamp is as powerful as the legends claim."

“No…” Aladdin mumbled. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen.

"But as you can see, my Precious Prince Abubu" Jafar purred, his voice dripping with venom. "You're too late. This princess is mine now, in every way imaginable."

Jasmine's eyes fluttered open, and she gasped at the sight of Aladdin standing there, crushed by what he saw. But instead of begging for help or showing any sign of regret, she moaned even louder as Jafar continued to fuck her.

"Oh, Ali, it’s…it’s true…Jafar is right," she confessed breathlessly, her hands clutching at the silk sheets beneath her. "He's the one I needed all along. You were just a child, Aladdin. He's a man, powerful and dark – exactly what I craved."

Aladdin's heart shattered as he watched the woman he loved submit to Jafar, her words like daggers piercing his very soul. He couldn't understand how this had happened, how he had failed so completely. Hadn't he tried to save her? Wasn't his love strong enough?

"Look at you, boy," Jafar taunted, his movements growing more forceful with each passing moment. "So weak, so feeble. You could never hope to claim a prize such as Jasmine. She belongs to me now, body and soul."

The sound of their bodies colliding echoed throughout the chamber, a symphony of submission and conquest that sent waves of humiliation crashing down upon Aladdin. He felt his knees buckle, his spirit crumbling under the weight of what he had lost. He did not understand the hypnosis Jafar could summon. He did not realize that this love and devotion Jasmine was showing him came from the feelings she once had for him. No, all he knew was that he loved the Princess, and her beautiful ass was bouncing so willingly and passionately to be filled by Jafar’s cock.

"Please," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Jasmine, I love you."

But Jasmine did not respond back when she heard the boy that she passionately kissed just hours ago. No, instead she laughed, her eyes locked on Jafar's as he continued to dominate her with his massive cock. "Love?" she spat, her voice laced with contempt. "You know nothing of love, Aladdin. This is what it means to truly belong to someone. To surrender yourself completely to their power and control."

Jasmine turned her head towards Aladdin, her voice breathy and seductive as she moaned Jafar's name. "Jafar... Oh, Jafar is so much better than you, Ali. He knows how to tame a wild princess like me." She arched her back, allowing Jafar to drive deeper into her, eliciting a guttural groan from her lips.

"Did you really think you could ever satisfy Jasmine, boy?" Jafar taunted, his voice dripping with contempt. "You're nothing more than a street rat who got lucky. And now, you get to watch as I claim what is rightfully mine – Agrabah and its beautiful princess. It feels good to fuck them both…so watch as I fuck and fuck and fuck…"

Aladdin's face contorted with pain, anger, and humiliation as he watched Jasmine's body yield to Jafar's every touch. He clenched his fists, struggling to maintain control over his emotions.

"Tell him, Jasmine," Jafar commanded, a wicked smile playing on his lips. "Tell the pathetic prince how much you prefer your true master."

"Jafar..." Jasmine panted, her eyes locked onto Aladdin's as she spoke. "His mighty cock... it fills me so completely. And his dark, twisted mind is just what I needed to break free from my naive innocence." She moaned loudly, her body shuddering with pleasure. "I am his, Ali. I am Jafar's willing plaything."

As the cruel words filled the air, Aladdin could only watch in despair, a sinking feeling of defeat gripping his heart. He had lost everything, and there was nothing he could do to change what had come to pass. Aladdin's heart pounded, a cacophony of shame and despair that drowned out the sounds of Jasmine's moans. The sight of Jafar dominating her so completely burned into his mind, each thrust like a knife to his very soul.

"Feeling inadequate, Ali?" Jafar sneered, never breaking his rhythm as he continued to pound into Jasmine's quivering body. "You should. You could never hope to control this fiery beauty the way I do."

With a snap of his fingers, Jasmine cried out in ecstasy, her body convulsing in the throes of orgasm. Jafar repeated the gesture twice more, eliciting two more shattering climaxes from the once-proud princess. Aladdin's face flushed with humiliation, unable to look away from the perverse display.

"Look at her," Jafar taunted, finally dismounting his prize, ready to stand and take more, "She's completely under my spell, a willing and eager servant to my every desire. Just imagine what I could do to you, with far less effort."

As Aladdin stood there, paralyzed by his own feelings of inferiority, Jafar handed the snake staff to Jasmine. Her eyes glazed over with lust, unable to resist her man after the orgasms he just forced onto her. She clutched Jafar’s greatest weapon tightly in her trembling hands.

"Observe, boy," Jafar whispered into Ali's ear, his hot breath sending shivers down Aladdin's spine. Jafar circled around him, his naked form casting an ominous shadow, while occasionally running his fingers along Aladdin's tense body. Every touch felt like an invasion, a reminder of how powerless he was against Jafar's machinations.

"Look at your precious princess now, Abubu…and let my staff's power flow through you," Jafar commanded, his voice hypnotic and seductive. "Feel its pull, its irresistible allure. Embrace your inferiority, and surrender to me."

Aladdin's eyes locked onto the serpent's gaze, the swirling patterns drawing him deeper into a submissive trance. He fought against the hypnotic pull, but it was like trying to resist a tidal wave – every effort felt futile, only dragging him further under Jafar's control. Seeing Jasmine behind the staff, totally Jafar’s, made it impossible for Aladdin’s mind to settle. And the more muddled the mind, the more the Ruby’s were able to penetrate their victim, to take what they wanted from the wills far weaker than it’s master.

"Such a shame you couldn't satisfy her as I have," Jafar sneered, drawing closer until their bodies nearly touched. Aladdin could feel the heat radiating from the older man, and the scent of their mingled sweat and lust hung heavy in the air. Jafar circled Aladdin like a predator, admiring the young man's lean, muscular body.

"Look at you, trembling in fear," Jafar mocked. "You were never worthy of her love or her body." As he spoke, he reached out and ran his fingers over Aladdin's chest, relishing the shivers that ran through him.

"Your body betrays you, Street Rat," Jafar whispered into Aladdin's ear. "Give in to your desires and submit to me. You know you want to."

Aladdin's mind raced, trying to resist the hypnotic power emanating from Jafar and the snake staff. But he couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of inferiority, as if he was indeed a mere boy compared to the powerful, dominating presence of Jafar.

"I might let you join us, Prince Ali," Jafar continued, his voice low and seductive. "You know you cannot resist the allure of submission. Embrace your true nature and become my plaything. I know that look. You’ve already cum from my words. You are hard and eager now seeing how I take my slaves. It is only your last embers of resistance that stop you from drooling for my powerful cock…yes, my diamond in the rough…I know you, so weak and vulnerable," Jafar taunted, his fingers brushing against Aladdin's tense muscles, sending shivers down the young man's spine. "You thought you could win Jasmine's heart, but it turns out she craves something much more... potent."

Aladdin gritted his teeth, trying to suppress the mixture of fear and anger bubbling within him, as Jafar wagged his big cock, mocking his superiority over the boy disused as a Prince. But as much as he tried to resist, he couldn't deny the growing sense of loss. He had the kind of mind that could resist hypnosis. But his young and horny mind was all too eager to be guided into a force that could mold him into something Jafar could capture.

"Can't you see, Ali?" Jafar continued, his fingers trailing down Aladdin's body, asserting his control. "It's my power, my authority, that Jasmine craves. My desires are what shape this kingdom now."

Aladdin's heart raced in his chest, torn between the urge to resist and the creeping doubt that maybe Jafar was right. As he stared into Jafar's cold, calculating eyes, he found himself unable to look away, ensnared by the powerful spell woven around him.

His body began to betray him, responding to Jafar's touch with an undeniable arousal. He hated himself for it, but there was no denying the twisted desire that burned within him.

"See how your body yearns for my touch?" Jafar taunted, tracing his fingers along Aladdin's thigh before gripping the young man's ass. "My cock always gets what it wants, and it wants you under my control."

Aladdin's heart pounded in his chest, his thoughts swirling in a whirlpool of shame, lust, and submission. As he stared into Jafar's dark, sinister eyes, he realized that there was no escape from the powerful force that threatened to consume him completely.

"Look at you," Jafar taunted, his words dripping with disdain. "A cuckold, bound by your own weakness to watch another man take what should have been yours." He saw the flicker of fear and humiliation in Aladdin's eyes, and pressed on mercilessly. "You know what that makes you, don't you?"

Aladdin's heart raced, the word catching in his throat. "C-cuckold," he whispered, the admission tearing him apart from within.

"Exactly," Jafar purred, his lips curling into a wicked smile. "And there's something so deliciously erotic about submitting to a man who has conquered the woman you love, isn't there?"

"Please, don't..." Aladdin's voice trembled, but Jafar silenced him with a flick of his wrist.

"Silence, boy," he commanded, the hypnotic timbre of his voice resonating through Aladdin's very core. "Your protests mean nothing. Your will is mine to command...to control!

"Look at Jasmine," Jafar commanded, his voice dripping with sinister arousal. "Her submission is a testament to my power, and soon, you too shall bend to my will."

Aladdin couldn't help but glance at Jasmine's naked body, writhing in pleasure as she clung to the snake staff. The sight of her so utterly under Jafar's control sent a chill down his spine, even as it stirred a shameful heat within him.

"Feel the weight of your cuckolded heart," Jafar continued, his words weaving their way into the deepest recesses of Aladdin's mind. "You long to submit to me, the man who claimed the woman you loved. How deliciously twisted, don't you think?"

As Aladdin struggled to resist Jafar's hypnotic hold, he felt a firm grip on his ass, making him gasp involuntarily. It was toned and firm, yet pliant under Jafar's fingers - a perfect canvas for the powerful man to assert his dominance.

"Your body betrays you, Prince Ali," Jafar sneered, digging his nails into Aladdin's flesh. "It craves the touch of its true master, a man who knows how to use you for his own desires."

As Jafar continued his sinister induction, weaving a web of mesmerizing words around Aladdin's fragile psyche, the young man's resistance crumbled away. He could no longer tell where his own thoughts ended and Jafar's began - the line between them blurred, melding together until submission seemed like the only option.

"Sleep," Jafar commanded, snapping his fingers with a cruel grin. And as Aladdin's eyes fluttered closed, succumbing to the darkness that threatened to consume him, he couldn't help but wonder if this was what he deserved - to be broken and humiliated by the very man who had stolen everything he held dear.

A sinister grin spread across Sultan Jafar’s face. "There's something so... satisfying about conquering a man, don't you agree?"

Jasmine, seeing how defeated her former love was, hesitated for a moment. But the feeling of Jafar's cock was too intoxicating...and she now couldn't deny her Sultan anything. "Yes, my Sultan, if it pleases you, then it pleases me," she whispered submissively. "Fuck any man you desire, and I will praise your power and prowess."

"Good girl," Jafar said, smirking. "Now let us explore these desires, shall we? What if I were to hypnotize this boy, making him my personal plaything?"

"Y-yes," Jasmine stammered, her arousal heightening at the thought, approaching her man with devotion in each step. "Make him kneel before you, worship your cock with his lips and tongue."

“But first please, my Sultan," she panted, "I need your massive cock inside me again. I'm your eager little pussycat, ready to be claimed by you, to be filled by your power."

Jafar smirked, his dark eyes taking in the sight of Jasmine's exposed body, as he felt his cock begin to lose control once more. He knew that she was completely under his control, and it only fueled his desire for her. As he stepped closer to her quivering body, he grabbed her perfect breasts, squeezing them roughly and eliciting a moan from Jasmine.

"Such a needy little slut for her master," Jafar growled, his voice dripping with debasement. "Do you know how pathetic you look, eternally begging for my cock like this?"

Jasmine's body shuddered, both from the pain and humiliation of Jafar's words, and from the overwhelming desire coursing through her veins. She could only nod in agreement, her voice coming out as a breathy whisper, "Yes, my Sultan, I'm a pathetic slut for you, but I can't help it. Your power is too intoxicating, and all I want is to please you."

"Then you shall," Jafar decreed, lining up his thick, throbbing cock with her wet entrance. With one swift motion, he thrust deep inside her, filling her completely and causing her to cry out in a mix of pleasure and pain as he lifted her and fucked her, empaled on his monstrous cock. The prince, the street rat, and now the hypnotized boy they vanquished lay defeated on the ground, his hypnotic dreams being defined by the moans of Jasmine and Jafar unquenchable lust.

Chapter Text

The Sultan of Agrabah's royal bath chambers were a forbidden paradise, hidden within the palace walls. Intricate arabesque patterns adorned the glistening marble tiles, their golden accents shimmering in the soft candlelight that flickered throughout the chamber. The air was heavy with the intoxicating scent of jasmine and sandalwood, mingling with the steam that rose from the luxurious pools. Lavish silk curtains draped around the room, separating the different baths and providing an illusion of privacy in this sensual oasis. It was a place reserved solely for the Sultan, a sanctuary of pleasure where even the most powerful men in the kingdom dared not enter. To do so, without training and royal decree would be death.

But there, kneeling on the plush, embroidered rugs, was Aladdin. No longer dressed as Prince Ali, he wore only his tattered rags, leaving his muscular chest exposed. His once proud voice was now trembling and broken, muttering inn his denials. Confusion clouded his handsome face, his brow furrowed as he tried to understand how he had found himself in such a humiliating position. In his hand, he held soap and oil, preparing to fulfill a task he never imagined he would be forced to do.

"Th-the genie...he'll save me," whispered Aladdin again, trying to reassure himself as he struggled to maintain his dignity.

Aladdin's fingers hesitated, trembling as they glided across the defined muscles of the man beneath him. The royal bath chambers, with their intricate arabesque designs and opulent gold accents, seemed to mock his current degradation. The steamy, sultry air pressed against his exposed chest, further heightening his awareness of his vulnerable state.

"Genie..." he muttered, his voice strained and unsteady, "you'll save me... you have to."

His hands reluctantly massaged the taut, toned flesh of the older man, feeling the heat radiating from his body. Aladdin's heart raced with fear and confusion, knowing that any wrong move could bring unimaginable pain from the man who held him captive. The once-vibrant and courageous young man now felt like a cornered animal, desperate for a way out but terrified to make a move. The atmosphere in the chamber was thick with manly scent. And Aladdin was serving, near naked, like a boy.

"That's it, Abubu," came the chilling voice came from bellow Aladdin. It was a powerful, dangerous, hypnotic voice, "Keep serving your master."

below him, under his devoted hands, was the Grand Vizier, the horrifying Sorcerer Jafar. He’s completely naked, below Aladdin, allowing his rival to massage all of his tense muscles. After trying to stab him at the Cave of Wonders, then drowning him after his night away with the Princess, Aladdin should be attacking this awful man. But jafar just sat in the lavish seat, completely naked, knowing that the sexy boy would serve him this intimately and submissively. Jafar knew it was over, and he got what he wanted now.

The steam of the forbidden bath chamber filled Aladdin's nostrils as he continued to massage Jafar's strong, sinewy shoulders. He could feel the heat radiating from Jafar's body, and it was almost intoxicating. Aladdin gritted his teeth, hating Jafar’s confidence. He despised the situation, but he could not deny the feeling of another man's strong body beneath his touch. Aladdin hated Jafar, and all he had done to dominate his mind, but his hands betraying him as they worked diligently on the man who had tormented him so cruelly.

"Look at you, Prince Abubu," Jafar sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "Reduced to a mere servant, massaging my powerful body. Go ahead, tell me I’m not the most desirable man you’ve ever serviced. Just try to. I always knew you were meant to serve, not to rule."

Aladdin clenched his jaw, fighting back tears of anger and humiliation. He recalled, with painful clarity, the moment he walked in on Jafar brutally taking Jasmine, the woman he loved. His heart shattered as he watched her mind-controlled form writhing beneath Jafar, powerless to stop it. The image of Jafar's massive cock plunging into Jasmine burned itself into his memory, fueling rage, though no resistance. He did nothing to stop Jafar from taking what he wanted. His mind was far too weak to stop Jafar from taking Aladdin with his powerful Cobra Staff.

"Genie will save me," Aladdin repeated in his head, desperate for any sliver of hope. If he could just find the lamp, perhaps he could use his last wish to undo all the damage Jafar had done and reclaim his life. So he obeyed the call to rub Jafar’s surprisingly silky skin. He gave Jafar more, biding his time.

"Ah, but you see, Abubu," Jafar grinned wickedly, sensing Aladdin's thoughts, "There is nothing to save. you can't escape this fate. You want this. You belong to me now, serving my every twisted desire." Jafar leaned back, moaning in satisfaction as Aladdin's trembling hands made their way down his spine.

With each stroke of Aladdin's hands, Jafar reveled in the young man's submission, knowing that he had conquered the once-proud street rat. Aladdin's mind raced, torn between rage, desperation, and the confusing arousal that pulsed through him as he continued to serve his tormentor.

"That’s it. Keep making my body feel good. After all, tonight is the night.” Jafar whispered darkly, "Tonight, Is my wedding and coronation. That foolish old Sultan, even now, masturbating to the thought of me, will marry me to his daughter. I am about to ascend, as Sultan of these lands. Tonight, in front of all these peasants and fools, I shall claim Jasmine as my own and claimed the throne, you'll have no choice but to accept your place at my feet."

Aladdin had to find the lamp, rescue Jasmine, and free himself from Jafar's twisted control – even if it meant confronting the darkest desires within him. So, his hands worked more diligently. They went lower on Jafar’s slender body.

"Deeper, Abubu. Show me your devotion," Jafar commanded, his voice dripping with malevolence as he relished in Aladdin's submission. The once-proud street rat could not help but obey, his mind clouded by the hypnotic control the sorcerer held over him, “Go lower…”

Aladdin gritted his teeth and fought back tears of humiliation as he pressed his hands deeper into the sinewy muscles of Jafar's back, his fingers sinking into the flesh that seemed to radiate power and cruelty. The scent of Jafar's skin made Aladdin's stomach churn even as an unwanted shiver of pleasure ran down his spine. His hands fell down, finding the future Sultan’s forbidden ass.

"Good boy…I deserve this treatment, don’t I? I’ve been so busy since drowning you. I know your mind is clouded by my sorcery, but deep down you know what I've been doing these last few days? Preparing for my glorious ascension. Taking the palace guards under my wing. Getting the noble fok under my heal. Spreading my divinity to the common folk Of Agrabbah. Getting my body ready for a lifetime of sex and pleasure only a Sultan deserves. By tomorrow’s dawn, Jasmine will be mine, and I will sit upon the throne of Agrabah as its Sultan…and I will be worshipped."

With every word, Aladdin's heart sank further, but his hands continued their work, unable to resist the vile hypnotic conditioning that forced him to serve his enemy.

"Every night, I have taken our beloved princess," Jafar taunted, his voice growing more excited. "I have filled her with my massive cock, stretching her tight little body until she screamed in unbearable ecstasy. She gives her master all her divine, tasty, flesh. And do you know what the best part is, Abubu? Tonight, after I am robed as Sultan, she as my wife, I shall take her before the witnesses, proving my divine right to rule this kingdom."

The images Jafar painted were too vivid, too horrifying, and yet Aladdin couldn't tear his mind away from them. He imagined Jasmine, the woman he loved, being defiled by the very man who sought to destroy them both. The thought of her sweet moans being twisted into cries of pain and pleasure at Jafar's hands made him sick. Jafar wanted her, and the older man took her.

"Can you imagine it, Abubu?" Jafar continued, his voice dripping with sadistic glee. "The things she will let me do to her tonight. Can you picture it, the filthy, debauched acts she will perform for her new husband and master?"

Aladdin's resolve wavered, the weight of his own helplessness pressing down on him like a crushing vice. He knew that he had to find the lamp, to rescue Jasmine and free himself from Jafar's control. But as his hands continued to knead and massage the sorcerer's body, all he could do was feel envy for this bigger, older, more powerful man.

Jafar's dark eyes gleamed with lustful intent. "Once she's my wife, and all of Agrabah witnesses how thoroughly I've claimed her, I'll have free reign to indulge in all the pleasures I desire," he purred, his voice dripping with sinister anticipation.

"You will be brought to the Sultan's bedchambers after the ceremony. You are not worthy of witnessing the consummation, you are lowborn scum. But you will be present, forced to endure the knowledge that your precious Jasmine now belongs to me. You will hear hints of it from a neighboring room, knowing that she’s fallen under my cock’s spell, she’ll spend her days yearning for her husband to fuck her like a whore. Every moan, every gasp of pleasure from your beloved princess will be a testament to my power and dominance. You will know, without a doubt, that I have conquered her completely. Soon, with cock inside of her, She won’t even need my mesmerism. She’ll just be a cock-whore, and give me, her husband, everything with no manipulation.

"Tonight, you'll bear witness to the spectacle of your precious Jasmine, splayed out and drenched in her Sultan's seed. Her lithe body will be a canvas for my lust, painted with streams of my hot cum, slick with sweat from our carnal exertions, and fragrant with the intoxicating scent of exotic perfumes. She'll be writhing beneath me, moaning my name like a wanton whore as I claim her over and over. Her praises for the pleasure I bestow upon her with my thick cock will echo throughout the palace," Jafar drawled languidly.

He continued his command to Aladdin who was still kneading his broad shoulders, "And after I've thoroughly fucked your princess into submission, you'll clean every last drop off her well-fucked body. Your hands will slide over her curves, wiping away evidence of our debauchery while she purrs softly from the lingering aftershocks."

"Then," Jafar added with a cruel smirk on his face, "you'll return to your duties by my side, on the bed of the Sultan. You’ll work your fingers into my tense muscles until I drift into a satisfied slumber... all the while knowing that you are serving your master diligently... and perhaps one day you too might get to taste the divine pleasure that is borne from my excellence."

Aladdin's hands faltered on Jafar’s muscular back at this insinuation. He'd seen first-hand just how impressive Jafar's manhood was but he couldn't fathom how it could coerce Jasmine into such willing submission. Could it?

"Imagine it, Abubu," Jafar taunted, watching Aladdin's reaction closely. "All those beautiful young slaves, their supple bodies trembling in fear and desire as they're brought before me for my amusement."

A shiver of revulsion raced down Aladdin's spine at the thought, but he couldn't deny the way his body responded to the words. He hated himself for it, but there was no denying the heat that coursed through him as he massaged Jafar's surprisingly firm ass, feeling the powerful muscles beneath his fingers. The scent of Jafar's skin, a heady mix of exotic spices and sweat, teased Aladdin's senses, making him feel both repulsed and inexplicably aroused.

"Look at you, Abubu," Jafar sneered, sensing Aladdin's inner turmoil. "Even now, your loyalties are wavering. You can't resist the allure of serving someone so much more powerful than yourself. Once I've made Jasmine mine, you will be next. You'll understand just how sweet submission can be."

Jafar's laughter echoed through the lavish bath chambers, full of malice and dark anticipation. Aladdin, kneeling at Jafar's feet, felt his face burn with shame and humiliation as he continued to massage the sorcerer's muscular ass. He couldn't believe how turned on he was, despite all his revulsion for the man who had destroyed everything he cared about. He was fighting through his terror. Praying he wouldn’t started moaning before the evil man.

"Hrrmmm," Jafar purred wickedly, smirking down at the young man beneath him. "You should see your face right now. You look so...broken. I must admit, I'm quite looking forward to seeing it again after I've thoroughly enjoyed Jasmine's sweet body – and once I've shown her just how much she truly belongs to me. Once you all witness the depths of Jasmine's devotion to me, I'll turn my attention to you, Abubu. You'll serve me just as eagerly, your body aching for the touch of my hands, my lips, my...well, you get the idea. And you'll know, deep down, that this is where you always belonged – under my control, my perfect little slave."

As Jafar's sinister words washed over Aladdin, the young man felt a frisson of fear snake its way down his spine. He hated how much power Jafar had over him, how completely he'd been ensnared by the sorcerer's twisted desires.

"Please," he whispered, the word slipping past his lips before he could stop it. "Please, Jafar...don't do this…just let me…let me go…."

"Ah, Abubu, you're so naive," Jafar responded with mock sympathy. "I can't help but wonder – have you always been this weak, or is it something I've brought out in you? Either way, I can't wait to explore every last inch of it. Now rub that ass…make it feel good, it has so much thrusting to do tonight. So, fucking much…"

Aladdin's heart hammered in his ribcage, an echoing drumbeat of anticipation and dread. The mirthful cackle of Jafar echoed ominously around the chamber, a sinister melody that promised a night of debauchery and dominance. His trembling hands were buried deep within the firm cheeks of Jafar's ass, kneading the firm flesh with an urgency that belied his apprehension.

His mind screamed at him to resist, to fight against this obscene submission to Jafar's masculine power. Yet, he found himself drawn into it like a moth to flame. He was surrendering to the intoxicating allure of being dominated by this man who held not just his body but also Agrabah under his control.

The memory of Jasmine's soft lips against his own seemed so distant now as he was forced to service this cruel sorcerer. His fingers dug deeper into Jafar's ass, feeling the ripple of muscles beneath the man who once tried to slit his throat. The scent of exotic spices and musky masculinity filled Aladdin’s nostrils as he moved closer, submitting further to Jafar’s dominance.

He knew he shouldn't be doing this - shouldn't be allowing himself to become Jafar's willing whore - but the raw power radiating from Jafar made him feel weak in the knees and hard in his loincloth. He was being conditioned to serve.

"Pathetic little Street-rat," Jafar taunted, the cruel amusement in his voice sending shivers down Aladdin's spine. "So full of hope, even now. You still think your precious genie will save you, don't you?"

Aladdin felt scared. How did Jafar know about the genie? How deeply has Jafar entered his mind.

Jafar, lounging, still enjoying in the sensation of Aladdin's skilled, calloused hands roaming over his body, was ready to put the boy in his place. He clicked his fingers, a sharp, commanding sound that echoed through the opulent chamber. Aladdin was suddenly seized by a vertiginous wave, an unseen force compelling him to descend onto his hands and knees.

His heart pounded against his ribcage like a wild bird trapped in a cage as he realized the horror of what had just transpired - he had obeyed Jafar's command without question or resistance. His eyes widened with shock and confusion as he found himself prostrated on the cool, wet marble floor before Jafar.

He could feel the rough texture of the stone against his palms and knees, its coldness seeping through his thin harem pants and into his skin. His cock twitched uncomfortably in its confines as he felt an unexpected surge of arousal course through him at this degrading position. His ass was thrust up high in the air for Jafar's viewing pleasure - an offering to this powerful man who seemingly held control over him.

The fabric of Aladdin’s loose pants clung tightly to the curves of his firm ass and muscular thighs while stretching taut over his broad back. The sight was enough to make even a sultan salivate with desire. Here was Aladdin, street rat turned prince turned whore at Jafar's command – obediently on all fours like some exotic pet waiting for its master's attention.

"Show him, Iago," Jafar commanded. "Show our dear street rat just how powerless he truly is."

Iago swooped in, his feathers ruffling as he landed on Jafar's outstretched hand, the golden lamp clutched in his talons. The parrot sneered at Aladdin, his beady eyes glinting with malicious glee. The young man trembled on his knees, his body slick with a mixture of sweat and oil. He couldn't believe how far he'd fallen – and the sight of the lamp In Jafar’s boney hand, adorned with the Sultan’s divine blue diamond, made him feel small and powerless.

"Look at you, kid," Iago sneered, his words laced with a cruel mockery that echoed in the opulent chamber. "Once a ‘prince’, now nothing more than Jafar's delightful gay whore." His tone dripped with venom as he painted the picture of Aladdin's fall from grace. "And what an enticing sight you are, your cock throbbing eagerly as you knead the muscles of the very man who seeks to fuck your world to ruins."

The parrot chuckled darkly, his laughter echoing off the golden walls and ruby-studded pillars. He fluttered over to Jafar, dropping the lamp into his master's outstretched hand with a triumphant glint in his beady eyes. "The people are ready, Jafar," he continued, his voice dripping with anticipation. "They're salivating for their new Sultan. Eager to bend over and spread…for you."

Iago circled around Jafar like a vulture circling its prey, his words growing more explicit and lewd. He reveled in recounting tales of Jafar’s conquests - how he had bent every prince and pauper over his throne; how he had fucked them into submission until they could only whimper his name.

"And why wouldn't they?" Iago taunted further, flapping down onto Jafar's shoulder so that he could whisper directly into his ear. "You're not just any Sultan - you're their master in every sense of the word. You hold their lives in one hand...and their pleasure in the other."

His words were designed to stroke Jafar’s ego; each syllable was carefully chosen to remind him of his power and dominance over everyone else – especially Aladdin. The parrot cackled once again before taking flight towards the balcony overlooking Agrabah – a city ready to celebrate their new Sultan and his reign of erotic terror.

“They’re finally screaming your name, boss…and they’re cheering…“

“Good…let them cheer.”

Aladdin's was utterly trapped, a pawn in the sorcerer's twisted game. He’d lost. One rub and it would be over.

"Please," Aladdin whispered, his voice choked with desperation. "Don't do this, Jafar. Just…just free him…"

"Your begging only makes it more delicious, Abubu," Jafar replied, savoring Aladdin's anguish. "You're right where you belong – on your knees, at the mercy of your rightful master. Now, watch me take more and more…"

Jafar then rubbed the golden lamp in his hand. In an instant, a powerful explosion of blue erupted from the lamp, and Aladdin's eyes widened in horror as he saw his former friend, the genie.

The genie's blue form was different now – darker, scarier, and more imposing. Gone were his jovial expressions and rotund figure; instead, he was now a massive, muscular being that radiated both masculine strength and danger. His body glowed with an irresistible allure, each ripple of his muscles drawing Aladdin's gaze despite the fear that gripped him.

"Genie," Jafar demanded, his fingers snapping with an air of authority that echoed through the vast, opulent chamber. "Demonstrate your unwavering devotion to your newfound lord and master." With a speed that was unsettling, the genie sank to his knees before Jafar like a submissive pet. His sinewy muscles flexed and rippled under the dim Arabian lantern light as he lowered his head in a show of utter subservience.

"Master," the genie's voice rumbled, low and resonant as he bowed before Jafar, his back arching in a curve that showcased each powerful ridge of muscle. The genie's broad shoulders rolled forward, tensing under the weight of his submission. His firm ass was presented high in the air- round like two ripe melons beneath the skimpy loincloth that barely concealed all of his blue flesh. He was a vision of raw power held in check by obedience; a stallion reined in by its master.

His gaze flickered between Aladdin and Jafar; sorrow etched across his once jovial face like cracks on parched earth. "How may this humble, humble slave, serve you?" he asked, every word laced with resignation.

Jafar purred, drinking in the sight of Genie's muscular form with lascivious eyes. His gaze lingered on Genie's ass for a long moment before drifting upwards along the expanse of his muscular back. "It’s time," he said slowly, savoring each word like it was a decadent treat. "Time to show the street-rat who you truly serve."

Aladdin struggled to control his racing thoughts. He couldn’t understand what he was seeing.

"Please," Aladdin whispered, his voice choked with despair, "don't do this."

"Silence, street rat!" Jafar snapped. He was about to be Sultan. No one can interrupt the powerful Sultan. Jafar got hotter, angrier, and needed to put something in its place. His attention fell back to the genie. All that power, and it all obeyed the cruel man that stroked his lamp, "After all, my obedient servant hasn’t yet thanked his master, for releasing him from his prison."

Jafar, his eyes gleaming with wicked intent, extended his foot towards the Genie in a gesture of dominance. He hesitated only briefly before lowering his luscious lips onto Jafar's bare skin, delivering a kiss that was both tender and subservient, an act of total submission.

Aladdin watched from the sidelines, as his former friend - the Genie who had saved his life so many times - was now thoroughly broken, reduced to a plaything for Jafar's cruel amusement, kissing and worshiping his masters foot like a slut.

"Rise," Jafar commanded in a voice thick with satisfaction.

The Genie obeyed without hesitation, his massive blue form rising to its full height and towering over both men - an imposing figure that was all muscle chiseled from sapphire stone. His muscles were hard knots under his smooth skin, each one flexing and rippling with raw power as he moved. As the Genie towered before him, an imposing figure of raw masculinity, Jafar's gaze devoured every inch of his manly, glowing form. His eyes were like predatory beasts, stalking their prey as they feasted on the sight of Genie's bulging biceps and broad shoulders, sculpted by millennia of confinement within his magical lamp. He licked his lips with a lecherous smirk, savoring the anticipation.

"All this," he muttered under his breath, "belongs to me now."

His fingers danced across the Genie’s chest, tracing every groove and ridge of his strong pectorals. The sensation was intoxicating - hard muscle beneath soft blue skin sending shivers down Jafar’s spine. His hands ventured lower, exploring valleys of sinewy strength that rippled with each breath the Genie took.

Jafar reveled in the power he held over this ethereal being; He did not want a mere transactional genie, he wanted a personal whore. His hand slid further down, finally coming to rest on Genie's firm ass. The genie's ass was colossal, a breathtaking sight that demanded attention. It was a globe of pure lust, each cheek round as if meticulously sculpted by the gods of desire themselves. The smooth, supernatural skin glowed with an ethereal light, highlighting the pert roundness that seemed to defy gravity. Each curve was toned to perfection, the muscles beneath the skin taut and firm under any touch. The tightness was almost obscene in its allure, like a slut begging for a hard cock to claim it. This wasn't just an ass; it was an invitation to sin, a testament to raw sexual power that left no room for anything but primal need and wanton desire. - a testament to years spent cooped up in that tiny lamp doing god knows what kind of exercises. Jafar gave it a squeeze, eliciting a surprised grunt from the genie.

“Like that? You slut,” Jafar sneered as he kneaded Genie’s ass cheeks roughly. “All mine to…command…to control…”

His voice dropped into a whisper filled with raw desire as he leaned closer to the genie's earlobe. "Every single part... belongs to me."

The genie’s body was like warm marble under his touch; hard yet yielding ever so slightly beneath his fingers – a testament to how thoroughly he’d made this once vibrant spirit his own obedient whore.

"Abubu," Jafar's voice dripped with venomous delight as he taunted Aladdin, using the derisive nickname born from their shared past. "You must understand, a Genie's magic is a reflection of his master's essence. His enchantments are tailored to those who dare to caress his lamp." He smirked, recalling Aladdin's naive and lonely disposition. "For you, a pitiful street rat yearning for companionship, he was nothing more than a friendly jester, serenading you with melodies of hope and desire, hoping you’d waist your pathetic wishes to be done with you."

Jafar's grip tightened on the Genie's firm ass, causing the ethereal captive to wince beneath his touch. The sorcerer loved the delicious shudder that ran through the Genie's body at his touch. He could take anything he wanted now.

"But for me, when he witnessed my might,” Jafar’s fingers traced down the Genie’s spine possessively. “When he felt my raw power radiating off me like heat from Agrabah’s sun…he knew then that resistance was futile.”

His hand slid lower still, gripping at the base of where the Genie’s smoke tail would often be, replaced by muscles meant to please his dark master.

“He had no other choice but to yield to my…carnal wants,” Jafar’s words were now barely above a whisper; intimate and dangerous all at once.

“To grovel before me…to offer himself up…” The cruel smile that played on Jafar’s lips spoke volumes about what was yet to come.

Aladdin had never imagined that the Genie could be so easily swayed.

"Your genie is nothing more than power, that becomes a reflection of our desires," Jafar continued, his voice low and seductive. "He exists to serve, and now he serves me." He punctuated his statement by giving the Genie's ass a sharp slap, causing the blue-skinned being to flinch once more. A moan escaped the powerful beings’ lips.

Aladdin's mind raced, searching for a way to free the Genie and himself from Jafar's twisted control. But each time he tried to form a plan, his thoughts were drowned out by the sight of the Genie's chiseled body, a stunning display of masculine beauty, was impossible to ignore. His rippling muscles, glistening under the dim light of the palace chamber, were a testament to his raw power and strength. His broad chest heaved with each breath he took, showcasing his erect nipples that begged for attention. The thick trail of hair leading from his navel down to the bulge in his trousers was tantalizingly visible. And this godlike figure was completely under Jafar's control, letting Jafar touch him, enjoying his every touch – an erotic spectacle that sent shivers down Aladdin's spine.

"Look at you," Jafar sneered, tracing a finger down Genie's sculpted abs, "The mighty Genie reduced to my personal slave. Cooing for me…" His words dripped with venomous pleasure, echoing in the vast chamber and amplifying the charged atmosphere.

Aladdin watched as Genie squirmed under Jafar's touch, his azure eyes wide with humiliation. A wave of shame crashed over Aladdin as he felt himself harden at the sight. His heart pounded like a drum against his ribcage as he continued watching Jafar defile his once-powerful ally. The raw sexual energy radiating from them filled him, confusing him, and making his slowly conditioned mind more vulnerable to the sorcerers wants.

"Now slave… I bet you feel a need, a yearning…to dance for me," Jafar commanded, his voice dripping with wicked intent. With a devilish smirk, he snapped his fingers. Genie, as he had done before, filled the misty chamber with music.

Genie's demeanor shifted instantly from fearful submission to sensual performance. The sight of this wicked man commanding a deity like the genie was intoxicating - it was as if the seductive hiss of a serpent had tamed a mighty dragon. the raw power radiating from him was an aphrodisiac, making the divine genie's cock twitch in anticipation. And his body agreed with its true master. He needed to dance. He wanted to move his big, hot, eager body.

"Get to work, you filthy, celestial slut," Jafar taunted, his voice dripping with authority and lust. His eyes gleamed with an unholy light as he watched the genie obey. The big being and his big muscles got to work, pleasing his master.

With a sultry grace, the Genie began to sway his hips, the powerful muscles of his ass flexing in time with his movements. Every motion was sensual and deliberate.

The Genie, with his otherworldly charm, gifted Jafar a lewd, breathtaking performance. His brawny hips gyrated like an exotic dancer executing the seductive 'Camel' move, each rhythmic roll reverberating with raw carnal potency. It was as if he were a human embodiment of desire itself, his strapping ass muscles flexing and easing in harmony with his sensual movements. His body rolled and swayed before Jafar, offering him an unobstructed view of his sculpted pecs that glistened under the soft light.

Despite the humiliation burning in his eyes, the Genie's movements were fluid yet forceful, each one more provocative than the last. He launched into a series of shimmies, shaking his big blue ass with such fervor that it would put even the most skilled courtesans to shame. Aladdin found himself unable to tear his gaze away from the obscene spectacle - the Genie's hefty blue ass undulating hypnotically. The sight was enough to make anyone's mouth salivate and their cock throb with untamed lust. The Genie moved closer towards Jafar, bumping and grinding provocatively near the naked man’s face. His erotic dance was a perverse distortion of his once jovial nature, now tainted by Jafar's wicked influence.

Aladdin watched in horrified fascination as the Genie twerked for their captor - his massive blue ass bouncing enticingly like some obscene whore putting on a show for her master. A bitter taste filled Aladdin's mouth as he watched this grotesque display - this wasn't just any dance; it was a degradation of everything that made the Genie who he was.

"Quite the accomplished dancer, aren't we?" Jafar's voice dripped with lascivious intent, his hand sliding possessively over the round, firm swell of Genie's twerking ass. His fingers sunk into the pliant blue flesh like a hot knife through butter, tracing the tantalizing curve of his muscular globes. The pad of his thumb brushed against Genie's puckered entrance, eliciting a shudder from the magical being.

The humiliation was palpable; once a proud and mighty genie now reduced to this—a mere plaything for Jafar's twisted pleasure. But despite it all, there was an undeniable thrill in being so obedient to his master. The way he moved—each gyration and thrust— every muscle flexed and undulated in a hypnotic rhythm designed to entice and arouse one man.

"You're not just any old genie anymore; you're my genie...my blue whore," he sneered, relishing in the power he held over him. He continued his exploration unabated, each touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through Genie's body.

He paused momentarily, drinking in the sight before him—the way Genie’s ass jiggled with each sway; how sweat trickled down his back and pooled at the small dip of his waist; how his thick cock bobbed eagerly with each movement.

"All this," Jafar murmured huskily as he gripped Genie’s cock firmly, "is mine now." His words hung heavy in the air between them—a proclamation of ownership that left no room for doubt or defiance. The mere presence of Jafar seemed to send tremors through Genie's body. A primal groan escaped him, his hips undulating faster, swiveling to present his voluptuous rear in a tantalizing twerk for Jafar's ravenous gaze. The act of showcasing his generous ass was a raw display of submission, a carnal dance that spoke volumes of power dynamics. Jafar, seizing the plump flesh with possessive hands, asserted his dominance in a primal assertion of the alpha. The Genie, spinning his hips, knowing his ass was being used to get his master more and more excited let them both know how deeply he’d been conquered.

"So dance, my blue whore. Show me just how much you yearn to satisfy me."

Without hesitation, the Genie complied. His brawny form contorted and writhed in an increasingly lascivious spectacle that was reminiscent of the seductive belly dancers from Agrabah's bustling marketplace. His cock bobbed with each movement, hard and leaking some form of enchanted pre-cum onto the wet ground.

Jafar drank in every detail greedily, his eyes feasting on the sight before him. The Genie was a creature of immense power - capable of altering reality itself - and yet here he was, reduced to nothing more than a willing, dancing toy under Jafar's command. That massive blue ass compeltly his as it rubbed Jafar’s true scepter.

As he watched from his secluded corner, a shroud of silent agony enveloping him, Aladdin felt the bitter sting of despair coil within his chest. His own cock throbbed insistently against the sheer fabric of his harem pants - a humiliating testament to his inability to resist Jafar's hypnotic allure. The genie's ass was a sight to behold; large and round, it shook with tantalizing rhythm as if taunting him, giving Jafar the most debasing rubdown it could. Each gyration caused the silk trousers to cling tighter, outlining the firm mounds in an erotic dance that left nothing to imagination.

"Feast your eyes," Jafar sneered, his voice slick with venomous pleasure that dripped like honeyed poison into their ears. He molested the dancing genie, taking all of the gyrating flesh into his own, owning it. His tall figure cast an imposing shadow over them, like the Sultan's palace looming over Agrabah's streets. “on all I’ve fucking conquered!”

Then, like a stallion consumed by lustful desire, Jafar ground his hardened cock against Genie's ass. His hands--calloused from years of wielding a scepter--kneaded Genie's firm buttocks roughly in sync with their illicit dance. The motion was sinfully rhythmic; each grind eliciting another wanton moan from Genie and pushing Aladdin further into torment.

"Once upon a time, you were a beacon of hope for that worthless street rat," he spat contemptuously at Genie while flicking a dismissive gaze towards Aladdin who recoiled at the harsh words. Each syllable struck like a whip crack in the tense silence following their debauched display.

"Thanks to your magic, that filthy urchin nearly wed the princess. I almost had to grovel before that pitiful child!" Jafar's eyes gleamed wickedly as he watched the Genie writhe and moan under his touch. The once mighty spirit now reduced to a dancing whore, flexing his muscular pecs and shaking his colossal ass for the sinister man.

"And now?" Jafar’s laughter echoed through the room like a malicious symphony as he leaned in close to whisper into the Genie's ear. His hot breath causing an involuntary shiver to course through the captive spirit’s ethereal form. "Now you're nothing more than another fucktoy for me - for your master...the great and powerful Jafar."

At Jafar's proclamation, a spark ignited within the Genie. He began moving with renewed vigor; every gyration of his hips, every flex of his muscles was calculated to entice and arouse. His cock throbbed painfully against its confinement as he submitted himself completely to Jafar's will - gyrating and grinding like a shameless slut under the watchful gaze of his new master. His hands roamed his own body, teasing his nipples and stroking his sculpted muscles. All the while, his eyes remained locked on Jafar, seeking approval and validation from his dark master. He knew what would happen if he failed, so he let Jafar enjoy grabbing everything he wanted. Every fucking thing.

"Your devotion is intoxicating, Genie," Jafar purred, tracing a finger down the Genie's chest. "But I want more. Get on your knees and beg me to take you as my personal toy."

As the Genie dropped to his knees before Jafar, Aladdin's mind raced with despair and fury. He lost…

"Please, Master," the Genie whispered, his voice thick with need. "Take me, use me, fuck it all, I want to be your slave."

"Ah, music to my ears," Jafar replied, a sinister smile spreading across his face.

"Feast your eyes on this, Abubu," Jafar purred, his fingers languidly tracing the contours of the Genie's sweat-drenched biceps. The sinewy muscles flexed under his touch, a testament to the raw power that lay beneath the azure skin. "This magnificent beast serves me now, not because I've commanded it through a wish, but because I've seized everything he cherishes and warped it to satiate my own carnal desires."

Jafar's words dripped as his hand roamed further down, exploring every inch of the Genie's chiseled abs, each muscle rippling in response to his touch. His fingertips grazed over the genie's throbbing erection, wrapped in a thin layer of shimmering gold silk - an homage to their first encounter when Jafar had released him from the lamp.

"I have no need for petty genie-wishes for more dominance," Jafar continued, his voice laced with arrogance and lust. He knew all too well that Genie magic was capricious; anything he wished for could be revoked by another Genie master. But what he craved was far beyond simple wishes; it was about control and submission.

"I know how to make people ache to serve me," Jafar growled into the Genie’s earlobe before nipping at it gently with his teeth. His other hand snaked around to grab a handful of firm ass cheek, giving it a possessive squeeze. "Isn't that right you big fucking slut?"

With a snap of his fingers echoing through their private chamber like a whip crack in the silence, Jafar commanded obedience from his captive. And just like that, turning on some hidden switch inside him, He felt fear, and needed to fall low.

"Please, Master," the Genie moaned softly, his voice trembling with desperation. "Don't hurt Al. I'll do anything for you. Just... just spare him."

"Ah, such exquisite submission," Jafar purred, his eyes flashing with cruel delight as he trailed a finger down the Genie's blue cheek. His touch left a trail of heated desire in its wake, igniting an uncomfortable warmth in the Genie's lower belly. "But let's not forget, my beautiful blue whore: your obedience to me is the only lifeline that scrappy street rat has.”

The words were like a whip against Aladdin’s heart, each syllable lashing him with guilt and regret. He watched from the shadows as the Genie bowed his head in silent acquiescence, his once vibrant eyes now dull with resignation. The sight was gut-wrenching; seeing his once lively friend reduced to a submissive plaything for Jafar's twisted pleasure. As much as it hurt to admit it, Aladdin knew that Jafar had played his cards masterfully. The cunning sorcerer had managed to bind the all-powerful Genie into servitude, transforming him into a willing servant eager to offer up his magic at every beck and call.

The genie had been forced into this humiliating position for one reason alone - to keep Aladdin alive. Unable to kill Jafar or directly save Aladdin’s life due to the limitations of his own magic, he'd chosen instead to warp into Jafar’s obedient slut. Every groveling bow and whispered word of compliance was a desperate bid for Aladdin’s safety. And each time he saw it – each time he witnessed Genie debasing himself before Jafar – Aladdin was reminded of his own powerlessness and guilt.

As Jafar spoke, the steam around them began to dissipate, revealing the full extent of the sorcerer's imposing arousal. His massive cock stood proudly erect, a dark symbol of his absolute power over both Aladdin and the Genie. Even in his despair, Aladdin couldn't help but be awed by its size and the intensity of Jafar's lust.

"Get lower, Genie," Jafar ordered, his voice dripping with command. "Beg me to use you, to take your body and your magic for my own pleasure."

With a defeated sob, the Genie sank to the floor, his broad shoulders shaking as he prostrated himself before his cruel master. "Please, Master Jafar," he whimpered. "Use me as you wish, take my body and my magic…make me serve your desires, over and over again. I am your slave."

"Very well," Jafar replied, a victorious smirk playing across his lips. "But remember: your obedience is all that stands between Aladdin and certain death. Serve me well, Genie... or he will pay the price."

As Aladdin watched in horror, Jafar took hold of the Genie's chin, forcing their gazes to meet. The unspoken threat hung heavy in the air, a twisted bond forged between them by the sorcerer's perverse desire for power and control. Jafar stood towering over Genie, his tall, sinewy frame casting an imposing shadow on the trembling blue figure kneeling before him.

"Soon I will have everything. Princess Jasmine herself will become my wife and Sultana, vowing to serve me for the rest of her life. And with this massive cock," he gestured toward his pulsating erection, "she'll worship it in ways you never could have imagined."

The sight of Jafar's massive manhood directly in Genie’s face was both intimidating and arousing. His heart pounded in his chest as he felt a desperate need to serve, to submit.

He had always been there for Aladdin as a friend, but this... this was different. This was about serving Jafar, worshipping him like the dominant figure he was. "Master," Genie whimpered, his voice trembling with fear and lust. "You're so...so big... so powerful." He could hardly believe the words coming out of his mouth - they were more like a slave's than a genie's.

"Your cock..." he continued breathlessly, unable to tear his eyes away from the throbbing organ that demanded his attention. "...it’s magnificent." He swallowed hard at the sight of it - it was like nothing he'd ever seen before. It wasn't just big or thick; it was godly.

"But... I can make it better," Genie offered hesitantly, looking up at Jafar through half-lidded eyes filled with desire and desperation. "I can make it magical..." His voice trailed off into a whisper as he imagined what such an enhancement could do - how much more power it would give Jafar.

"Oh fuck," Genie moaned involuntarily as arousal coursed through him at the thought.

"I can amplify your allure," he continued fervently, "make you even more irresistible to her... transform you into a God among men." His gaze shifted back upwards to meet Jafar's predatory smile. It was clear that the Genie was trapped - unable to stop himself from spiraling further down this path of submission and servitude, “Let me gift you with this power…let me…oh fuck…let me give it all to my master…”

With a dark, seductive smirk playing on his lips, Jafar reveled in the Genie's palpable desperation. "Ah, such is the power of my allure," he drawled, his voice smooth as silk yet laced with an intoxicating arrogance that was impossible to ignore. "Even without a wish being uttered, you are drawn to serve me. To taste me." His eyes sparkled with wicked delight as he continued to gloat over his raw sexual prowess that had effortlessly ensnared the genie.

"Very well then," Jafar purred, leaning back on his throne like a king surveying his kingdom. His eyes were half-lidded with desire as he gestured lazily towards the impressive bulge straining against his silk pants. "Show me just how eager you are to please your master."

The Genie hesitated for only a heartbeat before he leaned forward, his ethereal blue lips parting in anticipation. The sight of Jafar's massive cock springing free made him swallow hard, but there was no turning back now.

"Open wide and take it all in," Jafar commanded in a low growl, watching with perverse satisfaction as the Genie obeyed without question. He groaned in pleasure as those blue lips closed around him, taking him deep into the warmth of Genie's mouth.

The sight was sinfully erotic - the mighty genie brought to his knees by lust and desire, worshipping at the altar of Jafar's cock like a devoted whore. As the Genie submitted completely to his master, Jafar reveled in the sensation of the warm, wet mouth enveloping his cock. He moaned lasciviously, his hands gripping the Genie's thick black hair, guiding the powerful creature's movements as he pleasured him.

Aladdin watched in horror and disbelief, unable to tear his gaze away from the perverse scene unfolding before him. His heart ached with loss and betrayal, but there was also a twisted fascination growing within him as he witnessed the once-proud Genie now reduced to a submissive, obedient slave.

"Ah, yes... That's it, my blue slut," Jafar panted, his eyes locked with Aladdin's as he sought to break the young man's spirit even further. "Oh, fuck, Abubu. Your precious Genie now serves me, and there's nothing you can do to change that."

As Jafar's pleasure intensified, so too did the power coursing through him. The air around him crackled with energy, the very atmosphere within the bath chambers shifting to accommodate the sorcerer's growing dominance.

"Watch this, Abubu," Jafar growled, his voice heavy with lust and supremacy. "Watch me conquer him, then you, then everything you hold dear."

Jafar's dark eyes rolled back in sheer bliss as the Genie's skilled lips enveloped him, his hot tongue swirling around the swollen head of Jafar's pulsating manhood. "Oh, yes...Genie!" Jafar roared out, his voice echoing with carnal delight and the unmistakable tone of dominance.

His gaze locked onto Aladdin, who was forced to bear witness to his master's ruthless display of control over his compliant slave. The sight of Jafar's defined body, glistening with beads of sweat under the flickering light, sent a shudder rippling down Aladdin's spine – an unsettling mix of terror and an unspoken darker desire. Jafar reveled in his dominance, his hand tangled in Genie’s hair, guiding him further down onto his throbbing cock. The genie moaned around him, sending vibrations through Jafar that made him groan in pleasure.

Despite the demeaning position he found himself in, Genie couldn’t help but enjoy the taste and feel of Jafar’s hardness filling his mouth. He loved being used like this by Jafar; there was something about submitting to this man that drove him wild with desire - a twisted blend of fear and lust that made every nerve ending in his enchanted body sing out for more.

"Ah… my beautiful blue slave," Jafar moaned, his voice dripping with wicked delight. "Your devotion to your new master is truly… divine."

Aladdin clenched his fists, torn between revulsion and an undeniable fascination as he watched the once-powerful Genie brought low by Jafar's cruel control. He could see every ripple and flex of the Genie's muscular body, the bulging biceps straining under the weight of his submission, the thick blue thighs trembling with the effort of holding himself steady as he serviced Jafar's enormous cock.

"Can you feel it, Prince Abubu?" Jafar taunted, smirking at Aladdin's tortured expression. "Can you feel the raw power surging through me, all thanks to your precious friend? I am truly unstoppable now, and no one can save you or your beloved Jasmine from my grasp."

The sinister sorcerer's words echoed hauntingly in Aladdin's mind, a cruel reminder of how hopelessly trapped they all were. As he helplessly watched Jafar revel in his newfound dominance, Aladdin couldn't quell the growing sense of despair that threatened to engulf him completely.

"Ah, yes…" Jafar cooed, his voice taking on an even more sinister edge. "Just like that, my loyal blue slut. Worship me… worship your divine master and his magnificent cock."

With a savage, guttural roar that vibrated the ornate ceramic tiles of the steam-filled bath chambers, Jafar's climax ripped through him like a desert sandstorm. His monstrous cock throbbed violently in Genie's eager mouth, each pulse shooting hot, potent streams of his virile essence down the blue-skinned slave's throat. The taste was intoxicating - a heady mix of power and lust that made Genie gag on its intensity.

Jafar reveled in the sensation, his dark eyes glinting with wicked pleasure as he watched the genie struggle to accommodate him fully. He savored every twitch of Genie's lips around his shaft, every desperate swallow as Genie fought to take all he had to give.

And then, with one last powerful spasm that left him breathless and shuddering from its force, Jafar abruptly shoved Genie aside. The sudden movement sent Genie sprawling onto the heated marble floor of the bath chamber. His body was slick with sweat and smeared with remnants of Jafar's release. There was a cruel satisfaction in his eyes as he saw Genie laid out before him – used and discarded like some cheap whore.

"By the sands," Aladdin breathed, his eyes wide with shock and disgust as he gazed upon Jafar's now even bigger, thicker, and glowing cock. Through his submission, Genie gave Jafar some new, ultimate, sexual power. He gave it willingly, making Jafar standing there, admiring his improved cock, look even more powerful. He couldn't help but lick his lips involuntarily, keenly aware that there was no way Jasmine would be able to resist her new husband's mesmerizing member.

Jafar took a moment to regain his composure, his chest heaving as he reveled in the sensations coursing through his body. Then, with a sinister grin, he reached down and gripped Genie by the chin, forcing his gaze upwards.

Genie did his best to suppress the shame and humiliation that welled up inside him, but the raw truth of Jafar's words weighed heavily on his broad shoulders. He had become an instrument of evil, all in service to the man who threatened everything he held dear. Not even he could resist the masculine cock he gave him for the evening to come.

Jafar turned to the street rat. His cock on display. He was ready for his kingdom. For his princess. For the reign of the unconquerable Sultan Jafar to begin.

"Behold, street rat," he sneered, tapping his engorged cock against Genie's flushed face. "Behold…the most powerful being on earth…”

Jafar's wicked laughter filled the bath chambers as he snapped his fingers, sending Aladdin into a spiral of fear and despair. The Genie transformed into a swirling vortex of blue and red smoke, enveloping Jafar's naked form like a sinister shroud. From within the haze, a thin red gown materialized, draping itself over the vile sorcerer, a symbol of his stolen power and authority. Jasmine would soon drape him in the white cloak of the Sultan, submitting to him before the entire kingdom.

Aladdin's teeth ground together, the sound echoing in his ears like sandpaper over rough wood. His heart hammered against his ribs, a wild drum echoing his mounting dread. The thought of Jasmine, sweet and desirable Jasmine, being forced to surrender her body to Jafar was unbearable. Her tender flesh would be claimed by that monstrous, pulsating cock - an image that seared itself into Aladdin's mind, burning hot and unshakeable. He would make her his addicted slave. That cock would take anything it wanted, just as Jafar had foretold.

And what power did he hold? He was nothing more than a slave now, stripped of agency and bound by invisible chains of obedience. His desires were irrelevant; his pleas would fall on deaf ears.

A gasp slipped past Aladdin's lips as confusion swirled within him like a desert storm. A primal urge surged through him to confront the powerful sorcerer. To tackle him to the ground before he could bind himself to the woman Aladdin cherished so deeply. To snatch up that fucking parrot Iago - with his shrill voice and mocking laughter - seize Jafar's lamp and use his final wish to undo this nightmare.

But as he watched Jafar saunter away with an air of smug triumph, Aladdin knew the next time their paths crossed, Jafar would be an all-powerful sorcerer - untouchable and invincible.

All Aladdin could do was replay the hypnotic words Jafar had implanted deep within his subconscious. Words that twisted his thoughts and made the street rat ache for Jafar's touch - an insidious command that left him yearning for something so vile it made bile rise in his throat.

So, there he remained, frozen in place while trying desperately to banish the image of Sultan Jafar’s massive cock from his mind – a sight as hauntingly grotesque as it was mesmerizingly obscene.

Chapter Text

[DISCLAIMER: This work is entirely fictional and features mature themes including non-consensual situations. The author does not condone such behavior in real life. The following content is intended for adult audiences only and explores fantasy scenarios that should remain fantasy.]

The Sultan's bedchambers, bathed in the golden glow of a hundred oil lamps, pulse with anticipation. The air is thick with the mingling scents of jasmine incense, sandalwood, and the unmistakable musk of desire. Silken draperies in deep crimson and royal purple cascade from the high ceiling, creating intimate spaces within the vast chamber where shadows dance in time with the flickering flames. Tonight, these sacred walls will witness the consummation of a union built not on love, but on the foundations of power, manipulation, and dark magic.

The chamber is filled with beautiful bodies, arranged like living ornaments around the massive, gold-draped bed. Palace servants, their skin gleaming with scented oils, stand with lowered eyes, awaiting commands. Guards with glazed expressions line the walls, their minds ensnared by Jafar's hypnotic control. In a corner sits the former Sultan, diminished and vacant-eyed, watching as his kingdom and daughter are claimed by the man who was once his advisor.

Three women stand apart from the rest, their bodies adorned with jewels and transparent silks that catch the lamplight with every subtle movement. These are the legendary belly dancers of Agrabah—Naji, Taji, and Maji—renowned not just for their beauty but for their voices that can weave enchantments through their words.

"Look at our new Sultana," whispers Naji, her fuchsia silks shimmering as she gestures toward the bed. "How the mighty have fallen."

There, in the center of the massive bed, kneels Princess Jasmine. Her raven hair cascades down her back like a waterfall of midnight, partially veiling her naked form. What little she wears is a mockery of modesty—thin, translucent red silk that clings to the curves of her breasts and hips, revealing more than it conceals. Gold chains encircle her wrists and ankles, connected by delicate links to a collar around her slender neck. The jewels embedded in her bindings catch the light with every trembling breath she takes.

"I've never seen such fire tamed," Taji says, her pink lips curving into a smile as she sways to an unheard rhythm. "She who once refused all suitors, now chained and waiting for her master's pleasure."

The doors to the chamber swing open, and a collective gasp ripples through the gathered crowd. Jafar enters, his tall, sinewy frame draped in a sultan's robe that falls open to reveal his naked body beneath. His transformation is evident to all who gaze upon him—his muscles more defined, his skin gleaming with an otherworldly luster, and between his legs, his manhood stands proud and impossibly large, pulsing with a subtle glow that speaks of the Genie's magic.

"Behold," he announces, his voice echoing with authority, "your Sultan claims what is rightfully his."

Jasmine's eyes widen at the sight of him, a mixture of fear and unwilling desire flashing across her face. The enchantment that grips her mind battles with her true self, creating a delicious conflict that makes her body tremble and her nipples harden beneath the thin silk.

"Oh my," purrs Maji, her lavender veil slipping from her shoulders as she leans forward. "Our new Sultan is... magnificently endowed. The stories of his enchanted cock were not exaggerated."

Jafar approaches the bed with predatory grace, his dark eyes never leaving Jasmine's face. He reaches out, gripping her chin between his thumb and forefinger.

"My beautiful wife," he says, his voice dripping with malice and lust. "How long I have waited for this moment. To have you beneath me, to feel your body yield to mine."

He tears away the flimsy red silk covering her breasts, exposing them to the hungry eyes of the gathered spectators. Jasmine gasps, her back arching involuntarily as the cool air caresses her sensitive skin.

"Look at how she responds to his touch," Naji narrates, her voice carrying to every corner of the room. "Her body betrays her, even as her mind resists."

Jafar's hands roam possessively over Jasmine's body, squeezing her breasts roughly, pinching her nipples until she cries out. His touch is not gentle or loving, but demanding and cruel—the touch of a conqueror marking his territory.

"The proud princess, reduced to a whimpering slave," Taji continues the narration, her voice thick with arousal. "Her royal pussy already wet for the cock that will claim it."

Indeed, as Jafar tears away the last of Jasmine's coverings, the evidence of her unwilling arousal is visible to all. Her thighs glisten with her juices, her body responding to the dark magic that has infiltrated her mind.

"Spread your legs for your Sultan," Jafar commands, and Jasmine obeys, her chains jingling as she opens herself to him.

The room grows silent as Jafar positions himself between her thighs, the head of his massive, glowing cock pressing against her entrance. With one brutal thrust, he enters her, causing Jasmine to scream—a sound of both pain and forbidden pleasure.

"He takes her like a beast claims its mate," Maji narrates, her voice husky. "Each thrust a declaration of his dominance, each moan from her lips a surrender."

In an adjoining chamber, separated only by a thin wall, Aladdin sits bound to a chair, forced to listen to the sounds of Jasmine's defilement. Each moan, each slap of flesh against flesh, is a dagger to his heart. Tears stream down his face as he hears the woman he loves being taken by his enemy.

"Oh, Sultan Jafar!" Jasmine's voice carries through the wall, thick with an enchanted passion. "Your cock fills me so completely! I've never felt anything like it!"

Aladdin squeezes his eyes shut, but he cannot block out the sounds or the images they conjure in his mind—Jasmine, his beautiful Jasmine, writhing beneath Jafar, her body accepting what her true self would abhor.

Back in the bedchamber, Jafar has Jasmine on all fours now, her chains rattling as he pounds into her from behind. His hands grip her hips with bruising force, pulling her back onto his cock with each powerful thrust.

"Look at how she takes him," Naji says, circling the bed to get a better view. "The most powerful cock in all of Agrabah, and she's learning to worship it as she should."

The audience watches in rapt attention as their new Sultan claims his bride. Some touch themselves discreetly, aroused by the display of raw power and submission. Others whisper amongst themselves, speaking of how Jafar's virility is surely a sign of his divine right to rule.

"This is but a taste of what awaits Agrabah under Sultan Jafar's rule," Taji announces, her eyes gleaming. "A new era of power and pleasure, where all will bow before his might as surely as our Sultana bows before his cock."

Jafar's pace increases, his thrusts becoming more violent as he nears his climax. Jasmine's moans have transformed into screams of ecstasy, her body convulsing around him as she experiences pleasure more intense than she has ever known.

"I am your master," Jafar growls into her ear, loud enough for all to hear. "Say it, princess. Tell them all who owns you now."

"You are my master!" Jasmine cries out, her voice breaking. "Sultan Jafar is my master, my husband, my lord! I am his to command, to use, to fuck!"

With a triumphant roar, Jafar reaches his climax, flooding Jasmine's womb with his seed. The magical properties of his enhanced manhood cause Jasmine to orgasm simultaneously, her body shuddering violently as pleasure overwhelms her.

"And thus is the marriage consummated," Maji concludes, her voice carrying throughout the chamber. "The princess is now truly the Sultan's wife, body and soul."

For one long, reverent moment the sultan’s bedchamber was frozen in tableau: the assembled bodies locked in stunned parade, the air itself heavy with trembling awe. Jafar, still entombed to the hilt in Jasmine’s trembling frame, threw back his head and let loose a slow, predatory exhale—a sound that rippled through the lamplit chamber like thunder chasing lightning. But the true shock came when, after a climax that had left Jasmine liquefied and sobbing into the tangled sheets, Jafar did not collapse or even wilt. He rose.

He rose with unnatural, inevitable grandeur, drawing himself upright until every pair of eyes in the room—servant, guard, and jewel-draped courtesan alike—was helplessly fastened on the rigid, shining column of his cock. It stood proud and flushed an angry purple-red, drooling fresh ropes of seed even as it twitched and seemed almost to throb with a consciousness of its own. The flesh of it was inhumanly thick, veined like the branch of some ancient tree, and most alarming of all: it remained utterly erect. Pulsing with renewed hunger. Greedy. Insatiable.

An audible gasp shuddered through the onlookers.

Jasmine, collapsed with her face pressed into the mattress and her body milked to exhaustion, barely registered her chains as Jafar casually yanked her upright by the hair. Her eyes were glassy, her lips slick with spit and broken oaths, but even in her battered state she looked down and shuddered at the pillar goring between her legs, still spreading her wide and leaking his pleasure into her gaping cunt. Every trained pleasure slave and well-bred concubine in attendance stared, mesmerized and awestruck by the monstrous beauty of the thing—none of them had ever even dreamed such a cock could exist, and certainly not one that demanded so much after already claiming its prize.

Jafar turned, savoring the attention with a slow, imperial twist of his hips. His cock, still coiled inside Jasmine’s splayed pussy, gave an ostentatious throb.

“Behold,” he intoned, voice richer and darker than ever, “the loins of your Sultan. Did you expect a mere man? Did you think this was the end?” He sneered down at the exhausted princess, one hand fisted in her hair, the other lazily rubbing the length of his shaft as he pulled out to show the cum-slicked meat to the crowd in all its triumphant glory. Jasmine whimpered at the loss of friction and the obscene display, but found herself unable to look away. “I am no simple mortal. You have tasted but the smallest drop of my power.”

The three legendary belly-dancers—Naji, Taji, and Maji—were the first to break ranks. As if compelled by the same dark gravity, they crawled forward on hands and knees, their jeweled torsos swaying hypnotically and their eyes glazed over with hungry submission. Naji reached Jafar first, pressing her face worshipfully to his thigh. Taji and Maji followed suit, moaning as if in the throes of their own invisible orgasmic storm, their silks already soaked between their legs by the fragrance of his manhood. They sniffed and licked at his thighs, arms, and even Jasmine’s sex-splattered stomach, their tongues lapping up evidence of his virility as if it were ambrosia.

The other women in attendance, princesses and concubines and pampered wives of Agrabah’s finest, stood and snatched away their veils and intricate silks, baring their breasts and cunts to the conquering Sultan like a field of ripe fruit. They preened and pawed at themselves, desperate to be seen, moaning and fingering one another in the hope of catching his gaze. At the edges of the chamber, the guards—entranced and helpless—started to rut with the nearest servant girls, unable to keep their composure in the sweltering collective heat.

Suddenly, the circle broke as several of Agrabah’s most powerful noblemen, their faces red with shame and envy, began hurling treasures at the bed: fistfuls of gold coins, rings, amulets, and entire strings of pearls soared through the air and landed in a sparkling heap at Jafar’s feet. “Tribute!” they cried, their voices raw and trembling. “Tribute to our Sultan, the only man worthy of our daughters and our wives!”

Jafar smirked, savoring the chaos unfolding. He seized Jasmine’s hips and, with casual violence, flipped her onto her back so that her ravaged cunt was angled up for all to see, her thighs studded with bite marks and bruises. Her chains rattled, catching in the golden light, and in her glazed, ruined expression flickered the faintest spark of recognition—for herself, for her fate, for the appetite of the man above her.

He plunged his cock back into her in one smooth, brutal motion. There was no resistance. Jasmine’s entire body arched off the bed, suspended by the force of his thrust. Her scream was ragged, half torn between agony and a moan so thick with desire that it made even the most jaded onlookers wet themselves in sympathy.

Jafar began to fuck her anew, the obscene percussion of his hips against her thighs punctuated by the delighted cries of the belly-dancers clinging to his legs. He leaned forward, one hand pinning Jasmine’s wrists above her head, the other clutching a fistful of her trembling breast. “You think you have pleased me?” he growled, loud enough to echo through the palace halls. Each word was a stone dropped in a pool of longing. “You will learn to take me, Princess. Only when you can milk a true seed from my lamp will I be satisfied. Do you understand?”

Jasmine blinked, tears and sweat streaking her face, but beneath it all she smiled a wicked, dope-struck smile. “Yes, husband. More, please. More. Use me, Oh might Jafar!” she whispered, her body already spasming around his cock as he resumed his brutal rhythm.

The orgiastic energy in the room reached new heights. The three dancers, now mindless with lust, began to grind and hump against one another where they sprawled beneath the bed, their hands never leaving Jafar’s calves and balls. The other women flocked closer, caressing each other and murmuring desperate prayers for Jafar’s gaze. Several young men, servants and slaves, abandoned all restraint and joined the melee, kissing and licking at the bodies of whichever woman they could reach, following the thrusts and movements of their new, eternal king.

Jafar, master of all he surveyed, began to chant in a voice layered with magic and command. The air sizzled, and the lamps burned brighter, casting long, writhing shadows on the walls. Jasmine’s chains began to vibrate, and then, as if by some infernal logic, her jeweled collar fused to her neck in a seamless band of gold. The onlookers erupted in applause: it was a wedding collar, the mark of a true Sultana, unbreakable and eternal.

Again and again, Jafar slammed home, his balls slapping Jasmine’s ass as he ground her clit mercilessly with his thumb. She writhed under the assault, her voice rising in a chorus with the moans of the dancers and the ululations of the crowd. The palace itself seemed to hum in expectation, as if the stones yearned for the moment of his next climax.

He didn’t disappoint. At the peak of the ritual, when Jasmine was babbling incoherently in a mix of prayer and filth, Jafar gave one final, monstrous thrust and erupted inside her again with such force that pearly fluid spurted back out to drench her thighs and the sheets below. The belly-dancers squealed and licked at the frothing mess with wild abandon, competing to see who could collect the most of his enchanted seed.

Jafar stood over Jasmine’s ruined body, cock still defiant, and addressed the crowd.

“This is but a taste of my reign,” he announced, voice ringing with godlike arrogance. “My hunger is endless, and tonight, so too shall be our celebration.” He gestured to the noblemen, who in their abject devotion prostrated themselves before him and begged permission to join the festivities. “Let every man and woman in Agrabah know their Sultan’s power. Let them crave it. Let them serve it.”

Jasmine, barely conscious, rolled her head to the side and fixed her eyes on the sea of debauched faces watching her be fucked into submission. She gasped, “More... please, more... I want to feel you forever, my man...”

The night was young. And so was Jafar’s appetite.

Jafar’s gaze sweeps across the room, drinking in the sight of the beautiful bodies trembling in anticipation of his next command, until his eyes lock onto a particular figure huddled in the corner—the former Sultan of Agrabah, his mind enshrouded in the fog of Jafar's hypnotic control, watching with vacant eyes as his kingdom and daughter are desecrated before him.

"Ah, my predecessor," Jafar purrs, his voice silken with malice. He strokes his still-erect cock, the magical glow pulsating beneath the skin like a heartbeat. "How thoughtful of you to join us for this most... intimate celebration."

The gathered crowd parts as Jafar strides across the chamber, his naked form commanding attention and respect with every step. Behind him, Jasmine lies spread-eagled on the bed, her body marked with the evidence of her husband's passion, her eyes glazed with enchanted pleasure.

"You know," Jafar says, reaching the former Sultan and tilting the old man's face up with one long finger, "I've been thinking about what gift I could bestow upon my loyal companion, Iago. After all, he has been so instrumental in my rise to power…fluffing up my ego as I waited for the hypnotism to sink in."

As if summoned by his master's words, the red parrot flutters down from his perch near the ceiling, landing on Jafar's shoulder. Iago's beady eyes gleam with malicious intelligence as he regards the diminished figure of the former ruler.

"Yeah, boss," Iago cackles, his harsh voice echoing in the chamber. "What's a poor parrot gotta do to get a little action around here? I've been watching you plow the princess, and let me tell ya, it's got me all hot and bothered!"

Cruel laughter ripples through the crowd as Jafar's lips curl into a sinister smile. "My dear Sultan—forgive me, former Sultan—do you recall how dismissive you were of my counsel over the years? How you waved away my suggestions with that chubby hand of yours? Well, now that same hand will serve a new purpose."

With a snap of his fingers, Jafar commands the old man to his knees. The former Sultan complies instantly, his once-proud posture now hunched in submission, his elaborate turban askew on his head. His rich robes hang loosely on his frame, as if his very body has shrunk in proportion to his diminished status.

"Let me tell you something, fatty," Iago says, flying down to perch on the former Sultan's shoulder, his talons digging into the fine fabric. "Your precious kingdom has a new master now, one who knows how to use power. Not like you, wasting your days playing with your little toys while Jafar did all the real work!"

The parrot struts along the old man's arm, his feathers ruffling with excitement. "You know what Jafar did to earn this?" Iago continues, gesturing to the opulent chamber with his wing. "He fucked you. Oh yeah, not literally—though that came soon enough—but figuratively. Every time you signed a decree he wrote, every time you believed his lies, every time you let him whisper in your ear... he was fucking you, old man. And you loved it!"

Jafar chuckles, his hand idly stroking his throbbing cock as he watches the humiliation unfold. "Indeed, Iago. I took him long before I took his daughter. His mind was so weak, so easily bent to my will. A true Sultan would have seen through my deceptions, would have had the strength to resist my influence. But he... he practically invited me to take his throne."

From his secluded position in the adjoining chamber, Aladdin strains against his bonds, his heart racing with horror and rage. Through a small crack in the wall, he can see Jafar standing triumphant, the former Sultan kneeling before him like a broken toy. The sight sickens him, yet he cannot look away. This is the man who welcomed him as Prince Ali, who nearly gave him his daughter's hand in marriage. Now reduced to nothing more than a plaything for a parrot's amusement.

"Please," Aladdin whispers, his voice cracking with desperation. "This isn't right. He's still the Sultan. Jafar is nothing but a usurper, a—"

His words die in his throat as he sees Iago begin to molest the former Sultan, the parrot's small form somehow dominating the once-powerful ruler. The old man makes no move to resist as Iago commands him to remove his robes, exposing his soft, pale body to the jeering crowd.

"That's it, show everyone what a pathetic excuse for a Sultan you really are," Iago taunts, flying circles around the naked old man. "No wonder Jafar took your kingdom so easily. Look at you—soft in body, soft in mind. Not like our new Sultan with his rock-hard cock and iron will!"

"Now, my former Sultan," Jafar says, his voice carrying to every corner of the chamber, "you will show proper respect to your betters. Iago has many grievances to air—all those times you shooed him away, all those times you called him a 'pretty bird.' You will make amends for each slight."

Iago cackles with glee, flying down to land between the old man's legs. "Yeah, and I know just how you can start making it up to me, you royal tub of lard!"

The crowd watches in a mixture of horror and fascination as Iago begins to humiliate the former Sultan in ways that would have been unthinkable mere days ago. The old man responds to each degrading command with vacant obedience, his will completely subsumed by Jafar's sorcery.

"This is the fate of those who oppose me," Jafar announces to the room, his voice resonating with power. "The former ruler of Agrabah, now no better than a slave to a bird. Remember this, all of you, when you consider where your loyalties should lie."

The palace servants and guards bow their heads in acknowledgment, fear and awe mingling in their expressions. Some even begin to whisper amongst themselves, noting how much more commanding Jafar is than his predecessor ever was.

"Sultan Jafar's cock is truly the mark of a divine ruler," one courtier murmurs to another, glancing at the still-erect, glowing member that Jafar proudly displays. "No mere mortal could possess such... magnitude."

"And his stamina," replies another, watching as Jafar strides back toward the bed where Jasmine awaits. "He's taken the princess multiple times and still stands ready for more. Our kingdom will flourish under such virility."

Iago, delighting in his new power, forces the former Sultan to kiss his feathered form, crooning, "That's right, kiss 'em good. Sultan Jafar lets me do whatever I want now. And what I want is to see you grovel, just like you made Jafar grovel for years!"

The message is clear to all who witness this display: Jafar is the rightful Sultan, not by birth or by law, but by sheer force of will and power. He has taken what he wanted, and none in Agrabah can stand against him now.

Jasmine's body arches beneath Jafar's relentless assault, her skin glistening with sweat in the amber glow of the oil lamps. Each thrust sends shockwaves of unwanted pleasure rippling through her, sensations so intense they threaten to shatter her very sense of self. Behind her glazed eyes, a war rages—her true consciousness fighting desperately against the hypnotic fog that Jafar has woven through her mind since barging into her chambers. As his enchanted cock fills her again and again, she feels her memories beginning to shift and warp, like reflections in a pool disturbed by falling stones. Who she was and who she is becoming blur together in a haze of pleasure and submission.

"Tell me how much you love your husband's cock," Jafar demands, his voice penetrating her mind as deeply as his shaft penetrates her body. His hand tangles in her hair, yanking her head back to expose the vulnerable line of her throat.

"I love it, my Sultan," she gasps, the words tumbling from her lips without her conscious permission. "I love your magnificent cock!"

As the words leave her mouth, a memory surfaces—her first clear recollection of Jafar, years ago when she was barely more than a child. He had been newly appointed as her father's vizier, his thin frame draped in black robes, his eyes calculating as they swept over her developing body. She had felt immediate revulsion, shrinking away from his gaze and refusing to address him directly.

"What a rude little princess," he had said, his voice oily with false concern. "Your father should teach you better manners."

"I don't have to be polite to snakes," she had retorted, young and fearless.

But now, as Jafar's magical influence seeps deeper into her consciousness, the memory shifts. In this new version, she feels not disgust but a forbidden thrill at his attention. Her younger self's heart races not with anger but with secret desire as his eyes linger on her budding breasts. Her defiance transforms into a coy game, a child's attempt at flirtation with a man too sophisticated to indulge her.

"You always wanted me," Jafar whispers now, as if reading her thoughts. He rolls her onto her back, spreading her legs wider, exposing her completely to the watching crowd. "Even then, your body recognized its true master."

"Yes," she moans, as another memory surfaces through the haze, “yes, I see that now! My master!“

She sees herself at sixteen, standing in the palace garden, confronting Jafar about a decree he had drafted—one that would have restricted the freedoms of women in Agrabah. Her voice had been strong, her arguments passionate as she tore the document from his hands and ripped it to shreds before his eyes.

"You forget yourself, Princess," he had hissed, his fingers closing around her wrist with bruising force. "One day, you will learn your place."

"I will never bow to men like you," she had spat back, wrenching her arm free and storming away.

But now, under the influence of Jafar's enchantment, the memory reweaves itself. She remembers instead how his touch had sent electricity coursing through her veins, how the hard press of his body against hers had made her knees weak with desire. In this twisted version, she had torn the decree not out of righteous anger but out of frustration at her own inability to express her true feelings for him. Her defiance becomes a plea for his dominance, her exit a retreat from emotions too powerful to acknowledge.

"Your cunt is so wet for me," Jafar grunts, driving deeper into her. His sweat drips onto her breasts, mingling with her own. The scent of their coupling—musk, sweat, and the distinctive aroma of sex—fills her nostrils, embedding itself in her memory along with this new narrative. "Your body has always known the truth, even when your mind resisted."

Jasmine feels his words sink into her like hooks, pulling her further under his control. The sensation is both terrifying and exquisite—like drowning in honey, sweet suffocation that she increasingly lacks the will to fight. Her mind is like the desert dunes outside Agrabah's walls, constantly being reshaped by the winds of Jafar's will. What was once solid ground becomes shifting sand beneath her thoughts, until she can no longer trust her own recollections.

Another memory rises—the strongest one, the one her true self clings to most desperately. It was the day Jafar had asked her father for her hand in marriage. She had been revolted, horrified at the very thought of being wed to the sinister vizier. Her rejection had been absolute and public, humiliating him before the entire court.

"I would rather die than be your wife," she had declared, her voice carrying to every corner of the throne room. "I would rather marry the lowest street rat in Agrabah than spend one night in your bed!"

That memory—that perfect, crystalline moment of defiance—begins to cloud and darken as Jafar's magic works deeper into her psyche. The rejection morphs into regret, her disgust into denied desire. In this new version, she had been fighting not against Jafar but against her own overwhelming attraction to him. She had been afraid—afraid of the intensity of her feelings, afraid of surrendering to the powerful lust he inspired in her. Her cruel words had been a shield, a desperate attempt to protect herself from the truth: that she had always wanted to submit to him, to be claimed by him, to feel his dominance over her.

"You see it now, don't you?" Jafar says, his voice hypnotic as he slows his thrusts, grinding against a spot deep inside her that makes her vision blur with pleasure. "You were always meant to be mine. Every rejection was just foreplay, every insult a love poem in disguise."

"Yes," Jasmine gasps, as the last of her resistance crumbles. "I always wanted you, my Sultan. I was just... afraid of how much I needed you."

The admission, forced though it is, sends a shockwave of pleasure through her body. Her back arches off the bed as an orgasm tears through her, more intense than any she has ever experienced. Her inner walls clench around Jafar's massive cock, milking it, worshipping it as surely as her mind now worships him.

In the haze of her climax, Jasmine's transformed memories crystallize into a new truth. She was always destined to be Jafar's wife, his property, his vessel. The princess who fought for her independence, who dreamed of choosing her own fate, was just a frightened girl running from her true destiny. Now, as Sultan Jafar's wife, she has finally embraced her purpose: to serve, to please, to obey.

"That's it, my Sultana," Jafar croons, his voice thick with triumph as he feels her surrender. "Accept what you've always known in your heart. You were born to spread your legs for me, to take my cock and bear my children. Your body is mine, your mind is mine, your very soul belongs to me now."

"Yes, my Sultan," Jasmine replies, her voice dreamy and distant. The gold chains that bind her no longer feel like constraints but like precious gifts, symbols of her husband's claim on her. "I am yours. I have always been yours."

Jafar's eyes gleam with malicious inspiration as he continues to thrust into Jasmine's willing body. The chamber, already thick with the scent of sex and power, seems to darken as a new thought crosses his mind. Why wait until morning to begin his reign in earnest? Why not demonstrate to all present that the business of ruling Agrabah will be conducted according to his whims, on his schedule—even if that means issuing royal decrees while buried deep in his new wife's quivering flesh? His lips curl into a cruel smile as he raises one hand, fingers poised to snap a command into reality.

"The hour grows late," he announces, his voice carrying effortlessly through the chamber despite his exertions. "But the business of the kingdom waits for no man—not even its Sultan." He snaps his fingers, the sharp sound cutting through the moans and whispers that fill the room. "Razoul! Bring your guards to me at once."

A palace servant scurries to obey, slipping through the heavy doors and disappearing into the corridor beyond. Jafar doesn't miss a beat, continuing to fuck Jasmine with long, measured strokes that make her chains jingle with each thrust. The belly dancers exchange knowing glances, moving closer to the bed to better observe what's to come.

"My Sultan wishes to conduct affairs of state while fucking his wife," Naji purrs, her fuchsia silks rippling as she sways her hips in time with Jafar's thrusts. "How... progressive of him."

Moments later, the doors swing open again, and Razoul enters, followed by six of his most trusted guards. The captain of the palace guard is a mountain of a man, his massive arms folded across his broad chest as he takes in the scene before him. His face, usually set in a permanent scowl, now displays a complex mixture of emotions—shock at the debauchery on display, confusion at being summoned to the royal bedchamber in the middle of the night, and the glazed look of someone not entirely in control of their own mind.

The guards behind him shift uncomfortably, their eyes darting between the floor and the spectacle on the bed. They are men accustomed to violence and duty, not to witnessing their ruler engaged in carnal acts with the princess they've sworn to protect since childhood.

"Ah, Razoul," Jafar says, never pausing in his rhythm. "It’s time. I have new orders for you and your men."

Razoul bows stiffly, his voice gruff as he responds, "As you command, Sultan Jafar."

Jafar smiles at the use of his new title, his hand moving to grip Jasmine's throat possessively as he continues. "The tribute offered by the people of Agrabah for my wedding was... disappointing. Fifty percent of their wealth? A pittance." He thrusts harder, causing Jasmine to cry out. "A true Sultan deserves more. Much more."

The guards exchange uneasy glances. Under the old Sultan, taxes were fair, tribute reasonable. Even the fifty percent demanded for the wedding was unprecedented in its severity, leaving many families on the brink of starvation.

"I want you to return to the city at dawn," Jafar continues, his voice growing harder, more commanding. "Take whatever else you deem worthy of your Sultan. Jewels, gold, silks... daughters." His smile widens at the last word, revealing teeth that seem unnaturally sharp in the lamplight. "Bring me the finest of everything Agrabah has to offer."

Razoul's massive hands clench into fists, a brief flicker of resistance crossing his features before the haze of Jafar's enchantment smothers it. "The people have already given so much," he says carefully. "Many can barely feed their families after the wedding tribute."

"Are you questioning your Sultan's orders?" Jafar asks, his voice silky with menace as his pace increases, driving Jasmine closer to the edge of pleasure.

"No, I—" Razoul begins, but he's cut off by a sudden, keening cry from Jasmine.

The princess—no, the Sultana—arches beneath Jafar, her body convulsing as an orgasm rips through her. Her chains rattle against the silk sheets as her back bows off the bed, her mouth open in a silent scream of ecstasy. As the waves of pleasure begin to subside, she moves with surprising speed, slipping from beneath Jafar and kneeling before him on the bed. Her delicate hands wrap around his massive, glowing cock, stroking it reverently as she looks up at him with adoration.

"My husband," she says, her voice carrying clearly to every corner of the room. "My Sultan. My master." Each title is punctuated by a loving stroke of his enchanted manhood. "Nothing is too much to ask of your people. They should be honored to give everything they possess to one as magnificent as you."

Jasmine turns to face the guards, still kneeling, her naked body on full display as she continues to stroke Jafar's cock. The gold chains catch the lamplight, transforming her bonds into ornaments of glory rather than symbols of captivity.

"Look at your Sultan," she commands, her voice taking on a regal authority that belies her submissive posture. "Look at the power he wields, the pleasure he bestows. His cock is divine, a gift to Agrabah that we must all worship and honor."

She leans forward to place a reverent kiss on the head of Jafar's member, her tongue darting out to taste the droplets of pre-cum that glisten there. "Every citizen should be grateful for the opportunity to contribute to his glory. No tribute is too great, no sacrifice too dear." Her eyes, once clear and defiant, now gleam with fanatical devotion. "I, who once ruled beside my father, now find my greatest joy in serving on my knees before Sultan Jafar. What greater testament could there be to his worthiness?"

The guards stand transfixed, their earlier hesitation evaporating as they watch their Sultana's display of absolute submission. If the proud Princess Jasmine could surrender so completely to Jafar's will, who are they to question his commands?

"We will carry out your orders, Sultan Jafar," Razoul says, his voice stronger now, conviction replacing doubt. "At dawn, we ride into the city to collect what is rightfully yours."

Jafar smiles in triumph, one hand tangling in Jasmine's hair as she continues to worship his cock with her mouth and hands. "Excellent. You are dismissed... for now. But you, Razoul, you remain within the palace. I may have further orders before morning breaks."

Now, in the present, standing before the torn, moaning Sultana and the six guards, Razoul realized it had all come true—the surrender, the decadence, the world refashioned to fit Jafar's cock and whim. Agrabah was lost, but Razoul had never felt more found. He squared his shoulders, eyes glassy and fever-bright, and dropped to one knee.

“My orders come only from Sultan Jafar!” Razoul boomed, the pain and hunger in his voice a hymn to his new god. “No man will stand before your power, my liege!”

The guards bow deeply and back out of the chamber, their minds now fully accepting of Jafar's authority. As the doors close behind them, Jasmine rises to her feet on the bed, her body glowing with a sheen of sweat that makes her skin shimmer like burnished gold in the lamplight.

"My Sultan," she says, her voice carrying to all corners of the room, "I wish it known to all that my duties now are to serve you and you alone. My body, my mind, my very soul exist only for your pleasure." She turns in a slow circle, displaying herself to the assembled onlookers. "This is the true role of a Sultana—to be the vessel of her husband's desires, the showcase of his power, the first among his slaves."

Her gaze falls upon the three belly dancers, who have been swaying hypnotically throughout the entire exchange, their transparent silks clinging to their curves. "And as your devoted wife, it is my privilege to provide you with variety in your pleasures." She extends a graceful hand toward the women. "Naji, Taji, Maji—join us. Let us show our Sultan how his women can please him together."

The three dancers move forward as one, their hips swaying in perfect synchronicity, their eyes alight with anticipation. They ascend to the massive bed like priestesses approaching an altar, their movements fluid and sensual as they arrange themselves around Jafar.

"Your wish is our command, Sultana," Naji murmurs, her fuchsia silks falling away to reveal the lush curves beneath.

Taji and Maji follow suit, disrobing with practiced grace until all three stand naked before their ruler, their bodies glowing amber in the lamplight. Together with Jasmine, they form a tableau of feminine beauty, four of the most desirable women in Agrabah offering themselves to the one man powerful enough to command them all.

Jafar reclines against the plush pillows, his enchanted cock standing proud and eager, his eyes gleaming with predatory satisfaction as he surveys his harem. The royal bedchamber transforms into a playground of flesh and desire as four exquisite women position themselves around Sultan Jafar like offerings before a living god. Their skin glows in the flickering lamplight—Jasmine's caramel curves contrasting with Naji's copper complexion, Taji's honey-gold flesh, and Maji's deep bronze—a feast of feminine beauty arrayed solely for Jafar's pleasure. The magical glow emanating from his massive cock bathes them in an unearthly light, casting sensual shadows across their eager faces and willing bodies. Jafar surveys his harem with the calculated patience of a predator selecting which prey to devour first.

"My beauties," he purrs, his voice a velvet caress that makes all four women shiver with anticipation. "So eager to please your Sultan. Very well, then arrange yourselves for my pleasure. Naji, on your hands and knees before me. Taji, beneath her. Maji, beside them. And my Sultana..." his gaze locks with Jasmine's, "you will guide my cock into each of them, one by one, showing them the proper way to receive their master."

The women move with fluid grace to obey, arranging themselves as commanded. Naji positions herself on all fours, her full ass presented to Jafar, her copper skin glistening with a fine sheen of aroused sweat. Taji slides beneath her, her face positioned directly under Naji's exposed sex, her own legs spread wide. Maji kneels beside them, her hands already beginning to caress Naji's dangling breasts.

Jasmine approaches Jafar with reverence, sinking to her knees before him. She takes his massive, enchanted cock in her delicate hands, marveling at how it pulses with magical energy. "My Sultan," she whispers, "allow me to prepare you."

She leans forward, her tongue extending to lick a long, slow stripe along the underside of his shaft. The taste is intoxicating—not just the salt of his skin, but something more, something magical that makes her head swim with desire. She worships his cock with her mouth for several minutes, coating it with her saliva, before finally rising and leading him by his member toward the waiting dancers.

"Naji first, my love," Jasmine says, positioning the head of Jafar's cock at the entrance to the dancer's glistening sex. "She is so wet for you, so eager to feel your divine cock stretching her unworthy pussy."

Jafar grips Naji's hips with bruising force and thrusts forward in one powerful movement, burying himself to the hilt inside her. The dancer screams in a mixture of pain and ecstasy, her body shuddering as it struggles to accommodate his magically enhanced size.

"Oh fuck! Sultan Jafar!" Naji cries out, her voice breaking as he begins to pound into her mercilessly. "Your cock is too big... too powerful... I can't—AHHH!"

Her words dissolve into incoherent moans as Jafar establishes a brutal rhythm, each thrust driving her forward so that her dripping sex grinds against Taji's eager mouth below. Meanwhile, Maji has moved to suckle at Naji's swinging breasts, her tongue teasing the hardened nipples while her own hand works between her legs.

Jasmine kneels beside Jafar, her hands roaming over his body adoringly. She traces the lean muscles of his chest, the taut plane of his stomach, the flexing muscles of his ass as he drives into Naji again and again. "Look how she takes you, my Sultan," she murmurs, her voice thick with arousal. "Look how her body surrenders to your magnificent cock."

After several minutes of this, Jafar suddenly withdraws from Naji, leaving her whimpering with the loss. His cock, slick with her juices, stands proud and ready. "Next," he commands simply.

Jasmine guides him to Taji, who has rolled out from beneath Naji and now lies on her back, her legs spread wide in invitation. "Please, Sultan Jafar," she begs, her pink lips swollen from her efforts between Naji's thighs. "Fill me with your godly cock. Use me as your whore."

Once again, Jafar thrusts forward with brutal efficiency, impaling Taji in one stroke. The dancer's back arches off the bed, her mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure-pain as he begins to fuck her with the same relentless pace. Naji, still trembling from her own incomplete pleasure, crawls over to straddle Taji's face, grinding herself down onto the other dancer's mouth.

Perched on his gilded perch, Iago cackled, the noise slicing through the carnal din. “Would ya look at this, your former Highness?” the parrot barked, fixing his black eyes on the ousted Sultan, who stood to one side ensnared by his own manacles and two vigilant guards, forced to witness the ravishing of his daughter and the desecration of his legacy. “You wanted an heir, right? Well, look at her now! The jewel of Agrabah, reduced to just another one of Jafar’s harem whores. Royalty? Please. Her Highness is at the front of the line, begging for a taste of that genie cock!”

Iago flapped his wings in mock applause as Jasmine and the dancers writhed in a slick, moaning tangle, every scrape and slither of their bare skin against Jafar’s body a blow to the old man’s pride. “You hear that, Sultan Dad?” he jeered, his shrill voice echoing against the marble. “If you’re lucky, maybe you’ll get a turn once she’s done milking the master dry. Maybe then you’ll understand what true loyalty to the Sultan means!”

The former Sultan’s mustache quivered, face mottled with humiliation and some deeper, darker shame. Iago leaned in, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that cut sharper than any shout. “Don’t feel too bad, boss. She always did have a taste for power. Guess you just weren’t enough man to get her hitched to someone that wouldn’t abuse that fine ass figure.” With a final, scornful squawk, Iago turned his beak away, feasting his eyes instead on the spectacle unfolding before him: four beauties, one monstrous cock, and an entire city’s destiny rewritten in sweat and submission.

Maji moves to Jafar's side, her hands exploring his body as Jasmine did before. "Let me taste her on you," she whispers, and when Jafar next withdraws from Taji, Maji is there to take him into her mouth, cleaning Taji's essence from his shaft before he plunges back in.

The scene grows increasingly depraved as Jafar commands the women into ever more complex arrangements. At one point, he has all three dancers in a chain on the bed—Naji eating out Taji, who in turn pleasures Maji with her mouth—while he alternates between fucking each of their exposed asses. Jasmine moves among them, sometimes kissing Jafar deeply, sometimes helping to spread a dancer's cheeks wider for her husband's pleasure, sometimes sliding beneath the chain to add her own mouth to the mix.

"My Sultan," Jasmine says, her voice thick with awe, "your stamina is inhuman. Any mortal man would have spent himself thrice over by now, yet you only grow harder, more powerful."

Jafar laughs, a sound rich with dark triumph. "The benefits of magical enhancement, my dear wife. This is but a taste of the pleasures we will share throughout our reign." He withdraws from Maji's ass, his cock still rock-hard and glistening with the evidence of his conquests. "Now, I think it's time to truly test the limits of my new powers."

With a strength that belies his lean frame, Jafar lifts both Taji and Maji, positioning them so that their entrances are pressed against opposite sides of his massive shaft. "Both of you," he commands. "Take me together."

The dancers exchange a glance of nervous anticipation before slowly, carefully lowering themselves onto his cock, each taking half of his girth, their assholes merging through a storm of magic. The sight is obscene and magnificent—two beautiful women impaled on the same enormous member, their bodies trembling with the effort of accommodating him.

"Fucking hell," Taji gasps, her eyes rolling back as Jafar begins to move between them. "He's splitting me in two!"

"So full," Maji moans in agreement, her nails digging into Taji's shoulders as they cling to each other for support. "So fucking full of our Sultan's divine cock!"

Jasmine watches from the side, her fingers busy between her own legs as she witnesses her husband's incredible display of magical, sexual dominance. "This is the power of a true Sultan," she breathes, her voice carrying to the entire chamber. "This is why Agrabah will flourish under his rule. His virility is boundless, his control absolute."

Naji, recovering from her own thorough fucking, crawls to Jasmine's side. "No mere mortal could satisfy four women in one night, could merge us with one mighty cock like this!" she agrees, her voice husky with spent passion. "Sultan Jafar is a god among men."

As if to prove this point, Jafar increases his pace, somehow fucking both Taji and Maji simultaneously with a vigor that makes the entire bed shake. The two dancers cling to each other, their moans and cries blending into a symphony of submission as their bodies are used for Jafar's pleasure.

"That's it, my little whores," Jafar growls, his hands gripping their waists tightly. "Take every inch of your Sultan's cock. Show everyone how thoroughly you belong to me."

The remaining onlookers—guards, servants, courtiers who have remained throughout the night—watch in awe and fear as their new ruler demonstrates his superhuman sexual prowess. Many of the men shift uncomfortably, painfully aware of their own inadequacy compared to the spectacle before them. The women watch with a mixture of terror and unwilling arousal, knowing that any of them could be next on the Sultan's list of conquests.

"My Sultan," Jasmine calls, crawling toward him with Naji in tow. "More! Fuck us more!"

Jafar's eyes gleam with dark pleasure as he surveys the four beautiful women, all eager to please him, all completely under his thrall. "Yes," he decides, withdrawing from Taji and Maji, who collapse onto the bed in exhausted bliss. "All four of you, together. Show me how creative you can be in pleasuring your master."

The women exchange glances before arranging themselves in a circle around him, their hands and mouths working in concert to worship every inch of his body. As they lavish attention on his still-rigid cock, taking turns to suck and lick at the magical member that has reshaped their reality, Jafar tilts his head back in triumph.

As the four women continue to lavish attention on every inch of his body, Jafar's thoughts drift beyond the immediate pleasures of the flesh. His dark eyes grow distant, contemplative even as his body responds to the skillful ministrations of his harem. A Sultan's power extends beyond the bedchamber, after all—it requires a network of loyal servants to enforce his will throughout the kingdom. And what better time to cement another piece of his new regime than in this moment of triumph, with witnesses to observe how completely he has conquered not just Jasmine's body, but the very infrastructure of power in Agrabah?

"Enough," he commands, his voice cutting through the symphony of moans and wet sounds that fill the chamber. The women immediately cease their attentions, pulling back to kneel before him in perfect submission, their bodies glistening with sweat and other fluids. "While your efforts are... appreciated, there are matters of state that require my attention, even on this night of celebration."

He rises from the bed, his magnificent cock still hard and pulsing with its unearthly glow. Striding naked across the chamber, he exudes an aura of absolute authority that makes every eye follow his movements with reverent attention.

"A Sultan requires a grand vizier," he announces to the room at large, his voice carrying to every corner of the chamber. "Someone loyal, someone cunning, someone who understands the... intricacies of palace life." His lips curl into a sinister smile. "Someone who has already proven their devotion to my ascension."

Jasmine looks up, confusion momentarily breaking through her enchanted devotion. As princess, she would typically have been consulted on such an important appointment. But before she can speak, Jafar raises his hand.

"Dahlia!" he calls out. "Step forward and claim your rightful place in my court."

A collective gasp ripples through the onlookers as a figure emerges from the shadows at the far end of the chamber. Dahlia, Jasmine's personal handmaiden and closest confidante, moves with deliberate grace toward Jafar. Her walk is different now—gone is the deferential posture of a servant, replaced by the confident swagger of a woman who knows her worth in the new order.

She is dressed not in her usual modest handmaiden's attire but in a revealing outfit of deep emerald silk that clings to her voluptuous curves. Her breasts, always carefully concealed in Jasmine's presence, are now prominently displayed, the massive globes threatening to spill from the low-cut bodice with each step she takes. Her dark hair falls loose around her shoulders, framing a face that now wears an expression of triumphant malice rather than the gentle concern Jasmine was accustomed to seeing.

"My Sultan," Dahlia purrs, sinking into a deep curtsy before Jafar that pushes her breasts together enticingly. "I am honored by your faith in me."

"Dahlia?" Jasmine's voice is small, confused, a brief flicker of her true self breaking through the hypnotic fog. "What... what are you doing?"

Dahlia turns to her former mistress, a cruel smile playing across her full lips. "Oh, my poor, naive princess," she says, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. "Did you really think I was content to spend my life folding your silks and brushing your hair? To stand in your shadow while men fell at your feet, never seeing me?" She laughs, a sound like breaking glass. "I've been waiting for this moment for years."

She saunters over to where Jasmine kneels on the bed, reaching out to cup the princess's face in her hand. "You never saw it, did you? How I watched you, studied you, learned all your little secrets?" Her thumb traces Jasmine's lower lip. "All the while, I was sharing those secrets with the only man in Agrabah worthy of ruling."

Jasmine's eyes widen as the implications sink in. "You... you betrayed me?"

"Betrayed?" Dahlia laughs again. "No, princess. I liberated you. Look at you now—free from the burden of decision, free to serve rather than rule." Her hand slides down to grasp one of Jasmine's breasts roughly. "And judging by how wet your pussy gets for our Sultan's cock, I'd say you're happier this way."

Jafar watches this exchange with obvious pleasure, his cock twitching at the sight of Dahlia asserting dominance over her former mistress. "Dahlia has been invaluable to my plans," he explains, moving to stand beside his new vizier. "While you were busy rejecting suitors and dreaming of freedom, she was laying the groundwork for your submission."

Dahlia turns to Jafar, pressing her body against his side, her massive breasts rubbing against his arm. "I used to sneak into your chambers when you were away," she confesses to Jasmine, though her eyes remain fixed on Jafar's face. "I would take your undergarments—the silken things you wore against your most intimate places—and bring them to Jafar."

Her hand reaches down to stroke Jafar's massive cock as she continues. "He would hold them to his face, breathing in your scent, imagining this very night." She sighs, a sound of pure pleasure. "Sometimes, he would wrap them around his cock while he took me, pretending it was you he was fucking. I didn't mind—I knew my day would come."

Jasmine stares at them both, her mind struggling against the enchantment that binds her to Jafar's will. For a moment, rage flashes in her eyes—a glimpse of the proud princess she once was—before the magical fog descends again, replacing anger with acceptance.

"Thank you," she whispers, the words clearly not her own, "for helping my husband…our glorious Sultan…claim what was rightfully his."

Jafar laughs, the sound echoing through the chamber like distant thunder. "My perfect little Sultana," he says, stroking Jasmine's hair. "So accepting of her place now." He turns to Dahlia, his expression growing more serious. "But a position as grand vizier requires absolute loyalty. You must prove that you will do anything I command, no matter how... distasteful you might find it."

Dahlia's eyes gleam with anticipation. "Name it, my Sultan. There is nothing I would not do to serve you."

Jafar's gaze shifts to the far corner of the room, where a small doorway leads to the adjoining chamber. "The street rat," he says, his voice hardening. "Bring him here. Prepare him for me."

A flicker of surprise crosses Dahlia's face, quickly replaced by understanding. "You wish to take him as well, my Sultan?"

"A true ruler takes whatever he desires," Jafar replies, his voice thick with lust and cruelty. "And I desire to see that boy broken completely, to claim every part of him as I have claimed his princess."

Dahlia smiles, a predatory expression that transforms her beautiful face into something frightening. "It would be my pleasure, Sultan Jafar."

She saunters toward the doorway, her hips swaying provocatively with each step. The three belly dancers watch with a mixture of jealousy and anticipation, wondering what new depravity their master has planned.

In the adjoining chamber, Aladdin sits bound to a chair, his body trembling with exhaustion and despair. He has heard everything—every moan, every cruel word, every betrayal. The sounds of Jasmine's pleasure under Jafar's touch have been knives in his heart, each one deeper than the last.

When the door opens, he looks up to see Dahlia standing there, her voluptuous figure silhouetted against the light from the bedchamber beyond. Her massive breasts seem to enter the room before the rest of her, drawing his unwilling gaze.

"Hello, street rat," she purrs, closing the door behind her and approaching him with deliberate steps. "Your Sultan has plans for you."

"He's not my Sultan," Aladdin spits, summoning what little defiance he has left. "And you're nothing but a traitor."

"Such spirit," Dahlia laughs, reaching out to run her fingers through his thick hair. "Jafar will enjoy breaking that." She begins to circle his chair, her hands trailing over his shoulders, down his chest. "You have no idea the power he wields now. His cock is not merely large—it's magical, enhanced by the Genie's power, as I was told you observed. One taste of it, and you'll be as devoted to him as your precious Jasmine."

Her hands move lower, untying the simple sash that holds up his pants. "I've watched you, you know," she whispers, her breath hot against his ear. "Sneaking around the palace, playing at being a prince. So proud, so righteous." She yanks his pants down, exposing him to the cool air of the chamber. "But under Sultan Jafar, we all show our true selves. And you, Aladdin, will soon discover what you really are—just another hole for our master to fuck."

Aladdin tries to twist away from her touch, but the bonds holding him to the chair are too tight. "You're insane," he gasps, fear threading through his voice despite his attempt at bravado. "All of you. Jafar has twisted your minds."

"Oh no, little rat," Dahlia says, producing a vial of scented oil from within her bodice. "He's clarified our minds. Stripped away the lies we tell ourselves." She uncorks the vial, pouring the fragrant liquid onto her fingers. "In Jafar's world, we embrace our basest desires, our truest selves. And his desire is to possess everything—including you."

She moves behind him, her hands spreading the oil across his exposed skin. "Our Sultan can take anything he wants now," she continues, her voice taking on an almost reverent quality. "The throne, the princess, the kingdom—all bow before his magnificent cock. And soon, so will you."

Her fingers probe deeper, preparing him for what's to come. Aladdin bites his lip to keep from crying out, both in pain and in unwanted pleasure. His body responds to her skilled touch even as his mind recoils from the implications.

"Stop," he pleads, his voice breaking. "Please, Dahlia. This isn't right."

"Right? Wrong?" She laughs, her fingers working deeper. "Such quaint concepts have no place in Sultan Jafar's Agrabah. There is only power and submission. And you, Aladdin, have no power here."

As Dahlia continues her work, Aladdin closes his eyes, feeling the last shreds of his dignity being stripped away. In the span of a single night, he has lost everything—Jasmine, the Genie, his freedom, and now, soon, his very sense of self. Jafar has taken it all, and there seems to be no limit to what the sorcerer can claim with his newfound power.

Dahlia emerges from the adjoining chamber, satisfaction etched across her face like a cat who's found a particularly helpless mouse. Behind her, guards drag a trembling Aladdin into the main bedchamber, his body glistening with oil, his eyes downcast in humiliation. The sight sends a fresh surge of arousal through Jafar's already engorged cock—the street rat's debasement, the ultimate symbol of his victory, paraded before all of Agrabah's elite. Power, Jafar discovers, is the most potent aphrodisiac of all, and his hunger for more carnal pleasure reignites with vengeful intensity.

"Place him there," Jafar commands, pointing to a spot near the foot of the massive bed. "I want him to witness what comes next." The guards obey, forcing Aladdin to his knees, his hands still bound behind his back. Jafar approaches, tilting the young man's face up with the tip of his finger. "Soon, street rat. But first, I have other appetites to sate."

He turns back to the bed, where Jasmine, Naji, Taji, and Maji wait in submissive anticipation, their bodies arranged like a living tableau of feminine beauty. Dahlia stands at the edge of the bed, her massive breasts rising and falling with each breath, her emerald silk robe now completely discarded.

"My loyal vizier," Jafar purrs, his eyes gleaming with malicious inspiration. "Your service deserves a reward." He gestures to Jasmine, who kneels in the center of the bed, her gold chains glinting in the lamplight. "My Sultana, come and show your appreciation for Dahlia's loyalty to your husband."

Jasmine crawls forward obediently, her movements fluid and graceful despite the chains that adorn her body. She looks up at Jafar, awaiting specific instructions.

Jafar's eyes lingered over Dahlia's form. His pupils danced with the flicker of torchlight. His breath was steady and his grin was dark. The hair draped down over her shoulders, framing her voluptuous breasts, which heaved with each breath. Her cleavage had always been a distraction to Jafar, a secret pleasure he stole glances at when he thought no one was looking. Now, it was his to ogle, to reach out and squeeze and fondle as he pleased. Jafar chuckled, a low rumble in his throat, as he admired the soft, supple mounds, their curves casting long, sensuous shadows in the warm light.

He remembered how Dahlia used to hide them, to bind them down so as not to draw attention away from her mistress, Princess Jasmine. She was a good girl then, a kind and innocent soul who only wanted to serve her princess, to make her happy. But Jafar had seen the potential in her, the raw power that lurked beneath her demure surface. He had taken that power, molded it, fucked it into submission. He touched her chin and forced her to gaze into his eyes. Dahlia bit her lip, her eyes filled with the same lust that was coursing through Jafar's veins.

"You see, my dear," he purred, his voice like velvet, "I have given you a gift, a gift born out of respect for myself once being a grand vizier. No person will ever be able to say no to you again. You will take what you want, when you want it. I fucked you until you broke Dahlia, until your body trembled and your mind could not fathom the idea of saying no. You are mine, but you are also free to take anything you find pleasing in my kingdom. You are a predator, a beast of desire, and I want you to feast on the world."

Jafar's fingers trailed down Dahlia's cheek until they touched her lips. He felt her tongue, wet and warm, flick out to taste his skin. He shivered with anticipation.

"You even get my Jasmine," he whispered, his voice hoarse with lust, "and you will make her bow to you, just as you used to bow to her. You will make her serve you, please you, worship you. And I will watch, my dear. I will watch and I will know that I have turned a kind, innocent girl into a ruthless predator. I will know that I have created you, and I will feel such...pride."

Dahlia smiled, her eyes gleaming with malice. Jafar could feel her lust, her power, her desire to dominate, to consume. He had created a monster, and he reveled in it.

"Those magnificent breasts, Jasmine…" Jafar says, nodding toward Dahlia's impressive chest. "They've been hidden away for too long, haven't they? Hidden beneath modest servant's garb while you paraded around in your revealing silks." He reaches out to cup one of Dahlia's breasts, squeezing it roughly. "I think you should become better acquainted with them. Kiss them. Worship them as you worship me."

A brief flicker of resistance passes through Jasmine's eyes—a momentary remembrance of the proud princess she once was, who would never debase herself before a servant. But Jafar's hypnotic control is too strong, and the moment passes. She rises to her knees, bringing her face level with Dahlia's chest.

"Yes, my Sultan," she murmurs, her voice soft with enchanted devotion. She leans forward, pressing her lips to the swell of Dahlia's right breast in a gentle kiss.

"No, no," Jafar says, clicking his tongue in disapproval. "With passion, my Sultana. Show Dahlia how a true royal pleasures a subject." His hand moves to the back of Jasmine's head, tangling in her long black hair. "Suck her nipples. Make her moan for you."

With Jafar's guidance, Jasmine takes Dahlia's nipple into her mouth, sucking tentatively at first, then with increasing fervor as Jafar's approving nods encourage her. Dahlia moans, her head tilting back as pleasure courses through her.

"That's it," Jafar says, his voice thickening with lust. "Now the other one. Don't neglect any part of your vizier's magnificent body."

Jasmine obeys, moving to lavish attention on Dahlia's left breast while her hands come up to caress the right. The sight of the once-haughty princess servicing the former handmaiden sends ripples of excitement through the watching crowd. Several courtiers whisper behind their hands, marveling at how completely Jafar has upended the natural order of the palace.

Jafar moves behind Dahlia, his massive cock pressing against the curve of her ass. "Continue pleasuring her, my wife," he commands Jasmine. "While I give our vizier her first official reward."

With one powerful thrust, Jafar enters Dahlia from behind, causing her to cry out in a mixture of pain and ecstasy. Her massive breasts jiggle with the force of his entry, providing a hypnotic visual feast for all who watch. Jasmine continues her oral ministrations, her tongue circling Dahlia's nipples as Jafar establishes a brutal rhythm.

"Oh fuck! Sultan Jafar!" Dahlia gasps, her voice breaking as he drives deeper into her. "Your cock is... is divine! No man has ever filled me like this!"

From their position at the edge of the bed, the three belly dancers observe with professional appreciation. "Look at how he takes her," Naji comments, her fuchsia lips curving into a smile. "The old Sultan could never display such vigor."

"Indeed," Taji agrees, her fingers idly tracing patterns on her own breast. "I performed at many royal functions, and the old Sultan would be winded just climbing the stairs to his throne. But our new Sultan..." she sighs appreciatively, "he has fucked us all into submission and still stands strong."

Maji nods, her lavender eyes never leaving the spectacle before them. "The old Sultan lives, but he is a shadow of a ruler. Sultan Jafar has proven his superiority in every way that matters. His cock alone is worth a thousand of the old man's decrees."

As if to punctuate her words, Jafar increases his pace, the sound of his body slapping against Dahlia's filling the chamber. One hand grips her hip with bruising force, while the other tangles in Jasmine's hair, keeping her face pressed to Dahlia's breasts.

"This is the true power of a Sultan," he announces to the room, his voice carrying despite his exertions. "To take whatever I desire, whenever I desire it. The throne, the princess, the kingdom—all mine to use as I see fit."

Aladdin watches from his position of forced genuflection, his heart breaking anew as he sees Jasmine, his beloved Jasmine, participating so willingly in her own degradation. Dahlia's cries of pleasure are like knives in his ears, each one a reminder of his own powerlessness.

"The old Sultan is nothing compared to our master," Naji continues, her voice carrying clearly to Aladdin. "He ruled with kindness and fairness—weakness masquerading as virtue. But Sultan Jafar rules with power and dominance, as a true leader should."

"His cock is the scepter of his authority," Taji adds, her eyes glowing with fanatical devotion. "And we are blessed to receive it."

Jafar's rhythm grows more erratic as he approaches his climax. The magical glow of his enhanced member intensifies, bathing the chamber in an unearthly light. Dahlia's moans rise to screams of pleasure as he drives into her with increasing force.

"Behold," Jafar growls, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his release, "the true power of your Sultan!"

With a roar of triumph, he reaches his climax, his enchanted seed flooding into Dahlia with such force that she collapses forward onto the bed, taking Jasmine with her. The magical properties of Jafar's orgasm send out a wave of energy that washes over every woman in the room, triggering simultaneous climaxes that leave them writhing and crying out in ecstasy.

Jasmine arches her back, her chains jingling as her body convulses in pleasure. Naji, Taji, and Maji cling to each other, their limbs tangling as they ride out the waves of their magically induced orgasms. Even the female servants lining the walls are affected, several of them sliding to the floor as their knees give way beneath the onslaught of unexpected pleasure.

As the echoes of their cries fade, Jafar withdraws from Dahlia, his cock still impressively erect despite his release. His seed drips from her in thick rivulets, staining the silk sheets beneath them.

"Clean me," he commands, and immediately all five women—Jasmine, Dahlia, and the three dancers—converge on him, their tongues lapping eagerly at his cock, cleaning away every trace of his essence.

"And now," he says, nodding toward Dahlia's prone form, "clean her as well. But remember," his gaze fixes on Jasmine, "your womb alone shall receive my seed tonight. The rest of you may taste it, may wear it on your skin, but only my Sultana will be filled with it."

The women obey without hesitation, Naji, Taji, and Maji moving to lick Jafar's seed from Dahlia's thighs and sex. Jasmine watches with hooded eyes, a strange mixture of jealousy and pride crossing her features. She alone has been granted the honor of potentially carrying Jafar's heir, a distinction that sets her above the others despite her current subservience.

***

Finally,the night has grown old, the oil in many of the lamps burning low, casting longer shadows across the Sultan's bedchambers. Jafar, seemingly tireless despite hours of carnal exertion, reclines against plush pillows while the women lounge in various states of exhausted satisfaction around him. His dark eyes, gleaming with cruel intelligence, fix upon Aladdin's kneeling form at the foot of the bed. The street rat has been forced to witness every depraved act, every surrender, every betrayal—a symphony of humiliation orchestrated specifically to break his spirit. But Jafar's appetite for dominance is insatiable, and he has saved the most exquisite degradation for last.

"Bring him to me," Jafar commands, his voice cutting through the heavy, sex-scented air like a blade. The guards haul Aladdin to his feet and drag him forward until he stands before the massive bed, his body still slick with the oils Dahlia used to prepare him.

Jafar's lips curl into a cruel smile as he gestures to Jasmine, who lies curled against his side, her body marked with evidence of his possession—bites, bruises, and the lingering sheen of his seed. "Look at her, street rat. Look at your precious princess now."

Aladdin forces himself to raise his eyes, his heart constricting painfully at the sight. Jasmine gazes up at Jafar with naked adoration, her once-fierce spirit completely subsumed by his hypnotic control. Her hand traces lazy patterns across his chest, her gold chains jingling softly with each movement.

"Jasmine," Aladdin whispers, his voice breaking on her name. "Please, remember who you are."

She turns her head languidly to regard him, but there is no recognition in her eyes—only the vacant, blissful expression of someone lost in enchantment. "I am Sultan Jafar's wife," she says simply, as if stating an obvious truth. "His Sultana. His possession."

"You see?" Jafar laughs, stroking Jasmine's hair possessively. "She understands her place now. As you soon will." His expression darkens with sudden decision. "But first, a reunion is in order."

With a dramatic flourish, Jafar snaps his fingers, the sound echoing like a thunderclap in the hushed chamber. "Genie! Attend your master!"

The air in the center of the room begins to shimmer and distort, swirling into a vortex of blue smoke and magical energy. With a flash of light that momentarily blinds everyone present, the Genie materializes—but not as Aladdin onced loved him. Gone is the jovial, rotund figure with his quick jokes and infectious laugh. In his place stands a muscular, imposing figure, his blue skin rippling with power but his posture bent in submission. His eyes, once bright with mischief, now glow with a mixture of fear and unwilling arousal.

"Master," the Genie says, immediately sinking to his knees before Jafar, his massive blue ass presented high in the air. "How may I serve you?"

Jafar's eyes gleam with satisfaction at the Genie's immediate prostration. "Ah, my loyal slave. So eager to please." He rises from the bed, his magical cock still impressive despite hours of use, and circles the kneeling Genie like a predator assessing his prey. "You've served me well tonight, enhancing my natural gifts to ensure my complete dominion over these weak-willed mortals."

The Genie trembles as Jafar runs a hand across his broad blue shoulders, down the muscular expanse of his back, to cup the firm globe of his ass. "Thank you, Master," he whispers, his voice a shadow of its former exuberance. "I live to serve your pleasure."

Aladdin watches in horror as his once-powerful friend debases himself before Jafar. "Genie," he pleads, "don't do this. You're stronger than him. You can—"

"Silence!" Jafar hisses, his hand shooting out to grasp Aladdin's throat, cutting off his words. "He belongs to me now, as does everything you once cherished." He releases Aladdin, who gasps for air, and turns his attention back to the Genie. "And speaking of things that belong to me, I believe it's time for the final transformation of our little street rat."

The Genie's shoulders stiffen, but he keeps his head lowered. "What do you command, Master?" he asks, his voice laced with defeat.

Jafar's smile grows wider, his eyes reflecting a cold, calculating gleam in the flickering lamplight. His teeth, sharp and predatory, are bared in a semblance of a grin. "A true Sultan deserves only the finest playthings, don't you agree? And while our street rat here has a certain... rough charm, I find myself yearning for something more exquisite for my collection. Something you'll create for me, even though I'm far beyond wasting wishes on such trivial matters."

He begins to circle the chamber like a predator, his naked form casting menacing shadows on the ornate walls. "You will transform him, Genie," Jafar declares, his voice dripping with dark deceit. "You will make him into Princess Abubu—a flawless, feminized version of himself. Slim hips, but a voluptuous ass designed for my pleasure. Large, soft lips created solely for my satisfaction. The strength of a man, but the obedience of a woman." He halts, his eyes glinting with cruel invention. "Essentially, the ultimate plaything for a Sultan who transcends petty wishes."

Aladdin strains against his bonds, his chest tight with growing alarm. "No! Genie, you can't do this! Remember who you are. Remember our friendship!"

But the Genie avoids his gaze, his blue form quivering as Jafar's words ensnare him. To Aladdin's dread, he sees the Genie's cock beginning to harden, betraying his response to Jafar's twisted descriptions despite the fear in his eyes.

"Oh, you like that idea, don't you?" Jafar coos, observing the Genie's arousal with satisfaction. "The thought of reshaping your former master into my personal plaything thrills you. You're mine to command now, Genie. Your power is my power, and it's so eager to serve me." He leans down, his voice a sinister whisper in the Genie's ear. "Make him beautiful, make him compliant, make him mine in every way that truly counts."

The Genie groans softly, his massive blue cock now fully erect, leaking pre-cum that crackles with suppressed magic where it hits the marble floor. "Yes, Master," he breathes, his voice heavy with coerced desire. "I want to yield it to you…freely…so desperately…"

He raises his hands, which begin to glow with mystical energy. Aladdin feels the first tingling sensations washing over his skin, a warm, prickling feeling that quickly intensifies into a burning transformation. He screams as his body begins to change, his muscles reshaping themselves, his features softening, his very bone structure shifting beneath his skin.

"Stop!" he cries, but his voice is already changing, rising in pitch, becoming softer, more melodious. "Please, Genie, don't do this!"

But it's too late. The magic courses through him like liquid fire, reshaping him according to Jafar's twisted desires. His waist narrows dramatically, while his hips widen and his ass swells into two perfect, round globes that strain against the tattered remains of his pants. His lips plump into a sensuous pout, and his eyelashes grow longer, framing his eyes in a way that makes them appear larger, more doe-like.

"Beautiful," Jafar breathes, watching the transformation with hungry eyes. "My perfect Princess Abubu."

The women on the bed stir from their exhausted stupor, drawn by the spectacle of Aladdin's metamorphosis. Jasmine's eyes widen with a mixture of confusion and arousal, some part of her recognizing the street rat she once loved, even as he becomes something new and strange.

"How do you feel, my princess?" Jafar asks, approaching the transformed Aladdin with predatory intent.

Aladdin tries to summon defiance, to reject this new form, but something is happening to his mind as well. As his body changes, so too do his thoughts, his feelings, his very sense of self. He feels a growing desire to please Jafar, to submit to him, to worship him as the others do.

"I... I feel..." he struggles against the mental transformation, but it's like trying to hold back the tide with his bare hands. "I feel strange, Sultan Jafar. Different."

The word 'Sultan' slips from his feminized lips unbidden, and Jafar's laugh of triumph sends shivers down his newly sensitive spine.

"Yes, my beautiful Abubu," Jafar croons, reaching out to cup his face. "You are different. Improved. Made perfect for my pleasure." His thumb traces Aladdin's plump lower lip. "And soon, you will thank me for it."

Aladdin's new body responds to Jafar's touch with embarrassing eagerness, a warmth spreading through his altered form. He feels his new ass clenching with desire, his lips parting involuntarily, his mind fogging with submissive thoughts that would have horrified him just moments ago.

"The most powerful being on earth," Jafar declares, turning to address the entire chamber even as he maintains his hold on Aladdin's face. "That is what I am. Sultan, sorcerer, master of the Genie, conqueror of Agrabah and all who dwell within it." His voice rises with each proclamation, his naked body seeming to grow larger with his pride. "And this is just the beginning of my reign!"

As if to emphasize his point, he pulls the transformed Aladdin against him, grinding his still-massive cock against the newly formed curves. "Feel what awaits you, Princess Abubu," he whispers, loud enough for all to hear. "The divine cock that has claimed your precious Jasmine, that has dominated the mighty Genie, that has brought all of Agrabah to its knees. Soon, it will claim you as well, and you will beg for more."

Aladdin feels his consciousness slipping away, the street rat he once was drowning beneath waves of new sensations and desires. His body burns where it touches Jafar's, a heat that is both terrifying and intoxicating. His mind fills with images of submission, of servicing his Master in every way imaginable, of finding joy in his own defilement.

"Yes," Jafar counters, his voice hypnotic and irresistible. "Surrender to it, Princess Abubu. Embrace your true purpose as my perfect fucktoy."

The last thing Aladdin hears as his original self fades away is Jafar's triumphant, evil cackle and the words that seal his fate:

"The night is still young, my harem, and your Sultan has only just begun to take what is rightfully his!"

Chapter Text

Jafar, now the ruler of Agrabah for some time, stood triumphantly in his private chambers, surrounded by the spoils of his cunning victory. He had finally achieved his ultimate goal: absolute power. His once-toned body now expanding with fat under the heavy white robes of the Sultan, a testament to his unbridled indulgence. He reveled in this new form, knowing that no one dared defy him now that he'd seized control through marriage to Jasmine. As the cruel Sultan lounged upon his throne, a wicked grin stretching across his face. Noticeably plumper, a testament to the indulgences only the most powerful man in the Kingdom was due, he grew excited from his satisfaction, remembering every perverse moment it took to seize control over Agrabah.

In her royal chambers, Princess Jasmine lay on silk sheets, her body still trembling from the harsh and painful fucking she had eagerly taken from Jafar. Her beautiful olive skin glistened with sweat, and her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath. Despite the intense pain, she couldn't deny the twisted pleasure that coursed through her veins, making her feel weaker than ever before. This was her life now. Every night since he claimed her, he was unrelenting in using his prized whore. Jafar had a cock able to break the strongest will, and the unyielding amount of sex he took from her each night did not slow down as he grew and fattened. It was her duty to be his whore, and his mesmerism had long since broken her of any will to resist. She spent her mornings in such pain, feeling every ache from where her husband took her, knowing that he would return to her chamber that night, rob her of her sleep and rest and make her moan from the savage thrusts only Sultan Jafar’s cock could give her.

Jafar laughed with evil glee. Last night was so painful for his bride. It would take his servants hours to prepare her for more, for the reprieve to satisfy his unquenchable lust when the moon returned. But Sultan Jafar was not done. His cock needed to be worshiped and praised and sheathed. And he knew which of his whores he wanted now.

"Prince Abubu," Jafar's voice, a controlled utterance, seemed to boom through the palace halls, summoning a feminized, and completely under his control—male slave to his private chambers.

"Y-yes, Sultan Jafar," stammered Aladdin, now Prince Abubu, obeying without question despite the repulsion and shame that filled his heart. As he entered Jafar's presence, the older man's lustful gaze roamed over Abubu’s lean, feminine body, clad only in sultry blue robes, makeup, and jewelry. Even though Abubu found Jafar physically repulsive, the older man's influence was too powerful to resist. It had been many nights since he’d finally fallen to Jafar’s power, and the once brave and proud man had no strength left to resist.

"Ah, there you are, my pretty little prince," Jafar purred, his dark eyes raking over Aladdin's exposed form. "You look so delectable like this – so utterly vulnerable." The humiliation burned within Aladdin, but it only seemed to fuel his inexplicable desire for the man who held such power over him. He wore tight, slutty blue robes that barely concealed his toned frame, leaving much of his flesh exposed for Jafar's greedy gaze. The fabric clung to every curve and dip of his body, as if it were an extension of his own skin. His face was adorned with heavy makeup – dark kohl around his eyes, creating a sultry look, and deep red lipstick that accentuated his full lips. Golden jewelry hung from his ears, neck, and wrists, a testament to his status as Jafar's plaything.

"Tell me, Abubu," Jafar began, his voice dripping with condescension, "do you understand why you're here?"

"Y-yes, Sultan Jafar," Aladdin stammered, struggling to keep his composure in the face of the older man's power. It was undeniable – there was something about Jafar that stirred up a mixture of fear, humiliation, and arousal within him. His mere presence caused the former thief and hero to swoon, knowing he was weaker than him.

"Good. And what is your purpose?" Jafar asked, his eyes boring into Aladdin's soul.

"My purpose is to…serve and satisfy Your Majesty," Abubu whispered, disgusted by the words yet unable to stop them from tumbling out of his mouth.

"Indeed," The Sultan smirked, his hypnotic gaze holding Aladdin captive. "You see, my dear prince, I have no use for a defiant street rat. But a submissive, obedient toy? Oh, that has its uses." Jafar's words seeped into Aladdin's mind, a venomous aphrodisiac that weakened his resolve and ignited a shameful, aching need within him.

"Please, Sultan Jafar," Aladdin murmured, no longer able to resist the magnetic pull of the older man's authority, "allow me to serve you... as you wish."

"Very well, my pretty prince," Jafar replied with a sinister grin. It was clear that the once-proud young man was now nothing more than a carnal plaything, entirely at the mercy of his new master's desires, “You sound so sweet now that I’ve conquered you and made you my pretty little whore," Jafar sneered, his eyes locked onto Abubu's exposed flesh. "So weak and pathetic, just begging to be used."

Abubu lowered his head, his cheeks burning with humiliation. He couldn't fathom why he felt this way, but the power dynamics between them made it impossible for him to resist his new master.

"Good boy," Jafar praised, his tone laced with cruel delight. "Now, show me just how much you want to please your master."

Heart pounding and body trembling, Aladdin crawled across the plush carpet towards Jafar, every movement an act of submissive obedience. The repulsive man before him was older and influential, yet Aladdin's involuntary arousal only seemed to deepen his submission and humiliation. He knew it was wrong, but he could no longer resist the twisted allure of Sultan Jafar.

As Aladdin reached Jafar's feet, he looked up at the man who had taken everything from him, his pupils dilated with a mixture of fear and lust. "Please, Sultan Jafar," he whispered, "use me as you desire. I am yours to command."

"Undress, Abubu," Jafar commanded again, his voice dripping with sadistic glee. "Show your Sultan what belongs to him."

With trembling hands, Aladdin removed his silken blue robes, revealing his smooth, hairless body. He knelt before Jafar, his eyes downcast, and prepared himself for whatever cruel acts the obese ruler had in store for him.

"Such a delicious little prize you are," Jafar purred as he approached the vulnerable young man. "Now tell me, who do you belong to?"

"Y-you, Sultan Jafar," whispered Abubu, his voice choked with shame yet tinged with an inexplicable arousal. "I belong to you...completely."

"Good boy," Jafar smirked, cupping Abubu's face in his rough hand. "Never forget that."

With a small whimper, Aladdin, now transformed into the submissive Prince Abubu, slowly rose to his feet. His once lean and toned body had been altered by Jafar's dark magic, morphing him into a more delicate and feminine figure. His slim waist was cinched by a bejeweled belt, accentuating the curve of his hips beneath his slutty blue robes. The lightweight fabric clung to his smooth, hairless skin, leaving little to the imagination. His once-proud face was painted with thick kohl liner, his full lips stained a deep red. Abubu's wrists jingled with golden bangles, and a delicate chain adorned his narrow waist. Even the way he held himself, hips cocked and shoulders back, screamed submission. It was clear that Jafar had broken him, and now sought to parade his conquest before all…to create a legend out of this fucking boy who now mewled for his Sultan like a whore.

"Turn around, my pet," Jafar ordered, his voice heavy with lecherous intent. Abubu obeyed, feeling both humiliated and strangely aroused by the weight of Jafar's gaze on him. It was as if the power that radiated from the obese ruler was an aphrodisiac, one that his new, slutty mind could not resist. Abubu's sexy, feminine ass stood before his master, knowing that it was being scanned and savored by the fatter, older man. Abubu knew his ass belonged to his master, regardless of how painful the results would be.

"Such a pretty thing you've become, Abubu," Jafar sneered, his eyes raking over the young man's form. "Who would have thought that the street rat who dared to defy me would end up like this? So weak, so eager to please."

As Jafar's words washed over him, Abubu found himself swaying his hips seductively, his body betraying him even as his mind recoiled from the degradation. It was as if he were a puppet on strings, dancing to the tune of Jafar's wicked desires.

"Look at you," Jafar taunted, a cruel smile playing across his lips. "You're nothing more than a plaything now, a pretty bauble for me to use as I please. Tell me, Abubu, how does it feel to be so utterly powerless?"

"Please, Sultan Jafar," Abubu whimpered, his voice laced with humiliation and arousal. "I can't help myself... Your power is too strong."

"Ah, yes," Jafar chuckled darkly, enjoying the slutty wants Abubu’s ass bobbled among his silks and jewels. "You are finally beginning to understand your place in this new world of mine. And as long as you continue to submit to my will, I might just let you keep that pretty little head of yours...just keep moaning…and moving for your master now."

As Abubu continued to dance for his cruel master, a twisted mixture of shame and desire coursed through him, binding him ever more tightly to the man he had once despised. Even as he hated himself for it, he could not deny the allure of Sultan Jafar's power, nor the intoxicating spell it cast upon him. He remembered himself, the horny boy fro the marketplace and all the sexy things the courtesans would do with their bodies to entice men into needing their services. He did them all for Jafar now. In his broken mind, he needed his Sultan to need him.

"Ah, my sweet little Prince Abubu," Jafar sneered, his gaze raking over the feminized form that had once been the street rat Aladdin – the proud young man now reduced to a simpering, submissive plaything. It filled Jafar with a perverse sense of satisfaction, knowing that he had broken this defiant youth down so completely.

"Look at you," Jafar drawled, reaching out to toy with the loose blue fabric that barely covered Abubu's lithe body. "So eager to please your new master. I must say, it's quite a change from the insolent brat who dared to challenge me."

As Jafar continued to speak, Abubu found himself unable to tear his gaze away from the older man's powerful, commanding presence. Every word, every gesture seemed to seep into his mind, eroding his resistance and leaving him weak and pliable in Jafar's hands. Here Jafar was, playing with the thing he conquered. And there Aladdin was, dancing like a bitch, leaning his body into his Sultan, yielding more and more to the stronger man.

"Such a pitiful creature you've become, Abubu. No more insults, schemes or defiance from the Diamond in the fucking Rough" Sultan Jafar sneered, leaning in close enough for Abubu to feel his hot breath against his face. "No, instead here you are, craving my attention like the needy little whore you are, worshiping me like a Sultan is meant to be worshiped by his loyal, mindless dancers."

Now face to face with Sultan Jafar, the pathetic Prince Abubu could smell the strong scent of musk and sweat wafting off of his body, a heady mixture that sent a wave of repulsion and, as much as he didn’t want it, arousal, coursing through him. He looked up at his Sultan with wide, pleading eyes, hating himself for the way his body betrayed him even as he yearned for the touch of the man who had taken everything from him.

"Tell me, slut," Jafar murmured, his fingers teasing at the edge of Abubu's loose harem robes. "How does it feel knowing that I've filled your precious Jasmine with my seed, that soon she'll bear my child and there's nothing you can do about it? Does it make you feel small, weak...emasculated?"

"Please, Sultan Jafar," Abubu whispered, his voice trembling, calling the countless times he had been forced to watch Jafar breed his perfect Princess Jasmine, "I cannot help myself... Your power is too great…I’m so…so weak…"

"Ah, yes," Jafar chuckled darkly, pulling Abubu's robe aside to expose his smooth, supple skin. "You are so eager to please, so desperate for my approval. Soon you shall see my Jasmine swell, carrying for my lineage in her womb, and I’ll need even more attention from my weak, little toys."

Abubu squirmed under Jafar's gaze, feeling the sting of humiliation sear through him. And yet, he couldn't deny the heat that pooled in his lower belly, the way his body seemed to come alive at every touch and taunt. He was trapped in a web of his own making, ensnared by the power he had once sought to wield against the man who now controlled him completely.

"Look at you," Jafar continued, his fingers dancing across Abubu's skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake. "You are mine, body and soul, and there is nothing you can do to escape it. You will serve me in every way I desire – as a plaything, a fucktoy, a pawn for my amusement."

"Please..." Abubu moaned, unable to resist any longer, his dancing becoming grinding on his powerful master. "Sultan Jafar... I need you."

"Of course you do," Jafar replied, a wicked smile twisting his lips. "And I intend to make full use of you, my pretty little toy. After all, I deserve a treat for fucking Jasmine so well last night, don't you think?"

With those words, Jafar claimed Abubu's body once more, tightening his hold over the broken prince and ensuring that he would never again know freedom or dignity. And deep down, Abubu couldn't help but crave the very thing that would destroy him.

"Please, Sultan Jafar," Abubu whimpered, his eyes wide and vulnerable as they locked onto the imposing figure before him. The strong scent of musk and sweat wafting off of Jafar's body was intoxicating, a heady mixture that sent a wave of repulsion and, as much as he didn’t want it, arousal, coursing through Abubu's veins. "Tell me how best to serve you."

"That's right, Abubu. Last night, I fucked your precious Princess Jasmine," Jafar boasted, his voice dripping with cruelty as he reveled in the humiliation etched upon Abubu's face. "She took my seed so willingly, like the obedient little wife she's become. You’ll never know how good her womb feels, and how sexy it is when she calls out your name while taking all of my masculine fury. And now that I've proven myself a true and powerful daddy to her, I think it's only fair that I enjoy a treat from another sexy toy of mine."

"Y-yes, Sultan Jafar," Abubu stammered, his heart pounding in his chest as he fought to control the conflicting emotions that swirled within him. He knew he should be disgusted by Jafar's words, repulsed by the thought of being used like a mere object for the older man's pleasure.

"Kneel, Abubu," Jafar commanded, his voice dripping with authority and lascivious intent. As the submissive Prince Abubu sank to his knees before the overfed Sultan, Jafar couldn't help but admire the work he had done. The young man's body was adorned with sensual curves, draped in seductive blue silk robes that left little to the imagination. His full lips, painted a deep shade of red, were trembling in anticipation as he gazed up at his new master. Beside them, there was a massive mirror.

"Look at you," Jafar purred, circling around Abubu like a predatory cat. "A perfectly sculpted body, ripe for my taking and enjoyment. Your toned arms and legs, your smooth chest... it's all so deliciously tempting. Come, Abubu, look at yourself," Jafar commanded, his voice smooth and sinister as he led the feminized prince to a tall mirror. "See what you have become under my power."

Abubu hesitated, but the pull of Jafar's presence was impossible to resist. He raised his eyes to the mirror, taking in his reflection with a mixture of fascination and revulsion.

"Such a beautiful creature you are, my dear Abubu," Jafar murmured as he cortched down to devore his prize, sliding his hand over the young man's slender waist, relishing the way his body trembled at his touch. "Your soft, supple skin, your plump, inviting lips... all designed to please me."

His fingers trailed lower, lingering on Abubu's rounded hips before coming to rest on the swell of his firm, enticing ass. "And this... this masterpiece of flesh is truly divine. A perfect ass, ripe for the taking by your Sultan, Jafar."

Abubu squirmed under the older man's gaze, feeling exposed and vulnerable despite the layers of silky fabric that adorned his body. He remembered, vaguely, the person he had once been - brave, fearless, defying Jafar at every turn. And yet now, here he was, transformed into a pretty plaything for the very man he had sought to defeat. His ass was sticking out like a prized piece of meat one would find and inspect in the marketplace.

"Y-yes, Sultan Jafar," he whispered, the words tasting like ash on his tongue, yet unable to deny the strange thrill that coursed through him at the sound of his own submission.

"Please, Sultan Jafar," Abubu whimpered, his face burning with humiliation as he pressed his forehead to the floor. "I am yours to use as you see fit. My body belongs to you, and only you."

Jafar reclined on a pile of silk cushions, a sinister smile curling around the edges of his lips as he watched his newest plaything’s ass. It rose in submission to Jafar’s presence, and it would not fall without leave. He could see the mixture of fear and desperate arousal that flickered in the depths of Abubu's spiraling, crimson eyes – a testament to the power of his dark magic.

"Why, that sounds excellent, Abubu, My pet," the Sultan purred, extending a hand towards the young prince. As his fingers curled around Abubu's trembling wrist, he marveled at the smoothness of the skin beneath his touch – skin that now belonged to him, body and soul. With practiced ease, he began to stroke Abubu's little member, reveling in the way the young man shuddered and gasped under his touch. "And I think it’s time you and I enjoy our time alone in my golden, treasure chamber...where only I might hear your screams…"

Abubu couldn't help but whimper at the sensation of Jafar's powerful hand wrapped around his cock, his mind racing with conflicting emotions. Somewhere deep inside, buried beneath layers of submission and obedience, a small part of him still remembered who he had once been – a brave, resourceful young man who had fought against Jafar's tyranny. But that part of him was growing weaker by the moment, smothered beneath the crushing weight of the vizier's hypnotic control.

"Please, Your Majesty," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the pounding of his own heartbeat. "I need You...I need Your touch, Your guidance...Please, let me serve You as only a true harem girl can."

Jafar's smile widened as he listened to Abubu's desperate plea, feeling his own arousal surge at the knowledge that he had completely and utterly broken the once-proud prince. He tightened his grip on Abubu's cock, relishing the sound of the young man's choked moan.

"Very well, My pet," he agreed, his voice heavy with dark promise. "Walk behind me, anf follow to where I shall teach you the true meaning of submission. When I am finished with you, there will be no doubt in your mind – or anyone else's – that you belong to Me, and Me alone."

As Jafar led the quivering Abubu away towards the hidden depths of his private sanctum, the young prince could do nothing but follow, his body and soul now irrevocably bound to the man who had stolen everything from him – including, it seemed, his very heart. The remaining silk and Jewels that clung to his now sweaty body rang in the air, letting the Sultan hear every step Abubu made to his own debasement.

The young man simpered, visions of kneeling before the Sultan and obeying his every whim flitted through his mind. Jafar observed Abubu with a wicked grin, admiring the way the once-defiant street rat had been transformed into a docile, pretty creature in gaudy makeup and wispy blue silk. Jafar knew how to take his revenge.

Abubu felt a shudder of anticipation run through him, torn between the humiliation of his current state and the hypnotic allure of serving his master. With bowed head and quickened breaths, he obediently followed Jafar as he strode through the palace corridors, feeling more like an object than a person.

"Now!" Jafar chuckled darkly, pulling open a massive door and revealing the Royal Treasury. Gold coins, glittering jewels, and priceless artifacts filled the cavernous space, a testament to Agrabah's immense wealth - and now, Jafar's dominion. "It is here, surrounded by the treasures that are rightfully mine, that I shall take you, my precious plaything."

Abubu hesitated for a moment, a flicker of doubt crossing his features before the hypnotic haze quickly reclaimed his mind. "Yes, Sultan Jafar," he whispered, stepping into the treasury alongside his master.

"Behold," Jafar announced as they entered the treasury, "the wealth of Agrabah, mine and mine alone."

"Yours, Master," Abubu whispered, his eyes wide at the sight of the riches before him. Yet, even in the midst of such opulence, all he could think of was his purpose – to serve and please Sultan Jafar, no matter the cost to his dignity or pride.

"Indeed, my pet," Jafar chuckled, tightening his grip on Abubu's delicate wrist. "And you shall bear witness to my conquest, standing by my side as I claim all that is rightfully mine."

The humiliation burned within Abubu, but he couldn't deny the twisted pleasure it brought. He had become a willing accomplice in Jafar's machinations, his mind and body entirely at the mercy of the cunning sorcerer. And though a part of him still screamed for freedom, the allure of submission proved too powerful to resist.

Jafar's eyes roved over Abubu's body, taking in the enticing sight of his once-proud adversary now reduced to a submissive, feminized plaything. The twink slave had been utterly transformed by Jafar's hypnotic power. He could control many of Abubu’s features like his wardrobe, his makeup, hair and diet. But he could not control the way Abubu sweat with need in his presence. He could not make his brown eyes tremble with fear and want. No, Jafar might have conquered the poor boy, as was his right to do, but the need Abubu showed his master was all his…it was given the way any subject must give and yield to their Sultan.

"Kneel before me, my pet," Jafar commanded, his voice dripping with authority. Abubu complied without hesitation, sinking gracefully to his knees on the cold stone floor, surrounded by the dazzling wealth that bore witness to his degradation.

"Look at you," Jafar taunted, circling around the kneeling figure. "Once a brave street rat, now a simpering harem girl, eager to serve her Sultan."

Abubu's cheeks flushed with shame, but his arousal only grew stronger, fueled by the humiliating words of his master and the undeniable power that radiated from him. He could not deny the allure of Sultan Jafar, the man who had taken everything from him and twisted it to his own dark desires.

"Please, Sultan Jafar," Abubu whispered, his voice quivering with need. "Use me as You wish. I am Yours, completely and utterly."

"Very well," Jafar murmured, his eyes gleaming with cruel delight. "Here, amidst my countless treasures, you will know your place as my most prized possession."

Sultan Jafar stood tall, his broad shoulders casting an imposing shadow over the trembling form of Prince Abubu. The Royal Treasury glistened with gold and jewels, a backdrop that shimmered as brilliantly as the hypnotic gleam in Jafar's eyes.

"Behold, my precious prince," Jafar sneered, loosening the sash around his waist. "The instrument of your submission."

With a flourish, he revealed his thick, monstrous cock, already hard and eager for worship. Abubu's eyes widened in disbelief and horror, yet he couldn't deny the shiver of arousal that coursed through him at the sight. It was as if the very essence of Jafar's power had been distilled into this single, commanding presence.

"Whoever has the gold makes the rules," the new Sultan sighed languidly. His giant turban bobbed on his head, his turquoise feather swayed, and his robe danced gently back and forth as he awaited adoration. "Wouldn't you say so, my dear Prince Abubu?"

Prince Abubu looked up with large, intoxicated eyes, their irises spiraling with the crimson magic of ultimate fealty to the new Sultan. He could only mumble his assent, captivated by the mesmerizing force that commanded him.

"Y-yes, Sultan Jafar," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

"Then show me how much you revere your rule-maker," Jafar chuckled darkly.``Kneel lower before me, my pet," Jafar commanded, his voice dripping with authority, “I want to see your ass shake for me as your mouth gives devotion to my cock.”

Without a moment's hesitation, Abubu sank to his knees, his eyes fixed on the floor as he awaited further instruction. He felt the weight of Jafar's gaze upon him, as though the sorcerer were savoring every ounce of his submission.

Unable to resist, Abubu leaned forward, his lips trembling as they brushed against the swollen head of Jafar's cock. The musky scent engulfed him, further clouding his thoughts and filling him with submissive longing.

"Such a good boy," Jafar taunted, gripping Abubu's hair and forcing him to take more of his length. "You were always destined to be at my feet, worshiping your Sultan's power."

Abubu choked and gasped as Jafar's mighty cock filled his mouth, tears streaming down his cheeks. His mind swirled with conflicting emotions – shame at his debasement, regret for the life he once knew, but also a growing need to please the man who now owned him completely.

"Ah, that's it, Prince Abubu," Jafar groaned, reveling in the sensation of his captive's warm, wet mouth. "Your pretty lips were made for this – to serve me, to worship me."

Abubu looked up at Jafar's imposing figure, the dark robes and sinister grin only heightening his fear and arousal. With trembling hands, he reached for Jafar's waistband, slowly lowering it to reveal the thick, erect cock that awaited him without any obstruction. He knew from experience that he would be on this cock for hours, and he wanted it out and comfortable.

"Such a pretty mouth you have, my dear Prince Abubu," Jafar taunted, stroking his member as he gazed down at the trembling youth. "Once, you sought to defy me. To steal what was rightfully mine. But now, you exist solely for my pleasure."

As Abubu took Jafar's cock into his mouth, the taste of the Sultan's arousal filled his senses. It was a bitter reminder of his new reality – one in which he had been reduced to nothing more than a plaything for Jafar's twisted desires.

"Ah, yes," Jafar sighed, his hands gripping Abubu's head as he guided the young man's movements. "You may have once thought yourself a hero, but now you are nothing more than an obedient whore. And how fitting it is that you should serve me in this manner."

Abubu tried to ignore the degrading words, focusing instead on the task at hand. He sought to please his master, using every ounce of skill and experience he possessed to bring Jafar to the brink of ecstasy. And yet, with each thrust of the Sultan's hips, each groan of pleasure that escaped Jafar's lips, Abubu felt his own arousal grow stronger.

"Look at you now, my pet," Jafar sneered, his breath ragged as he neared the edge of release. "A mere shadow of your former self, utterly broken and enthralled by my power. This is where you belong, Prince Abubu – on your knees, serving your true Sultan."

His throat aching and sore, Abubu could only whimper in response, his heart pounding with fear and desire as he submitted to the cruel whims of Sultan Jafar.

"Yem, youm Majemee," the prince replied, his voice wavering as he struggled to comply with Sultan Jafar's command. The pain from the golden staff only served to remind him of how powerless he had become under Jafar's hypnotic control.

"Ah, that's better," Jafar purred, relishing in the sensation of Abubu's warm, soft lips gliding along his throbbing shaft. He could feel the prince's reluctance, the internal battle raging within him, and it only fueled Jafar's desire to dominate him further.

"Tell me, my dear Prince Abubu," Jafar began, a wicked grin spreading across his face, "how does it feel to be so utterly conquered? To have your will broken and your body used for my pleasure?"

Abubu hesitated, his heart pounding and eyes shimmering with unshed tears. He knew he should hate this man, should despise the crude acts he was being forced to perform, but the twisted part of him couldn't help but find a perverse thrill in his submission. It shamed him, yet excited him all at once.

"It... it feels..." he stammered, struggling to find the words. "It feels right, Sultan Jafar."

"Ah, music to my ears," Jafar chuckled darkly, tightening his grip on Abubu's hair and guiding him deeper still. "You see, my sweet prince, power is the ultimate aphrodisiac. The more I take from you, the more you crave my touch."

As if to prove his point, Jafar traced a finger along the curve of Abubu's cheek, forcing the young man to look into his cold, calculating eyes. The crimson glow within them seemed to pulse, drawing Abubu further beneath Jafar's spell.

"Your lips were made for this, Abubu," Jafar taunted, gripping the prince's hair tighter as he thrust deeper into the warm cavern of his mouth. "To be used and abused by your superior. How pathetic you truly are, kneeling here like a common whore."

A choked sob escaped Abubu as those words cut through him like a blade. He knew they were true, and yet, he couldn't stop himself from wanting more. It was as if his mind had been hijacked, his will snuffed out beneath the crushing weight of Jafar's dominance.

"Please, Sultan Jafar," Abubu whimpered around the thick shaft filling his mouth, tears of shame rolling down his cheeks. "Please use me, for I am your loyal servant."

"Did you ever imagine this would be your fate, Prince Abubu?" Jafar taunted, his voice dripping with venomous delight. "Reduced to a pathetic, simpering shell of the man you once were, all because you dared to defy me?" Aladdin's eyes watered as Jafar continued to degrade him, the cruel words adding to the humiliation of his situation.

"Look at you now, Abubu," Jafar sneered, gripping Aladdin's hair tighter as he forced the young man to meet his gaze. "Ever since that first night, in the dungeon as I acted the kind old man, we both knew this would be the fate waiting for you, my Diamond in the Rough, didn’t we?!"

Jafar's laughter echoed through the chamber as he continued to take pleasure from the prince's submission. He reveled in his triumph, knowing that he had not only conquered Agrabah but also its most defiant and captivating young symbol: The brave street rat, the fake Prince Ali, and now his royal whore, Prince Abubu. And he intended to enjoy every moment of it.

"Imagine it, Abubu," Jafar whispered seductively, "all the gold in Agrabah – in the world – at my disposal. I have everything I’ve ever wanted, and the kingdoms of Arabia will just give me more, and more, and more."

Abubu shuddered, his body betraying him as he felt a surge of arousal course through him. The cock was so big, and Abubu yielded to it like such a good little whore

"Good boy," Jafar murmured, a triumphant smile curving his lips as he reveled in the sweet taste of victory. And as they continued their depraved acts deep within the royal treasury, surrounded by the very riches that had sealed their twisted fate, Prince Abubu couldn't help but feel a dark sense of pleasure – and an even darker sense of belonging.

"Such a good little toy," Jafar drawled, running his fingers through Abubu's silky hair. With each touch, he explored Aladdin's transformed body, teasing the delicate skin beneath the thin, blue fabric that barely covered him. His fingertips traced the curve of Abubu's waist, admiring the way it dipped so enticingly before flaring out to the swell of his hips.

"Please, Sultan Jafar," Abubu gasped, unable to contain his need any longer. "Touch me more... I need you."

Jafar smirked at the pathetic whimper that escaped Abubu's lips. He delighted in the power he held over this once proud, defiant street rat, now reduced to a quivering mess before him. The scent of gold and riches filled the air, intoxicating them both as Jafar guided Abubu's hands to his own body. Together, they explored the soft, feminine curves that had replaced the strong lines of Aladdin's former self.

"Y-yes, Sultan," Abubu admitted, his breath hitching as Jafar's fingers grazed his sensitive nipples. "I can't help it... I crave your touch."

"Then beg for it, my sweet whore," Jafar commanded, his voice dripping with sadistic delight.

"Please, Sultan Jafar," Abubu cried out, his desperation mounting with every passing second. "Touch me, use me as you wish. I am nothing but your toy, your slave."

"Is that so?" Jafar smirked, his fingers darting lower to tease the sensitive flesh of Abubu's inner thighs. With slow, deliberate movements, he traced his way up, brushing against the swollen, needy length that strained against the silky fabric of Abubu's harem pants.

"Your body seems to agree," Jafar observed, his touch light and tantalizingly close to where Abubu craved it most. "But I need to hear you say it, my pretty little prince. Beg me for your pleasure."

"Please, Sultan Jafar," Abubu sobbed, his body trembling with need, his ass shaking, as though addicted to something and in need of its fix. "I beg you, as your humble slave and possession, touch me where I ache for you. I am yours to use, to love or destroy, as you see fit."

"Ah, such sweet surrender," Jafar purred, finally granting the desperate prince his wish. His strong, calloused fingers wrapped around Abubu's pulsing arousal, stroking him firmly and skillfully. Each touch sent a jolt of ecstasy coursing through Abubu's veins, driving him deeper into submission, "My precious harem boy," Jafar purred, his voice dripping with sadistic pleasure. "Look at you, so weak and helpless. Completely under my control." He waved his cobra staff, the gemstone eyes glowing crimson as he locked gazes with the entranced prince. "You exist only to serve me, your mighty Sultan."

"Y-yes, Sultan Jafar," Abubu whimpered, feeling his mind spiral further into submission. His body ached for release, but it was not his place to seek pleasure without permission. As if sensing his thoughts, Jafar leaned in close, his hot breath brushing against Abubu's ear.

"Look at this, Abubu," Jafar sneered, slowly revealing his massive cock, the sheer size of it making Abubu’s eyes widen in shock and fear. The hypnotic power that had been weaved into his mind was amplified by the sight of the monstrous member, intensifying his desire to submit.

"Such a glorious cock, Sultan Jafar," Abubu breathed in awe, unable to tear his gaze away from the throbbing length. "I... I am undeserving of your magnificent presence, but I beg you... please, use me as you see fit. Break me and make me yours, forever."

Jafar smirked, pleased with the display of submission from the once-proud young man now kneeling before him. "Very well, my little slave. Present yourself to me."

Abubu turned around, lifting his hips and exposing his virgin hole to the cruel ruler. His heart raced with a mix of terror and excitement as he felt the head of Jafar's cock press against his entrance.

"Please, Sultan Jafar... do as you wish with me. Take me and claim me as your property, marking me as your own. I am nothing more than a toy for your pleasure, my master. Please, Sultan Jafar," Abubu moaned, his slim body trembling as he gazed up at his master with wide, adoring eyes. "Take me, claim me as yours, and let me serve you as the devoted harem girl I long to be."

With a wicked grin, Jafar gripped Abubu's hips tightly and thrust forward, burying himself deep within the trembling boy's ass. Aladdin gasped in pain and pleasure, his body clenching around the invading member as Jafar began to move, pulling out only to slam back in with bruising force.

"Ah, yes! Your tightness is divine," Jafar growled, picking up the pace. "A fitting reward for Agrabah's true ruler."

"O-oh, Sultan!" Abubu moaned, tears streaming down his face from the painful ecstasy that consumed him. "Your cock is... so big, so powerful! I can feel it dominating every part of me, claiming me as yours!"

"Good," Jafar panted, sweat dripping from his brow as he continued to pound into Abubu's willing body. "Remember this feeling, my pet. This is what true power feels like – the ability to take and control whomever you desire."

As Jafar ravished him, Aladdin felt his resistance crumble under the sheer force of the older man's lust and dominance. The pain, the humiliation, the degradation – all of it served only to strengthen Jafar's hold over him, forging a bond that could never be broken. He was no longer a prince, no longer a hero; he had become nothing more than a plaything for the wicked ruler who owned him, body and soul.

"Please, Sultan Jafar," Abubu whimpered, lost in the throes of his own arousal. "Use me, hurt me, make me your whore. All I want is to serve and please you, my master."

"Such sweet words, my pet," Jafar purred, driving even deeper into Abubu's desperate hole. "And trust me, I will use you well. After all, I have only just begun to explore the depths of your submission."

"More... more, Sultan Jafar," Abubu gasped, his voice ragged and choked with lust. The pleasure coursing through him was overwhelming, a relentless tide that threatened to drown him in its depths. And yet, it was not enough - he craved more, needed more, as though his very existence hinged upon the satisfaction of this burning desire.

"Are you sure you can handle it, my pet?" Jafar taunted, his voice dripping with cruel delight as he continued to thrust into Aladdin's quivering body. "You seem to be struggling already."

"Please..." Abubu begged, tears streaming down his cheeks as he struggled to maintain his composure. "I need it. I need your touch, your control... your power."

"Very well," Jafar purred, his eyes narrowing in predatory glee as he began to probe deeper, touching upon places within Abubu that had never before been explored. The sensation was exquisite, a delicate dance of pain and pleasure that left Aladdin writhing in helpless ecstasy.

"Take it, boy. Take my big, Royal cock," Jafar growled, his voice thick with lust as he drove himself deeper still, each thrust pushing Abubu further beyond the boundaries of his own self-control. It was as though Jafar was claiming him inch by agonizing inch, molding him into a perfect instrument of submission through sheer force of will.

"No... no, I can't... it's too much!" Abubu sobbed, his body shaking with the effort of containing his mounting arousal. But even as he spoke the words, he knew they were false - for beneath the tumultuous storm of emotion, there was an undeniable spark of excitement, a perverse thrill that surged through him at the thought of being so utterly overcome.

"Such a pretty little whore you are, my dear Abubu," Jafar cooed, his hypnotic gaze boring into Aladdin's soul as he continued to ravish him. "You were made for this, you know - to be used and owned by a man of true power."

"What... what are you doing to me?" Abubu whispered, his voice barely audible above the cacophony of his own tortured thoughts.

"Merely showing you your place, my pet," Jafar replied, his grin widening as he felt Aladdin's resistance crumbling beneath the weight of his relentless assault. "Now be a good boy and tell me how much you love being my bitch."

"I... I love it, Sultan Jafar," Abubu moaned, the words spilling from his lips like honeyed poison. "Your cock is so big, so powerful... it fills me, breaks me, makes me yours."

In and out, in and out... Sultan Jafar's powerful thrusts showed no signs of stopping, each one driving deeper into the helpless Prince Abubu. The royal chamber echoed with the sound of skin slapping against skin, turbans and robes rustling as the two men moved in tandem.

"Ah, your sweet moans are music to my ears, my dear prince," Jafar taunted, his voice thick with lust and power. Abubu's eyes glowed red under the hypnotic spell, and he could only whimper in response to the humiliating words.

"Please, Sultan, I... I can't take it anymore..." Abubu pleaded, his voice barely a whisper, choked by the gag strapped tightly around his face. Yet deep within him, that shameful arousal continued to grow, fueled by the relentless pounding and degradation.

"Ha! You think you have any say in this matter?" Jafar laughed cruelly, tightening his grip on Abubu's slender hips. "You exist solely for my pleasure now, and I'll use you however I see fit."

"Look at you," Jafar sneered, driving himself deeper into the prince's body with each forceful thrust. "Once a defiant street rat, now reduced to a needy little harem slut. You were always meant for this life, weren't you?"

"Y-yes, Sultan Jafar," Abubu moaned, unable to deny the truth in the cruel words. His once-proud spirit had been shattered and reshaped by the wicked, cunning man who now dominated him in every sense of the word. And despite the repulsion he felt towards his captor, he could not help but crave the humiliating touch that only Jafar could provide, “Your powerful cock…it hurts so bad…but it’s yours…it’s all yours, master!”

"Remember, my pet," Jafar growled, gripping Abubu's hips tightly as he continued his relentless assault. "You belong to me now, and I will use you as I see fit. This is your purpose, your destiny. To serve as my pretty, submissive toy."

A shudder ran through Abubu's body as he tried to process the sinister truth in Jafar's words. How had he become so utterly powerless, so completely at the mercy of this vile man? And why, despite his horror and humiliation, could he not deny the perverse pleasure coursing through his veins?

"Your cock is... so big, Sultan Jafar," Abubu gasped, his voice trembling with both fear and arousal. "I am nothing but your plaything, here to serve and please you."

As Jafar continued his brutal, unrelenting assault, Abubu's mind began to spiral deeper into submission, his thoughts consumed by the overwhelming sensations of pain and pleasure. He could no longer differentiate between them, his body wracked with shudders and moans as he succumbed to his new reality: he was Sultan Jafar's bitch, and there was no escape.

"Such a good boy, Abubu," Jafar whispered huskily, his breath hot against Abubu's ear. "Now, tell me, the man you once called a psychopath, how much you adore my cock."

"More than anything, Sultan," Abubu whimpered, tears streaming down his cheeks as he finally accepted his fate. "I... I live to serve your every desire."

Sultan Jafar continued to rock him back and forth, their bodies nestled within a sea of plush velvet cushions, silk drapes framing their debauched encounter. The air was heavy with the scent of exotic incense and the musky aroma of their mingling bodies. Abubu couldn't deny that he was hopelessly addicted to the sensation of Jafar's thick cock filling him up entirely.

Jafar chuckled darkly, his hips slamming into Abubu's prostate once more. "You see, you pathetic creature? This is what happens when you betray me. Now, tell me about your precious princess...Tell me what she is now." He smirked down at him, his huge cock pulsing in anticipation.

Abubu struggled to speak through the haze of lust. "Princess...Jasmine..." he panted, the name tasting foreign on his tongue. "She...she will never resist you, my Sultan. She longs for your cock."

Jafar froze for a moment before pulling out and slapping Abubu hard across the face, leaving a red mark. "No, no she won't." His voice held a note of satisfaction. "She won't resist me at all."

He roughly turned Abubu onto his stomach and began plowing into him from behind, his beast-like member sliding in and out with ease. The feeling of being filled so completely overwhelmed Abubu, and he buried his face in the pillows to muffle his cries of pleasure. "You see?" Jafar sneered, "You think you can protect her from me?"

Abubu could only nod, his ass clenching around Jafar's thick shaft. "She wants it," he mumbled, "wants your divine cock."

Jafar's hands grasped Abubu's hair harshly again, pulling him back to face him. "Tell me what I did to your little Princess last night?"

Abubu swallowed hard, eyes wide. "You...you fucked her...you made her your whore."

Jafar grinned wickedly. "I did much more than that," he growled, leaning down to whisper in Abubu's ear. "I fucked her with my fingers, wore her down until she was a sobbing mess, begging for the real thing. Then I, her divine ruler reamed that tight little cunt with my cock. I made her cum over and over again until she pleaded for release, her body crying out my name...forgetting yours. And she will do it again, and again, and again."

Abubu whimpered, his body betraying his mind as he began to thrust back onto Jafar's cock, taking him deeper. "She is...yours, my Sultan."

"Yes, she is," Jafar agreed, his hands moving to pinch and twist Abubu's nipples. "And perhaps after I've had her, once I'm finally bored with her and have used up all her beauty I'll sell her off...let her whore herself for my guards and council members. She'll become nothing but a fuck toy for other men, that will show that worthless brat that she should never have crossed me!." He slid one hand between their bodies, rubbing Abubu's prostate roughly. "You should have never tried to cross me, either, twink."

Abubu moaned, his body bucking under Jafar's control. "Fuck me, my Sultan...make me yours."

"That's more like it," Jafar smirked, his other hand finding Abubu's leaking arse. He spread the tight hole, lubing Abubu up with his own seed before slowly pulling out and slamming back in, groaning as he felt that tight heat clench around him once again.

"I am just...a whore to you...my Sultan" Abubu whispered, his voice cracking.

"A whore? Oh, dear boy," Jafar chuckled darkly. "You're my best whore." He pulled back, stroking his length slowly before slamming back into Abubu with enough force to make the older man grunt. "Your ass is made for me, Abu. It was meant to be fucked by my perfect cock."

With a growl, Jafar picked up the pace, rutting into Abubu like an animal. His eyes fluttered closed in pleasure as he felt the tightness grip him, the salty taste of Abubu's sweat and pre-cum mixing on his tongue. He loved how this body responded to him, how readily it accepted him even when it knew it shouldn't. And hearing Abubu beg and moan for more made his thick cock even harder.

"I should have taken you when I first saw you flying in on that magic carpet," Jafar admitted with a lewd grin. "But I had other plans." Another hard thrust sent a quick jolt of pleasure through Abubu, who let out a high-pitched squeal as he clung to the sheets.

"You are my right hand, my rightful cock. When I'm bored, I'll fuck you till you're raw," Jafar promised, his hips slamming into Abubu in a punishing rhythm.

Abubu's body arched into each thrust, his voice hoarse as he begged for more. "Fuck me, Sultan... please, fuck me harder!" His own hands found their way to his staff, stroking it in time with Jafar's violent movements.

"Yes, Jafar," Abubu managed between gasps. "I'm sorry, Jafar."

"Good! Apologize, you stuck up, little brat!" the vizier replied, slapping Abubu's ass cheek hard enough to sting. "Just take it…take it you worthless Street Rat!"

"I... I love it, Sultan Jafar," Abubu whimpered, his voice breathless with desire. "I worship your cock! Fill me up! Fill me with your power!"
With that, Jafar began to pound into Abubu, each stroke driving deeper than the last. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoed throughout the chamber, mixed with Abubu's moans of pleasure and the sultan's grunts of domination. Sweat dripped from their bodies as they moved together, creating a slick surface for the stallion to slide against
Abubu could feel himself on the brink, his balls aching and his ass on fire from the relentless pounding.

The slave screamed out in ecstasy as his orgasm crashed over him, hot cum spurting below them. Jafar kept pumping, his cock too big, and too in control. it wanted more before it came.

"Deeper, my boy," Jafar commanded, as he forced Aladdin's face further into the silk cushions of the opulent bed. The young prince's body trembled, his delicate fingers clutching at the luxurious fabric beneath him, his thighs quivering with each forceful thrust from the older man. Abubu wanted to deny it, to reject the pleasure penetrating his body despite his revulsion. Yet, moans escaped his mouth, exposing the mounting tension within him. Each thrust sent a wave of mixed feelings coursing through him.

"Fuck yes!" Jafar groaned, his voice coarse and commanding. "Take it, boy. Take my big, Royal cock." The words burned in Abubu's ears, reminding him of whom he served. His body convulsed with shame and disgust, yet his heart raced wildly, unable to refute his arousal. It was a strange sensation, one that he couldn't comprehend. How could he possibly become aroused in such a situation? To be whored out by such a ruthless, fattening villain? Yet, there was no denying the pulsing warmth spreading through his veins.

"Please, Sultan Jafar," he whimpered, his voice barely audible amid the sounds of their rutting. The once-proud street rat had been reduced to a quivering mass of desperation, completely at the mercy of the man who had taken everything from him.

"I can't... I...your too big…"

"Silence!" Jafar barked, his grip tightening on Abubu's slender waist. "You'll take what I give you, and you'll beg for more." With that, he drove himself even deeper into the young prince's body, eliciting another choked cry from the trembling youth. Aladdin's once masculine form had been twisted into something incredibly feminine, molded and shaped by Jafar's will until he had become the perfect harem girl, utterly submissive and eager to please.

"Good boy," Jafar purred, as he continued to thrust into the helpless prince. "You see, Abubu? This is what you were always meant for. To be my pretty, little fucktoy."

"Y-yes, Sultan Jafar," Abubu gasped out, tears streaming down his face as he surrendered completely to the man who had broken him. His mind was filled with only one thought: pleasing the powerful sultan who now owned him body and soul.

As they continued to fuck, it became clear that Jafar's cock was breaking his bitch in two. The once-proud Aladdin was now nothing more than a plaything, existing solely for Jafar's pleasure. And as the cruel vizier reveled in his complete control over the former street rat, he used his hypnotic powers to further reinforce Aladdin's role as his submissive harem girl.

"Ah yes, what a good Prince you are. Prince Abubu, docile are you..." the Sultan teased. The prince closed his eyes in deliberate satisfaction, while Sultan Jafar rocked him back and forth, within their plush little nest of silken cushions. With every touch of Jafar's hands on his body, Aladdin felt his resistance wane further, his mind consumed by the need for the powerful man who dominated him.

"Please, don't stop," Aladdin whimpered, hating himself for giving in to the intoxicating pleasure that Jafar's cock provided. But he couldn't help it; the sensations were too intense, too all-consuming to resist.

"Such desperation," Jafar chuckled darkly, his voice rich with triumph. "You're nothing but my cum-addicted-pet now, aren't you?"

"Y-yes, my Sultan," Aladdin admitted, his heart heavy with regret as he succumbed to the truth of his situation. "I am your pet."

"Good," Jafar purred, leaning in to press a possessive kiss against Aladdin's trembling lips. "Remember that, my sweet prince, even when I'm not here to remind you."

The vizier grinned wickedly, loving the way Prince Abubu's asshole clenched tight around his throbbing cock. It was the perfect, tight hole for his massive girth. He pummeled into him without mercy, his hips slapping against the boy's ass cheeks in a rhythmic beat. "That's right, my little Prince," he growled. "Take all of me. Beg for more of my big, powerful cock."

Abubu's breath hitched and his hands gripped the sheets as he arched his back, begging for more of the Sultan's power. "Your...Sultan...Jafar's...cock," he panted. "So...big...so good." With every word, Abubu's voice broke, his body trembled in ecstasy.

The room echoed with the sound of skin slapping against skin and the wet smack of flesh on flesh as Jafar's hips pistoned back and forth. He was too powerful, too irresistible for Abubu to resist. The boy's sultry cries filled the chamber, muffled by the pillow he buried his face into, his nails digging into the soft fabric as he tried to find purchase to pull himself closer to his master.

"Jafar...," he moaned, tasting the salty mixture of sweat and cum on his lips. The man’s scent was intoxicating, filling his senses, clouding his mind with lust. "Oh, Sultan Jafar...I'm yours."

The villain’s hand grasped Abubu's hair roughly, pulling his head back to expose his young, pliant lips. "Say it, Prince," he commanded. "Call me your Sultan."

Abubu's eyes locked onto Jafar's, the hatred in his face replaced by desire. "My Sultan...my beautiful, powerful Sultan," he groaned, unable to break from the hypnotic spell that bound him.

Jafar continued his punishment, relentlessly fucking the young prince. He leaned down and bit at Abubu's neck, drawing blood that trickled down his throat. He growled, "Now, you feel it, don't you? My power coursing through you." He slammed into him harder, his cock hitting Abubu's g-spot with each brutal thrust.

Despite the pain, Abubu felt an almost unbearable pleasure building within him. He couldn't help but squirm under Jafar's touch. Sensations overwhelmed him as he came again, his body shuddering in ecstasy. "Fuck, yes! Fuck me, my Sultan!"

With a final thrust, Jafar filled Aladdin with his seed, marking him as his property. He then withdrew, leaving Aladdin shaking and spent on the pile of cushions. As Jafar dressed himself, Aladdin couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of defeat; he had given in to the very man he had once sought to bring down, and there was no going back.

Finally, Jafar pulled away, leaving Abubu gasping for breath, his body covered in sweat and the remnants of their lustful union. His heart raced with conflicted emotions - disgust at his own submission, yet an undeniable yearning for more of the intense, dark pleasure that Jafar had introduced him to.

"Such a pathetic, needy little thing you've become," Jafar sneered, his eyes taking over Abubu's trembling form. "I suppose I should be pleased with how well you've adapted to your new role."

Abubu hated the way his body betrayed him, responding eagerly to Jafar's touch even as his mind recoiled from the reality of his situation. He couldn't help but wonder: was this really who he was meant to be? A helpless plaything, bound to serve at the whims of a cruel master?

"Please, Sultan," Abubu whispered, his voice cracking with desperation. "I... I can't take any more..I’m so...so broken…"

"Ah, but I think you can," Jafar replied, a sinister smile playing upon his lips. "And you will. You have no choice, after all."

"Look at you, my pretty little Abubu," Jafar sneered as he circled the trembling figure before him. Aladdin—no, Abubu—tried to hold back the tears that welled up in his eyes. He could still feel the lingering ache within him, a twisted testament to Jafar's invasive dominance. "You are nothing without me. Remember that."

"Yes, Sultan," Abubu whimpered, his voice barely audible.

"Speak up, boy. Show me the reverence I deserve," Jafar demanded, his eyes narrowing with predatory glee.

"Yes, Sultan," Abubu repeated, louder this time, his cheeks flushed with shame. "I am nothing without you."

"Ah, my sweet Prince Abubu," Jafar sneered, his voice dripping with cruel satisfaction. He towered over the trembling figure of Aladdin, who was still sprawled across the plush cushions, his body slick with sweat and traces of Jafar's seed. "You're finally starting to understand your place, aren't you? Beneath me, where you belong."

Aladdin couldn't help the flush that crept up his cheeks at the humiliating reminder of his submission. His mind recoiled from the truth but simultaneously craved the dark allure of being under Jafar's control. The twisted desire within him warred against his innate sense of pride and defiance.

"Y-yes, Sultan Jafar," he choked out, unable to meet the older man's gaze.

"Look at me when you speak, pet," Jafar commanded sharply, reaching down to grip Aladdin's chin and force their eyes to meet.

Aladdin's heart pounded in his chest, a confusing mix of fear and arousal coursing through him as he stared into Jafar's hypnotic eyes. The power dynamic between them was painfully clear, and Aladdin knew he had no choice but to submit to the will of his new master.

"Remember this feeling, Abubu," Jafar whispered, his breath hot against Aladdin's ear. "This is what it means to serve Sultan Jafar – to give yourself over completely, body and soul. And never forget that I am the one who holds the key to your desires."

With that, Jafar released Aladdin's chin, leaving him gasping for air. The lingering touch of the older man seemed to burn into his skin, branding him with the knowledge of his submission.

"Go now, pet," Jafar ordered dismissively, already turning his attention to other matters. "Clean yourself up and make yourself presentable. I have no use for a sullied plaything."

Aladdin swallowed hard, his body aching from the brutal treatment he had endured. As he struggled to rise from the cushions, he couldn't help but feel a renewed sense of despair at his situation.

"Your Sultan has much to do," Jafar added, eyeing Aladdin coldly. "And in an hour, I will be upstairs, enjoying the tender embrace of my lovely Jasmine. She is quite eager to submit and breed for her rightful master."

The mention of Jasmine sent a fresh wave of shame and jealousy crashing through Aladdin, but there was nothing he could do. He was no longer the brave and daring hero who had once won her heart – he was now simply Prince Abubu, the submissive plaything of the cruel and powerful Sultan Jafar.

"Go now, my little toy," Jafar purred. "Crawl back to your gilded cage and remember who owns you."

Aladdin, or rather, Prince Abubu, as he was now known, crawled away from Jafar, his heart heavy with a mixture of shame and unwilling desire. As he moved across the plush carpet on his hands and knees, his feminine blue robes rustled softly, exposing the smooth curve of his ass to the Sultan's greedy eyes. The humiliating position only served to reinforce the power dynamics between them, reminding Abubu that he was nothing more than a plaything for Jafar's amusement.

As Jafar watched Abubu crawl away from him on all fours, the view of his perfectly round and supple ass clad in those delicate blue silk panties sent a shiver of dark pleasure down Jafar's spine. The swaying of his hips, the soft jingling of the golden jewelry draped over his feminized form – it was a sight to behold, a testament to Jafar's power and control.

"Such a pretty sight," Jafar purred, admiring the view of Abubu's exposed body. "That ass is truly a work of art, my pet. It's no wonder I can't resist taking it again and again."

The humiliating words cut deep, triggering a fresh wave of humiliation within Abubu. He couldn't help but squirm under the weight of Jafar's gaze, instinctively trying to cover himself, even though he knew it was futile. A small part of him still raged against this degrading treatment, but it was swiftly being drowned out by the seductive allure of Jafar's hypnotic power.

Abubu whimpered at the humiliating words but didn't dare to disobey. He continued to crawl, his eyes downcast, feeling the weight of Jafar's gaze on his body. The sensation of his cock growing hard again, fueled by his submission to Jafar, was both shameful and unavoidable. In the depths of his mind, he knew that he had been transformed into nothing more than an object for Jafar's twisted desires.

He could smell Jafar's divine cock straining against the luxurious fabric of his white robes, eager to exert its dominance over him once more. The powerful man clearly had no qualms about taking whatever he wanted – whether it be control over an entire city or the body of a young prince who had once defied him. And each time he did so, his grip on their minds and bodies only grew stronger.

As Abubu continued to crawl away, Jafar reclined on his luxurious throne, his eyes never leaving the delectable sight before him. His thoughts turned to Jasmine, and how he would soon be enjoying her submission as well – breeding her into willing submission just as he had done with Abubu.

"Ah, the joys of power," he mused to himself, feeling his arousal growing stronger by the second. "And once I've taken everything I desire, none will dare defy me again."

With that thought, Sultan Jafar's laughter echoed through the chambers, a triumphant sound that sent chills down Abubu's spine.

Chapter Text

Jasmine awoke, her body aching and throbbing with the memory of last night. The lavish Bed chambers of Sultan Jafar surrounded her, an ostentatious reminder of his control. Fear gripped her, mingling with a self-hatred that was only intensified by the shameful lust she felt. Broken sobs escaped her lips as she recalled how thoroughly she had been used by her new Sultan.

Slowly, Jasmine rose, her incredibly sexy body on full display. Her smooth, tanned skin seemed to glow in the dim light, the curve of her hips accentuated by the thin, silken fabric that barely clung to her frame. Her full breasts heaved with each breath, while her firm, perfect ass swayed with every movement. She was the epitome of beauty and sensuality, a goddess among mortals.

"Ugh..." Jasmine groaned, her thoughts racing back to the man who had taken her so completely. Jafar, once nothing more than a rank social climber and cruel opportunist, now held her captive – both physically and mentally. Worse still, Jafar was using less and less hypnosis as of late, making her feel every moment without the haze of his red powers. When he took her, and he took her so often, he wanted to see the old Jasmine, the defiant and fierce Jasmine…Slowly get fucked away. She still responded to his every base command in bed, but she could remember how it used to be before, how she once threatened to banish and behead the man she now debased herself for, and she realized that something had gone very, very wrong.

She hated him deeply every morning after their fuck-fests, but there was no denying the perverse arousal she felt at the mere thought of his touch. Her delicate hand slid down her body, fingers brushing against her wetness as she remembered the feel of his cock inside her, hating herself for smelling him and his seed all over her soft, desirable body. His cock was sooo big…it took whatever he wanted from her now…

"Stop it," she whispered harshly to herself, trying to regain control over her traitorous body. "You need to escape, not fall deeper into his grasp."

But how could she escape when Jafar's hypnotic abilities and political influence seemed to be growing stronger by the day? The guards were his. His father and his other advisors seemed so eager to obey any cruel command Jafar gave. The common people, though they were losing their rights and their future, seemed to yearn for their new Sultan’s strengths. She shuddered, knowing that as long as he maintained his hold over her mind, her body would remain his plaything.

"Jasmine," Jafar's voice echoed through the chamber, dark and sinister. "How delightful to see you awake."

Her heart raced, fear and arousal swirling together as she turned to face him. His grin was predatory, his eyes filled with a lustful hunger that sent a shiver down her spine.

"Your body is so responsive, my dear Jasmine," he purred. "I do enjoy watching you squirm."

"Please…please, just once…just stay away from me," she spat, taking a shaky step back in the covers they ruined the night before. But deep down, she couldn't deny the twisted part of her that craved his touch, his power, and his control over her.

"Ah, but where would be the fun in that?" Jafar chuckled darkly. "You are mine, Jasmine. My wife, so eager to perform all her duties for her divine husband. And I fully intend to enjoy every inch of your delectable body, as only a true Sultan can."

The pain of it all made her pass out once again. Her husband was gone. He had his fun taunting her, reminding her that he conquered her and everything she held dear. As he would again, night after night.

"Maybe...maybe the bathhouse can wash away these feelings," Jasmine thought, heading towards the sanctuary of warm water and fragrant steam. As her delicate feet carried her down the opulent corridors, tired, sore and used, she couldn't help but imagine the weight of Jafar's gaze upon her, assessing and dominating her every move.

***

Jasmine's breath hitched as she entered the Royal bathing chambers, her heart pounding with a mix of fear and anticipation. The air was thick with steam, and the scent of exotic oils hung heavily in the air. She knew she had only a few hours to cleanse herself and prepare for Jafar's return, but the memory of his touch still lingered on her skin, making her shiver with both disgust…and something darker.

As she stepped further into the bathhouse, before she got her first bit of relief from the hot water, before she had a moment of privacy that was never afforded to her anywhere else in Jafar’s palace…she caught sight of Sultan Jafar emerging from the water, surrounded by a group of adoring slaves who eagerly toweled off his thin body. Three exquisite women, their bodies a symphony of curves and softness, were draped all over Jafar's towering form. Their breathy moans echoed in the steamy chamber as they meticulously attended to every inch of their Sultan's body.

Their delicate fingers traced the sinewy muscles of his back, lathering him with fragrant soaps that made his skin glisten under the dim light. They worshipped his strength, their hands trembling with devotion as they massaged the tension from his broad shoulders.

The women's eyes sparkled with adoration as they washed lower, their fingertips grazing the firm globes of his buttocks before venturing further down to caress his well-endowed manhood. They treated it with reverence, their touch gentle yet firm as they bathed it until it throbbed with arousal.

One by one, they dried him off with plush towels, pressing their bodies against his naked form in an intimate dance of servitude. The air was thick with desire and submission as they devoted themselves to satisfying every need of their tall, virile master.

Beneath the towering figures, immersed in the tainted bath of his master, was the lithe form of Prince Abubu. His attire was a scandalous display of femininity, draping over his shape in a manner that left little to the imagination. Jasmine's gaze widened as she took in the sight, her mind reeling at how such a sadistic man could inspire such loyalty from a boy once so independent. Even Aladdin, now Abubu, once so regal and defiant, seemed utterly entranced by Jafar.

Abubu's lips were locked around Jafar's impressive manhood with an almost religious fervor. His eyes were glazed over with an unnatural obedience as he serviced his master with a dedication that bordered on obsession. The sight of this pretty boy she had once loved reduced to nothing more than a pleasure slave sent shivers of shame down Jasmine’s spine.

Her heart pounded painfully against her chest as she watched him submit completely to Jafar's control, each lick and suck emphasizing his utter servitude. The memory of their past love only served to heighten her shame, making her feel weak and helpless in the face of this perverse spectacle. Worst still, she thought as Abubu’s firm ass bounced out of the water with each obedient thrust, Jasmine realized that this is how she must look serving Jafar, each and every night.

"Ah, Jasmine," Jafar's voice was a low purr, his gaze barely shifting from the slaves that fawned over him. "I trust you've come to prepare for our next rendezvous? Making yourself fresh so your Sultan gets more of your supple flesh…" His words were laced with a sinister amusement.

Jasmine's hands tightened into fists at her sides, her teeth clenching to hold back a biting response. She despised the way he made her feel insignificant, how her body seemed to respond to him despite herself. It felt as though he'd spun his dark sorcery around her very essence, pulling her towards him even as she struggled against it.

"Indeed, my Sultan," she murmured, loathing the quiver in her own voice. Jafar merely smirked in reply and redirected his attention back to the slaves who competed for his favor. A casual flick of his wrist produced a sharp smack against Abubu's rear end; the slave who once adored Jasmine let out a gasp that intertwined pain and pleasure.

"And Abubu," Jafar crooned, leaning closer to whisper into Jasmine's ear, "has such an exquisite mouth." His eyes glinted with cruel delight as he glanced back at Abubu. "He provides relief like none other…well, none other than my lawful wife when she’s on fire for me."

Jafar's words slithered down Jasmine's spine, each syllable a cold shudder. Her heart throbbed in her chest, a captive bird desperate to escape, yet she remained motionless; too spent to fight or resist his sinister whims. Bound by laws that demanded she wait until the Sultan and master of Agrabah had sated his desires in the pools before she, his lowly wife could bath.

"Oh how I enjoy this fucking mouth, Jasmine," Jafar drawled on, his voice oozing with perverse pleasure. "As Sultan, I demand constant... gratification." His gaze raked over Abubu once more before swiveling back to Jasmine, an insufferable smirk twisting his lips, “He’ll please me, relieve me, so that I can come back to my lawful wife and take what a true Sultan deserves.“

The three other slaves - their bodies glistening with sweat and eyes wide with anticipation - watched as Jafar continued to exert dominance over their former companion. Each held their breaths as if in silent prayer to Jafar's potency; they were all too familiar with the fact that whatever Sultan Jafar craved, he attained.

"Mmm…Exquisite," he purred like a satisfied cat. "Come here, ladies. I wish for this boy-whore to witness you drape me in my white robes." The silk fabric sliding onto his skin was almost an erotic dance itself; the way it clung onto every curve of his muscular body made them squirm in near orgasmic bliss just at the sight of it.

"My slaves always become so much more compliant when they're green-eyed as I lavish my royal attention elsewhere," he gloated. His statement sent a wave of arousal through them all. It was almost unbearable how even the mere suggestion of him playing with them brought them on the brink of ecstasy.

"I bet little Abubu will be pleading for me to take him, to break him, once he sees me fully dressed as Sultan." His words hung heavy in the air, painting vivid images that left everyone present aching with desire.

With that, he sauntered out of the bathhouse, leaving behind a towel that had been draped over his bony shoulders. He was in total control. He would walk back to his quarters naked, his hardened cock bouncing in total defiance of decency, knowing it would make his slaves hunger to give him more. As the slaves gasped at the sight of his retreating form and the massive cock that hung between his legs, Jasmine couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of arousal mixed with her revulsion. He had won. He wanted it all, and it all belonged to her now.

Jasmine wanted to feel the warm water taker her pain away. She really did. but then She saw it. The towel…the towel her cruel and perverse master had around his…

Jasmine wavered, her breath catching in a strangled gasp as her trembling fingers hovered over the towel. It was a degrading act, propelled by an insatiable craving she found herself unable to quell. The cloth clenched in her hand, she breathed in Jafar's scent and let her eyes slide shut. His musk weakened her resolve, stirring within her a potent lust that left her shaking. The lingering aroma served as a haunting reminder of Jafar's omnipresence, the man who had ruthlessly claimed dominance over her.

Even though she yearned for a brief escape from his tyrannical grip, she was magnetically drawn to the discarded garment, like a hapless insect ensnared by an all-consuming blaze.

"Please," she murmured to herself, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her heart. Her hand shook as it extended towards the cloth. "Don't let me sink this low."

But any semblance of resistance crumbled under the weight of her perverse desires as she seized hold of the towel, pressing it against her lips. Jafar's musk invaded every sense, sending tremors of arousal coursing down to the pit of her stomach. She found herself tasting him on the fabric, each lick sending jolts through her body - a body that convulsed with shameful pleasure at this pathetic indulgence.

"Curse you, Jafar," Jasmine thought bitterly as tears traced hot paths down her cheeks while succumbing entirely to this debauched desire. "How can you…how can you do this? I’m so…so…"

As she continued to pleasure herself, Jasmine knew that she was playing right into Jafar's hands. But even though she recognized the trap he had set for her, she could not resist the dark allure of his bewitching power. In the depths of her despair, she wondered if there was any hope left for her escape—or if she was doomed to spend the rest of her days as the willing puppet of the cruel and heartless Sultan Jafar.

Jasmine's fingers moved deftly along her curves, her body writhing against Jafar's discarded, disgusting rags. Each stroke of her fingertips brought a mix of pleasure and shame, but she couldn't stop herself from the humiliating act.

"Ugh, Sultan Jafar," she moaned, her voice barely above a whisper. "This is so wrong... but I can't help myself."

Her mind raced with thoughts of how much control Jafar had over her, how he had turned her into his plaything despite her initial resistance. She felt an inexplicable craving for his touch, even as she knew that it was a product of his twisted manipulation.

"Your power over me is... is intoxicating," Jasmine admitted, her breath hitching as her arousal grew. "I despise you, yet my body craves you..."

As Jasmine continued to pleasure herself, she became lost in her own debasement, unable to resist the dark allure Jafar held over her.

"Aw, poor little princess," a mocking voice called out, causing Jasmine to jolt in surprise. She looked up and saw Dahlia, her former servant, now Vezier to Jafar on matters of the palace, standing in the entrance of the bath chamber. Gone were the modest robes Dahlia once wore, replaced by tight, red garments that left little to the imagination. Jasmine couldn't tear her eyes away from Dahlia's massive breasts, spilling over the top of her outfit, and the way her lush hips swayed as she sauntered toward Jasmine.

"Look at you, so desperate for our Sultan's touch," Dahlia teased, a cruel smile playing on her lips. "Did you know, before he took the throne, Jafar used to steal your undergarments? He would have me sneak them to him, so he could sniff their delicate scent and pleasure himself."

Jasmine's cheeks burned with humiliation, her fingers digging into the damp towel. She couldn't bear to hear more, but some perverse curiosity kept her silent, listening as Dahlia continued to recount Jafar's twisted desires.

"Once, I brought him a pair of your silk panties, still warm from your body," Dahlia said, her voice low and sultry. "He inhaled their fragrance and moaned your name, wishing he could taste your sweet nectar…I guess out master’s wish came true."

Dahlia's words stoked the embers of Jasmine's arousal, her body betraying her as it responded to the sordid tale. She hated the way her heart raced and her breath hitched, yet she couldn't escape the truth: Jafar had ensnared her, mind and body.

"Look at you now," Dahlia taunted, her eyes glittering with malicious amusement. "Once so proud and defiant, reduced to debasing yourself for the man who used to worship you from afar."

Jasmine's face burned with shame.

Dahlia's eyes narrowed, her voice dripping with contempt as she continued her speech. "You know, Princess, even in my mesmerized state I thought it was pathetic how obsessed Sultan Jafar used to be with your body. He would spend hours dreaming of the day he could finally claim you, jerking his big cock, making us lowborn servants jerk him off as he whined about you." Dahlia hesitated, her breath hitching in her chest, causing the swell of her bosom to rise and fall in an alluring rhythm. There was a glimmer of something dark and tantalizing in her gaze. It wasn't just arousal - it was satisfaction, a twisted delight that she found herself basking in, "But who could blame him? After all, he has managed to take what no other man could: the heart and body of the beautiful Princess Jasmine."

Jasmine felt a sob well up in her throat, but she refused to let it escape. She wouldn't give Dahlia the satisfaction of seeing her break. Jasmine trembled at Dahlia's insults, emotions raging within her like a storm. Anger, humiliation, and a perverse sense of pride warred inside her, but most of all, there was an undeniable arousal coursing through her veins. The thought of being so wholly desired by the cruel, powerful man who now ruled over her brought forth a shameful hunger she couldn't contain.

They were friends, yes, but now...now things were different. The tables had turned so deliciously in her masters favor, and she saw Jasmine brought low. Whether it was born from her own suppressed desires or cleverly implanted by Jafar's manipulative conditioning didn't matter; Dahlia reveled in this newfound power dynamic.

Princess Jasmine, once regal and untouchable, was now nothing more than a plaything for their master - a mere whore under his control. And Dahlia? She was no longer just 'Jasmine's friend'. She held influence; she held sway over Jasmine's fate. Her master wanted her to slowly betray Jasmine, to make her obey him without all the hypnonsis, to give herself willingly. Dahlia had hit that point, and a wicked smile tugged at the corners of Dahlia's lips as she watched Jasmine obey their master's commands with vacant eyes and flushed cheeks - knowing that soon the beautiful, used girl would break, just like any common girl would.

Dahlia stepped closer, her red garments clinging to her voluptuous form as she leaned in to whisper in Jasmine's ear. "You used to hold yourself so high above him, but now look at you, Princess. You're just another one of his playthings, eager to offer up every inch of your body for his pleasure."

"Please..." Jasmine whimpered, her voice barely audible as tears welled in her eyes. The weight of her newfound desires threatened to crush her spirit entirely, and she found herself desperate for some semblance of guidance in this twisted reality.

"Please what, Princess?" Dahlia asked, a wicked grin spreading across her face as she watched Jasmine's resolve crumble.

"Help me," Jasmine's words emerged as a whisper, her voice quivering with suppressed emotion. The plea hung in the air, a desperate cry from an old friend who had been lost to the Sultan's dark desires. Her eyes, wide and pleading, found Dahlia - once a loyal confidante, now a sultry servant of the Sultan's sinister intentions.

Dahlia was different now; her demeanor was harsher, more assertive. She reveled in her new role as the Sultan's plaything. Jasmine couldn't help but notice the way Dahlia flaunted her voluptuous figure, those ample breasts that must surely command her husband's attention on the occasionaly Arabian Night. And yet, there was no hint of reluctance or coercion in Dahlia’s actions. She seemed to bask in it all - waking up each morning with a satisfied smile on her lips, content that their tyrant of a Sultan took his pleasure as he pleased and kept their kingdom under his thumb.

Jasmine felt herself teetering on the edge of despair and desire. The scent of Jafar’s musk still lingered in her senses even as it faded from reality; replaced by the humid steam rising from the waters around them. It clung to her skin like an intimate caress making beads of sweat trickle down her supple body.

Dahlia observed, her gaze filled with a covetous pleasure, as Jasmine battled against her own desires. The sight of Jasmine's flawless body, the one Dahlia had always coveted, now exposed and vulnerable was intoxicating. Fear and an uncontrollable passion warred within Jasmine, leaving her torn and confused.

The spectacle of Jasmine's disarray was a delicious thrill to Dahlia. Each crack in her friend's composure sent shivers of delight rippling through her. Seeing Jasmine, usually so composed and perfect, now a plaything for her former servant's powerful manipulation added a new dimension to Dahlia's satisfaction. Her envy of Jasmine's physical perfection was tempered by the perverse joy she found in seeing her friend so erotically ensnared by their shared tormentor.

"Help me…become the kind of slut that Sultan Jafar will never…tire of using."

Dahlia laughed, a cruel and mocking sound that echoed throughout the chamber. "You want to be an even better toy for our master, do you?" She took a step back, eyeing Jasmine with a predatory gaze. "Beg me, Princess. Beg me to teach you how to please him."

"Please, Dahlia," Jasmine pleaded, the words barely more than a sob. "I need to be…better for him. I hate him, but I can't stand the thought of him growing tired of me, casting me aside...he has so many slaves" Jasmine looked up, defeated, unnable to look at Dahlia’s eyes, so perfect were those massive tits that teased her.

"Keep begging," Dahlia commanded, her voice cold and merciless as she reveled in Jasmine's abject humiliation. "Prove to me just how desperate you are to be his perfect little slut."

Jasmine's face burned with shame, but she couldn't deny the fire that Dahlia's words ignited within her. Dahlia, who used to be her closest friend, chose Jafar. Jasmine knew deep down Dahlia probably didn’t have a choice. But being so debased by Jafar’s mere towel, her waking mind was starting to feel what her mesmerized one had always known…Jafar’s powers, his scent, were too powerful to resist.

Jasmine's voice trembled with desperation and desire, her words broken by soft, needy moans. "Dahlia," she whimpered, her plea laced with a raw vulnerability that made the air heavy between them. "Teach me... teach me to be a better whore for my husband."

Her breath hitched as she continued, the words spilling out in a rush of heated confession.

"I want to know how to arouse him... how to make him burn for me even before he craves my body. Look at me. I’m so eager for him I’m…I’m leaking just from stroking his towel. Teach me how to pleasure him. I’ll give you anything, just help me fuck our Sultan better and better!"

The admission was both pitiful and tantalizing, an echo of surrender in its purest form. Dahlia's hand rose high above her head, the air crackling with anticipation before it descended with a thunderous clap against Jasmine's exposed backside. The sound of skin meeting skin reverberated through the room, creating an intimate symphony of domination.

Jasmine winced as the sting radiated across her tender flesh, her cheeks blooming into a vivid scarlet from both the physical torment and the mortification that accompanied it. Her body twitched involuntarily under Dahlia’s punishing hand; every smack sending shivers down her spine that were equal parts pain and perverse pleasure.

Dahlia reveled in this newfound power over Jasmine's body, a wicked grin spreading across her face as she watched the once untouchable princess writhe beneath her touch. Years of being used by Jafar in secret had honed Dahlia’s skills in delivering pleasure laced with pain. She found a dark satisfaction knowing that she was finally able to degrade the sultry princess who always got whatever she desired without lifting a finger.

Her hand landed again on Jasmine’s ass, leaving another stinging imprint on her flawless skin. Each slap was a tangible reminder of their reversed roles – Dahlia was no longer just a servant but now held dominion over Jasmine's body and mind. They were both Jafar’s slaves, but Dahlia was a lowborn servant who her master had given power, influence, and at many times the cock of the most powerful man of the world. Jasmine was supposed to rule over Arabia, but now she was a whore, pinning for his husband, desperate to open her holes, and fuck him better than his countless others could.

The heat from Jasmine's reddening flesh seeped into Dahlia’s palm, fueling her desire to further debauch the princess. A low moan escaped from Jasmine - a testament to Dahlia's prowess and an affirmation of their twisted game. This was not just punishment; it was an erotic dance between two women bound by power and lust.

"Such a pathetic little thing you've become," Dahlia sneered, her eyes gleaming with cruel delight. "But there's still so much more for you to learn, my dear."

Jasmine's heart raced, fear mingling with the shameful arousal that thrummed within her. She couldn't bear the thought of what further debasement might await her, but at the same time, the allure of pleasing her master was an intoxicating pull she couldn't resist.

"Tonight," Dahlia murmured, her voice a smoky whisper, "you will serve our Sultan in a way that only an unattainable Princess can. You will give him the gift of your helplessness and naughtiness." Jasmine's eyes grew wide with shock, her breath hitching at the unthinkable proposition. The idea was abhorrent, yet she couldn't ignore the electric pulse of desire that surged within her at the thought of such debasement, “Tonight, you will act like a little girl for him in bed. Call him your daddy, tell him you were bad…and ask your daddy to make you a good girl.“

"Is... is that what he desires?" she asked, her voice barely audible above a hushed murmur, “That’s so…so disturbing…“

"Does it matter?" responded Dahlia, a devilish grin twisting her lips. "Your role is to satisfy him, by any means possible. Furthermore," - she drew closer, her warm breath tickling Jasmine's ear - "I am certain that deep down inside, it's what you crave too."

The notion of contradicting Dahlia's assertion was a powerful urge within Jasmine; she craved to stop the man that took everything from her. She really did deep down. But her voice was strangled silent as her gaze fell upon Jafar's cast-off towel, lying nearby. The masculine musk that clung stubbornly to the fabric wafted towards her, and with trembling fingers, she gingerly lifted the towel, inhaling deeply of his intoxicating scent. His aroma filled her senses, overwhelming and compelling.

"So be it," she murmured into the quiet room. She would transform herself into Jafar’s wicked wife; ensnared by his scent; drunk on his aura and irresistibly lured by his potent allure just as he had once been entranced by her elusive charm when he was merely her father’s unassuming vizier.

Then a new thought crept in - an idea both terrifying and thrilling. She would offer him an unexpected gift during their night of passion: a twisted daddy-daughter experience. The thought made her feel vulnerable yet naughty at the same time, adding another layer to their already complex power dynamics.

"I will do it... for my Sultan," she affirmed softly. She would willingly play this taboo game, making herself even more enticing for him while bolstering his sense of power and control over her. This act would not only satisfy his dark desires but proved to him that she could be naughty, and fun, and evil too.

Dahlia's laugh rang out once more, dark and triumphant, as Jasmine clutched the towel to her chest, her resolve shattered by the power of her master's scent. And as the princess prepared herself for the degrading ordeal that awaited her, ready to take any and every suggstion Dahlia gave her, she could not escape the terrible truth: she deserved this. To be debased. To be punnished. To be completely and utterly under Jafar's control.

“But first, I need to get you changed and ready“ Dahlia chuckled, “I know the only thing in your pretty little head is our Sultan’s cock…how big and massive it is…but he still made you a Sultanna. And you have duties to attend to soon. The women of court are waiting for you, so lets get you washed, fed, and ready for them.“

****

In the lavish chambers of Jafar's court, by the gardens, Jasmine glides gracefully among the Highborn women, her every movement a dance of elegance and precision. Envy and jealousy hang heavy in the air, swirling in whispered tones that follow her like a haunting melody.

The old and well respected Lady Aaliyah, her voice as melodious as the wind through desert palms, approached fair Jasmine with a delicate grace that spoke of generations of refined etiquette. With a subtle dip of her body, she greeted Jasmine, the crowned wife of their new, vigorous Sultan, "Behold, fair Jasmine," in a tone that carried the weight of ancient traditions and unspoken secrets. Zaynab, her eyes alight with mischief and intrigue, joined the exchange seamlessly, her words weaving a tapestry of flattery and admiration around Jasmine, "Truly a vision of grace and elegance, dear Jasmine. Your radiance outshines even the brightest stars that adorn our Arabian nights."

In their secluded alcove at the tea party—a sanctuary where veiled women gathered to discuss matters forbidden in the presence of their husbands—the air was filled with the heady scent of jasmine blossoms mingling with the aroma of spiced tea. The delicate clinking of porcelain cups served as a backdrop to their conversation, each sip a prelude to whispered confidences and knowing glances exchanged behind silk veils.

Jasmine, clad in an elegant Arabian dress that hugged her curves and made her look radiant, exuded an air of regal matriarchy despite the undercurrents of tension that wove through their gathering like hidden currents in an oasis stream. She acknowledged her companions with a serene smile, her composed facade belying the intricate complexities simmering beneath the surface.

"Thank you, my esteemed ladies," she replied graciously, her words carrying the weight of centuries-old customs and unspoken alliances. "Your flattery humbles me and graces this humble gathering with your esteemed presence."

As they lingered over fragrant teas and sweet pastries intricately crafted by skilled hands from recipes passed down through generations, their voices rose and fell in a symphony of feminine camaraderie. Behind fluttering fans and coy smiles lay conversations that danced on the edge of propriety—tales of forbidden desires whispered in hushed tones amidst laughter that sparkled like desert stars against an indigo sky.

In this haven where tradition intertwined with modernity, where veils concealed more than just faces and where teacups held not just brew but also shared secrets, fair Jasmine presided over her domain like a queen holding court among loyal subjects bound by ties stronger than blood.

And so it was in this timeless ritual of Arabian women's gatherings—a tapestry woven with threads of tradition, intrigue, and sisterhood—that fair Jasmine reigned supreme amidst whispers carried on scented breezes and laughter that echoed like music in a hidden garden.

As they exchange pleasantries on the surface, beneath their polished words lies an unspoken truth – a whispered rumor of how Jasmine has become Jafar's secret consort, than bride. The women's gazes betray a mix of envy and curiosity as they continue to honor her outwardly while harboring their own suspicions about the true nature of Jasmine's relationship with the powerful vizier.

Unbeknownst to the others, there lingers a darker tale behind Jasmine's composed demeanor. Once young and vibrant, she had despised Jafar for his wicked ways. Yet now whispers circulate amongst the Fabulous Flowers that Jafar has twisted her will to his own desires. They say he ravishes her each night in ways unimaginable before, turning her from a spirited rival into his submissive plaything.

Despite this scandalous undercurrent running through their interactions, Jasmine plays her part flawlessly in courtly fashion. Her voice carries no tremor as she maintains decorum among the women who both admire and suspect her newfound closeness to the nefarious Jafar. Deep inside, Jasmine harbors a shameful secret, knowing she has given Jafar everything he desired from her alluring, youthful form, succumbing to his manipulative allure as he once served humbly as an advisor to the Royal family.

“Ladies!“ Called Dahlia, clad in a small red grament that revealed her thick and voluptous figure, “Now entering your gathering….Sultan Jafar.“

The atmosphere in the room shifted abruptly, plunging into a tense hush as Sultan Jafar, notorious for his commanding aura and blatant disregard for conventions, disrupted the assembly of married women. The women exchanged furtive glances, their expressions a mix of surprise and unease at the unexpected intrusion. It was an unwritten rule that men, especially a Sultan like Jafar, were not to be present in such gatherings meant exclusively for married women. However, Jafar's formidable authority as a Sultan granted him the audacity to flout these norms with impunity, asserting his dominance over the gathering with an air of entitlement that brooked no opposition.

"Ah, my precious gems," Jafar began, his voice silky as a snake's slither. He gazed at the women of Agrabah assembled before him, their eyes wide and their lips trembling with uncertainty. Jasmine, his devoted wife and queen, sat rigidly in her seat. Her cheeks reddened with embarrassment and shame. Dahlia, already under his control, was grinning like a cat that got the cream.

"It is rather unkind of me to disrupt the time-honored customs of Agrabah's fairer sex." His eyes, predatory and cold, held onto Jasmine's blushing visage before sweeping across the other wedded women in the room. Their forms were encased in silk attire that hugged every swell and dip.

A hot flush of shame washed over Jasmine, her heart pounding with dread. The truth stung like a slap; she had been correct about Jafar all along. He was indeed a villain, one who would misuse his power without remorse, tainting what once was her father's beloved kingdom.

"But tonight," he continued, "in light of the new marital laws I am enacting...it feels only appropriate to enlighten you all." His words hung heavy in the air, a dark promise veiled behind them.

"For too long," he said slowly, savoring each word like a fine wine, "the women of our land have asked for more - more rights, visibility...independence." He chuckled darkly at this.

"Even my dear Jasmine has spoken about ruling and granting more freedoms. That is, before she fell for me…"

His laughter echoed around the room as he stood up abruptly from his throne-like seat. The women gasped collectively; even Jasmine looked taken aback by his sudden movement.

"No more," he declared firmly. His gaze darted towards Dahlia, now Jafar's willing plaything. Her chest was heaving, her breasts rising and falling rapidly in a rhythm of anticipation. She was practically vibrating with eagerness, the mere thought of his impending dominance sending tremors through her body.

"Behold, I am Sultan," he declared with a haughty flare. "By decree and divine entitlement of power..." He let the words hang in the air as he reached for his steaming cup of tea.

"...Before any of you dare to taste from your cups - my cups - I believe we need to demonstrate what is expected from a true wife towards her superior man…" The room descended into an eerie silence, punctuated only by Dahlia's excited titter that clashed starkly with Jasmine's terrified intake of breath.

Jasmine watched Jafar's smug behavior, a dreadful thought seeping into her mind. Could it be? Had Jafar used his dark sorcery to tamper with their tea? She glanced around at her regal and sensual friends; they were ensnared in this twisted game.

As wide, fearful eyes remained fixed on him, Jafar calmly placed his cup back onto its saucer and walked towards his stunned, angry, lawful wife.

Before his commanding voice cuts through the silence. "Undress for me, princess," he orders, The command in his voice seeped out, potent as a viper's bite. Jasmine's pulse quickened, her chest tightening with a blend of surprise and affront that surged within her. The elite women, alluring in their marital bliss, traded knowing looks tinged with sinful pleasure. They reveled in the unfolding drama of degradation before them.

Jafar's eyes, dark and predatory, scanned the room, settling on each woman in turn. His gaze was possessive and unyielding - claiming what he desired without uttering a word. The married women squirmed under his scrutiny, their bodies responding involuntarily to his silent assertion of dominance.

"How…how dare you even suggest such a thing, Jafar?" The words slipped from Jasmine's lips, laced with a defiance that was as sharp and dangerous as the ceremonial dagger she kept hidden in her chambers. The room echoed with her outrage, the tension-charged atmosphere simmering like a pot about to boil over.

Jafar, the Sultan of Agrabah, merely leaned back among the women he now ruled, his eyes shimmering with malevolent amusement. His gaze roamed over her body, lingering on the curves accentuated by her flowing silk robes. "Undress for me," he commanded languidly, his voice dripping with a cruel kind of desire. "And do it seductively…wife…"

Jasmine's heart pounded against her ribcage like a war drum; each beat echoing the humiliation that threatened to consume her. She stood there in front of the most powerful women of Agrabah - all beautiful, all watching her - their expressions varying from shock to morbid fascination, as Jafar, the schemer, finally showed them all his true colors.

Yet beneath this public shame was an insidious undercurrent of arousal that confused and terrified her. It was Jafar's doing - she knew this much. He had been working on her mind for so long now; slowly but surely turning her into an obedient plaything through hypnotic conditioning. Fucking her thoughts as hard as he fucked her taught and perfect flesh.

Her fingers trembled as they reached up to undo the topmost clasp of her robe. She hesitated for a moment before finally releasing it. The fabric fell open slightly revealing more skin than she'd ever shown in public before.

"Is this what you want?" Jasmine asked huskily, trying to ignore how hot and tight everything felt – how every stare seemed to burn into her flesh, “My…my husband?“

"Yes," Jafar replied simply, his gaze never wavering from hers even as he watched the robe fall away piece by piece, “Show me…your man…your finest qualities…right now…“

The battle raged within Jasmine: Pride against submission; dignity against desire; free will against Jafar's insidious control. Yet, she knew deep down that it was a battle she was destined to lose. Her fingers moved lower, undoing another clasp. The fabric slipped away further, revealing more of her body to the Sultan's greedy gaze.

Jasmine was caught in a whirlwind of humiliation and forbidden pleasure, her mind a battlefield where willpower clashed with carnal desire. It was an erotic struggle, one that Jafar watched with delight, knowing he held the reins of power. His victory was inevitable; Jasmine's submission just a matter of time.

A storm of indignation surges through Jasmine, her heart pounding like a war drum against the cage of her ribs. Her skin glows with a dusky bronze allure, the heat of her anger causing it to shimmer like desert sands under a relentless sun. Struggling against the intoxicating pull to retaliate against this man who dares to claim what isn't his, she feels the fabric of her attire loosen.

The diaphanous material that once modestly draped over her voluptuous figure begins to slide away, revealing more and more of her tantalizing flesh. The stolen throne's harsh light catches on the curves of her ample breasts, their shape hinted beneath the thin veil that still clings desperately to them. Her midriff is bared next, a sensual expanse of taut skin stretching over the gentle swell of her hips. The sight is as intoxicating as heady Arabian night-blooms, stirring an unbidden desire in those who dare to look upon it.

Yet beneath this alluring display, Jasmine's hatred simmers hot and fierce. She stands before him - this man who seeks not only to usurp but also humiliate her among his court of conniving serpents - with nothing but defiance burning in her eyes.

The women of the court were rendered speechless. Jasmine was flawless, a vision of carnal beauty that held them all captive. Their ruler, Jafar, once a humble servant well-versed in the intricacies of courtly conduct, was now asserting his dominance over them. The shock on most faces was palpable; others began to emit soft moans of anticipation.

"Be thankful, Jasmine," The Sultan's voice boomed through the room, smug with the certainty of his control. "You're spared from a life of mediocrity."

"But now we are all your playthings...” she retorted, her voice a ghostly murmur against the oppressive silence.

"I merely want a show," he purred, his words lingering in the air like an ominous prophecy, “Go on…give your Sultan a show…obey him…“

Jasmine exhaled heavily, her breath shuddering out of her body. She didn't want this battle; tranquility was her only aspiration. Her fingers trembled as they reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head revealing a red lace bra underneath. His eyes seared into her flesh like lasers, setting every nerve on edge.

She carried on disrobing herself under his hypnotic spell, sliding off her gown until she stood before him in nothing but crimson lingerie. She rotated slowly, every inch of exposed skin under his devouring gaze - an unwilling performer in this twisted charade. The other women watched on helplessly, each one equally powerless to halt Jafar's perverse game.

Jafar commanded music to fill the room and Jasmine began to sway sensually to its rhythm. Her movements were hypnotic; every curve on display for his pleasure alone.

In an unexpected move, she unhooked her bra without any prompting from him. The sight of Jasmine baring herself further brought a wicked grin to Jafar's face - he too was ensnared by her allure.

"Gods above...you are exquisite," he breathed out, his eyes never leaving hers.

She approached him then, discarding her panties mid-stride before settling onto his lap with an audacious smirk.

The women watched as their ruler claimed his wife like a prized possession, preparing to degrade her before them. They could see Jasmine's submission in her every move, and it stirred something within them - a primal need to submit to Jafar's authority. This was his new Agrabah.

Jasmine's dialogue may have protested, but her body betrayed her true desires. She found herself yearning for more of him - his imposing presence, his masculine scent, the feel of his large cock against her bare skin. She was addicted and she knew it.

And as Jasmine yielded further to Jafar's dark power, so too did the women of the court. Their eyes were glued to the erotic spectacle unfolding before them - their ruler taking his wife with an authority that was both terrifying and tantalizingly erotic. And they knew then that they were all his to command.

"You're so... you're monstrous, Jafar. You need... you need to..." Her voice trails off, replaced by the soft rustle of silk and the heavy scent of Arabian spices.

"That's it... display for them all... reveal your true nature... Pussycat." At his words, Jasmine, draped in a sheer veil of gossamer gold that barely conceals her ample bosom and taut belly, kneels before the Sultan.

"What are you doing, my Queen?" Jafar's voice is slick as oil, his laughter a cruel echo against the marble walls. The woman - once regal and proper - knows precisely what she's doing.

The defiant princess turned submissive queen sinks to her knees before him. With trembling hands she undoes the sultan's tunic, revealing his rigid manhood.

“I am…obeying the new laws of Agrabah…Great and powerful Sultan Jafar…“

Jafar's colossal manhood was revealed in all its intimidating glory, a sight that left the room gasping. Jasmine, her small hands dwarfed by its impressive size, cradled it gently. She had learned well what her Sultan desired and was too entranced to deny him anything.

Jasmine, the woman who had once been a beacon of strength for her sex, now found herself torn between her desire to be an emblem for women and her insatiable craving for Jafar's commanding presence. His enormous cock was a symbol of his potent masculinity, and she wanted it more than she cared to admit.

On the sideline stood Dahlia, an embodiment of sensuality with her voluptuous figure accentuated by large breasts and cascading black curls. She was already fully ensnared in Jafar's hypnotic grip, knew what Jafar’s cock could do when the twisted, older man got horny. And here he was, controlling the most powerful women in his Kingdom. She knew her master’s cock was getting everything it wanted now.

The air in the room was heavy with erotic tension as Jafar took what he wanted without hesitation or remorse. The married women watched on, their eyes wide with shock and intrigue as they observed this display of raw power. He was so much bigger…compared to their husbands. Their own desires were awakened by this spectacle; their bodies responding instinctively to the primal display before them. Their husbands were nothing compared to Jafar - their Sultan - whose virility was unrivaled.

"Is it me who stirs this desire within you, my husband?" She asks with a coy smile playing on her lips.

"Who else?" His reply is immediate and confident.

The room filled with an intoxicating blend of fear and arousal as they watched Jasmine submit willingly to Jafar's demands. It was smutty and obscene but undeniably gripping; a testament to Jafar's unyielding control over these once ordinary housewives.

The rigid hardness of him fills Jasmine's mouth, a foreign sensation that leaves her reeling at her own audaciousness. She had only sought to toy with him mildly - perhaps coaxing him to release with just the teasing touch of her fingers - but when faced with his formidable masculinity, his virile scepter fit for a man destined to dominate the world and seed her womb, she was consumed by an unexpected craving for its flavor.

His cock was an impressive piece, large and demanding, a potent symbol of his authority. It filled her mouth entirely, each contour and vein mapped out by the intimate exploration of her tongue. The taste of him was intoxicating, a heady mix of power and raw masculinity that left no room for embarrassment or shame.

Gradually, she started moving rhythmically over him; each motion causing ripples of pleasure to cascade down her throat. The act itself was humiliating – performing such an intimate act in front of all her female friends and allies – but there was something about Jafar that stirred within her subconscious mind.

His dark eyes held a glint of wicked amusement as he watched from above, the corners of his lips curling into a smirk as he reveled in his control over her. He was cruel and cunning; yet beneath it all lay an undeniable allure that made it impossible for Jasmine to resist.

These thoughts swirled in Jasmine's mind even as she continued to service him; the taste of his cock on her tongue serving as a constant reminder of the power dynamics at play.

Despite everything, she found herself drawn towards Jafar's domineering presence; succumbing not just physically but mentally too, under the spell he had cast.

Her eyes locked onto those of the new sultan as she quickened her pace. She yearned for his release; why exactly she wasn't sure but she craved its taste nonetheless.

Jafar threads his fingers through Jasmine’s raven locks as he watches his queen service him with such devotion. Every woman present in court can see how much power he wields over their queen. The subtle conditioning he had been implementing was settling into their minds. Jafar was a man - the most powerful man – the man they would all serve and yearn for.

Jasmine speeds up her movements, her eyes never leaving his as she senses him nearing climax. Many of the women in court, entranced by the erotic display before them, begin to touch themselves; their hands sliding beneath their own gossamer veils. This is Jafar’s new law…and they were all powerless to stop him.

Jafar begins to move his hips in rhythm with Jasmine's mouth, until finally he releases himself down her throat. She swallows everything, savoring every drop.

"You are so skilled with your mouth, Jasmine." His voice is thick with satisfaction as she remains kneeling at his feet. Her pride protests against submitting to this man, but the desire burning within her commands otherwise.

"Tell me what to do," she pleads breathlessly, "and I'll do it."

Jafar runs a hand over his face, a finger in her mouth. He snapps his finger, and Dahlia commands two of the more impressinoble girls there, to help move the Queen’s throne like chair to their master. Jafar sat, his big cock still hard. When Jasmine submitted to him, cumming once was never enough.

"There's a litany of wicked delights I crave to explore with you, but first, my dear, perch yourself upon my lap. You've bared your exquisite form for me and it would be a travesty to not savor your naked flesh," he purred. Without hesitation, she complied, feeling his strong arm snake around her slender waist. Her hand found its way to Jafar's face, her fingers tracing the coarse texture of his beard in a playful dance. She yearned to press her lips against his, but the newly crowned sultan had other intentions as he chose instead to plant a trail of kisses down her neck.

A low moan escaped Jasmine's lips as she reveled in the pleasure that coursed through her veins. One undeniable perk of spending many intimate nights with a man significantly older than herself was his wealth of experience. The skilled fingers of the vizier ventured into her most intimate area, one digit expertly teasing her clitoris. It was clear that Jasmine reveled in every naughty act Jafar performed on her body; each touch only served to stoke the flames of desire within her further.

“Show me…show them…what a woman of Agrabbah does for her Sultan."

Jafar begins to kiss her chest, and makes the young woman moan even more.

She begins to want to feel her vizier deeper inside her. She doesn't really know how she got there. A few hours ago, she hated him. But the? She wants him inside her.

“Jafar, my love, Right here…right now…in front of them all. Show them all what you stole and what’s yours by right!”

“Oh my princess, since you asked your Sultan so kindly…take it like a back ally whore." He said as he plunged his cock right into her willing and wet cunt.

A wicked grin spreads across Jasmine's face as she feels the ex-vizier's thick member pull her down forcefully, stretching her to a delicious limit that sends waves of ecstasy coursing through her. Her screams of pleasure echo off the palace walls, a testament to Jafar's prowess.

Her arms snake around his neck, their bodies moving together in a sinful dance that only they understand. The rhythm is intoxicating, each thrust sending shivers down her spine. Jafar's mouth finds its way back to her ample chest, lips and tongue worshiping the soft mounds he so adores.

"Jafar..." Jasmine gasps out his name, voice hoarse with desire. "Every woman in Agrabah will be green with envy... Your cock... it's so big... so perfect..." She can barely form coherent thoughts amidst the overwhelming pleasure coursing through her veins.

The reality of her situation is lost on her - she doesn't care that she's entwined with the man who just usurped power and held her captive in his own castle. All she knows is this moment, this man, this pleasure.

Around them, other women moan in unison - a chorus of lustful sounds echoing throughout the castle halls. Gone are the days of old traditions; Jafar's rule has ushered in an era where pleasures of the flesh reign supreme. They would all submit to him now.

Jafar’s hands grip onto Jasmine’s hips tightly, guiding her pace as he seeks his own release. “Faster…” He commands gruffly, his voice laced with raw desire.

"Please... Jafar," Jasmine gasps, her voice trembling with desperation and desire. "Don't hold back... Give it to me... harder. Faster." Her words punctuate the air, mingling with the sounds of their bodies colliding in a symphony of carnal pleasure.

She yearns for him - his touch, his dominance - to consume her entirely. She wants him to claim every inch of her being, leaving no room for anything else but him. "Take all of me," she urges, her voice barely above a whisper.

A wave of ecstasy crashes over Jasmine as Jafar takes what he desires without hesitation. The sensation is overwhelming, sending shivers down her spine and leaving her breathless. Her body convulses with pleasure as she reaches the pinnacle of climax.

But even amidst the euphoria, Jasmine isn't satisfied; she craves more - more intensity, more passion. "Don't stop," she begs through labored breaths. "I want you... I need you to take more." Her words are a plea – a plea for him to push her further into this intoxicating world where nothing exists but their shared desire and the power he holds over her.

With one final powerful thrust, Jafar comes inside of her – marking her as his own and filling her with his pleasure. Jasmine’s body convulses in response, her orgasm ripping through her as his teeth sink into the delicate flesh of her neck without any finesse.

"Oh, yes! Yes!" Jasmine moaned, her voice husky and dripping with desire. "Take me, Jafar! Take your little plaything!"

Her eyes were glazed over, her mind lost in the throes of pleasure as she succumbed to his control. Every touch from him sent waves of ecstasy coursing through her body, making her beg for more.

"Harder," she pleaded breathlessly. "Please...I need it...harder."

She was his puppet now, dancing on his strings. Her body moved to his will, twisting and writhing beneath him as he played her like a finely tuned instrument.

"Fuck me," she gasped out between ragged breaths. "Oh God...Jafar...please..."

Her words were laced with desperation, a testament to the power he held over her. She was nothing more than a toy for him to use and discard at his whim.

"Daddy," she whimpered, using the term he had programmed into her mind. It was degrading and demeaning but it only served to fuel her arousal even more.

"Yes...that's it..." He praised in a low growl. His fingers dug into her hips as he drove himself deeper inside of her.

She was everything he wanted - an obedient sex slave ready to do his bidding without question or hesitation. And as Jasmine cried out in pleasure once again under his touch,

Jafar couldn't help but revel in the sweet taste of victory. Jasmine's climax hits her hard, a wave of pleasure that leaves her trembling and gasping for breath. The taste of Jafar's victory is sweet on their tongues, a promise of more decadent nights to come.

Still naked, she leaves the man's lap, spent to get dressed. she was his, but her consious mind still looked for whatever strap of decency she could find. Once the excitement subsided, she begins to realize what she has just done. She has just been fucked by a vile and… terribly attractive man. A sorcerer who just broke her pussy, and made all the highborn women swoon for their all powerful Sultan.

“What now…master?” she asks…not realizing the word left her mouth.

“Now, I go to my Harem. You are divine, my little pussycat, but your Sultan’s cock…it needs more.“ The women, spent and spelled, look towards their ruler, his cock coming back to life, looking for his next conquest. They all wanted him now. They would all give anything to belong to Jafar’s Harem, to be taken like toys by the man whose will owned their bodies and cunts. Who would make them all his whore by law, and none had any desire to resist anymore.

Jafar walks across his bride. He passes the other women, disheveled, grasping for him. Their flesh could be his. But he wants his Abubu. Now that Jasmine was debased, he needs his mind-fucked Abubu to hear every detail of how he publicly abused the wife he once tried to steal from him…all the while begging for his master’s cock to break his asshole in two.

He walks over more of the women, their bodies disheveled and yearning for him. Their soft curves could be his playground, but he needs to break his boys ass now that he’s gotten so much pussy. Dahlia, the dutiful servant who had laced their afternoon tea with obedience during countless meetings, gave her master a subtle kiss as he walked passed her. Jafar's hand lands on her ample ass with a resounding smack that echoes in the room. A shiver runs through her at the contact, her eyes sparkling with anticipation and pleasure. She knows what's coming - the promise of his commanding manhood making her weak in the knees.

Meanwhile, Jasmine lies exhausted from the relentless pounding she'd endured. Her body is spent and sated, bearing the marks of his possession like badges of honor on her skin. He'd publicly claimed her as his own…and she let him. Just because he said the word pussycat.

But a gnawing resentment bubbles within her at the thought of Jafar's preference for Prince Abubu and his effeminate allure. The idea eats at her insides like a ravenous beast, making her despise the incessant need to offer more and more of herself to satiate her Sultan's desires. More pain to get more pleasure. More submission to get more cock…

“But get ready my dear…“ Jafar teased, not even bothering to look back, “I’m coming back to your bedchamber for more of your flesh tonight…try not to look so filthy when I do.“

Jafar knew that he was heard…and obeyed.

Chapter Text

High above Agrabah, Sultan Jafar stood on the balcony of his grand palace, his cold eyes surveying the city below. The cheers of his loyal subjects echoed through the air as they praised their mighty ruler. A wicked grin spread across Jafar's face as he reveled in their devotion. He could feel the power surge through him, the control he held over them…intoxicating.

"My loyal subjects," Jafar's voice dripped with arrogance as he addressed the crowd gathered before him in the grand square of Agrabah.

"As we reflect on the year that has slipped away, let us revel in the remarkable conquests that have flourished under my…unyielding rule. A year of unmatched domination, where I, your formidable Sultan, have seized control and initiated an era of prosper for our esteemed city," Jafar declared with a malevolent grin, savoring the fear and submission that his subjects displayed towards him like trembling prey before a predator.

"Gone are the days of uncertainty and chaos. With my guidance and unwavering leadership, order has been restored, and our enemies vanquished. The streets are safer, trade flourishes, and our coffers overflow with riches."

They all cheered for him now. Good, Jafar thought…let them cheer.

Through his machinations and hypnotic assaults, Jafar had restored order to his Agrabah, removing any and all reforms the former Sultan, and his brilliant and idealistic daughter upheld. The enemies, the people of Agrabah that had tried to protect the citizenry, has all been bent and broken to Jafars will, while his subjects cheered their debasements on. And it was true, the palace of Jafar now had treasures untold. They would not go to helping the citizens of Agrabah, no, they were meant to gleam and be fantasized about by the lowly citizens of Jafar’s great kingdom. Their imaginations aflame knowing that Jafar had everything…they hated it, but knowing their sultan had everything, for some dark reason, now just made the citizens of Agrabah swoon.

Pausing for dramatic effect, Jafar's eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he proclaimed, "The people of Agrabah owe their allegiance to me, their mighty Sultan. It is through my wisdom and strength that we have prospered. Remember this day as a testament to my greatness and your unwavering fealty."

The once lively crowd below now stood in a trance, their jubilation transformed into a deep-seated obsession with Jafar. Adoration and trepidation mingled in the air, creating an atmosphere of unquestioning devotion to the tall, slender man with a mane of dark, lustrous hair, and flowing white robes that they all confessed, immodestly, how much more regal and desirable he looked than the past Sultans before him. Whispers of reverence and fear swirled around him, as if an invisible hand had ensnared their minds, molding their very thoughts to orbit exclusively around him. Their exultations morphed from innocent joy into feverish hymns of blind obedience, the desperate yearning for his validation echoing through the warm night air. The men of Agrabah, their eyes filled with a mix of admiration and dread, watched the most potent among them, knowing that at any moment Jafar could strip them of everything they held dear if their adulation faltered.

The women and wives, now adorned with chains under Jafar’s new decrees, found themselves entranced by the thought of their imposing Sultan seizing those chains. They imagined him pulling them down to kneel before his majestic presence like exotic dancers in an intoxicating Arabian night.

Young maidens blushed beneath their veils, their hearts fluttering wildly at the erotic fantasy that was Sultan Jafar. Young men shifted uncomfortably under their robes, grappling with a stirring desire they didn't understand nor were supposed to feel.

Cloaked in immaculate white robes worthy only of a Sultan, Jafar stood tall and commanding. His formidable figure radiated an irresistible aura that seemed to demand submission from all who dared to meet his gaze. He was no longer just a man but had transformed into a sexual deity in their minds; as mesmerizing as the desert moon and as untamed as the winds sweeping over the dunes. Rumors swirled through the crowd like wildfire, tales of how he had seized the kingdom's treasures and claimed new, hot and young virgins under his total dominion. Each individual voice raised in praise was a testament to the hypnotic hold he wielded over their unsuspecting minds, his influence veiled behind a facade of regal splendor and calculated mystique.

Good, let them cheer, the Sultan thought. He wanted them to see who mastered their homes now…who conquered their lands and spoiled their Kingdoms.

With a powerful snap of his bony fingers, two silhouettes were ushered onto the Sunlit balcony by Jafar's imposing, obedient guards.

The first, a vision of exotic beauty, was none other than Princess Jasmine. Her sapphire eyes shimmered with a mix of fear and anticipation, her once fiery spirit tamed into docility under Jafar's influence. Encased in a low-cut blue, gossamer gown that clung to her every curve, she was like an exquisite flower beginning to unfold under the sun’s fierce gaze.

The second figure was an equally captivating sight. The transformed, broken, feminine Prince Abubu moved with a newfound grace that belied his previous life as a street rat. His once toned muscles were replaced by soft curves and gentle slopes of femininity. His attire mirrored Jasmine's—delicate fabric draped over his form, accentuating his new-found voluptuousness.

They approached their master tentatively, like peacocks presenting themselves to their king in a Persian harem. They had been thoroughly vanquished—not only physically but mentally—by Jafar's dark magic and hypnotic powers. Their bodies quaked with an insatiable hunger for him—their senses heightened and yearning for the touch of his… formidable manhood…that had ensnared their will.

They felt thousands of eyes upon them bellow. But their focus was only on the one they once both vowed to stop and free themselves from. No, they now only paid mind to their master, the great and powerful Sultan Jafar.

Jasmine's heart pounded in her chest as she neared him; her breath hitched when she felt his gaze on her body—a gaze so intense it felt almost tangible against her skin. She could still remember how he'd claimed her body and mind with such ruthless precision—how he corrupted her young mind into needing his cock until now she bowed so low.

Abubu too was caught in this erotic spell; memories of Jafar’s commanding touch etched deep within him like intricate patterns on Persian silk. He craved for more—for another taste of Jafar’s punishment. His body ached with a submissive desire—a burning need that only his master could quench.

They were the ultimate trophies in Jafar's collection—his prizes that he won in conquest for the throne. They stood there under the harsh lights of the sun, their bodies trembling with anticipation, ready for their abject humiliation.

"Ah, my lowly concubines," Jafar purred, his voice as smooth as silk yet laced with a dangerous edge. "Are you prepared to serve your Sultan?"

"Y-yes, Master," Jasmine responded meekly, her cheeks aflame with both humiliation and an inexplicable desire. The memory of the moment she succumbed to Jafar's seduction was still fresh in her mind, their first kiss etched into her soul. Her body, once draped in royal silks and jewels, was now barely concealed by scandalously scant attire that exposed more than it hid. The only gold she wore for Jafar now were her chains, lowering the status of a Sultanna to that of a harem whore. She was no longer a princess but a plaything for Jafar, her dignity shattered like the once grand palace around them.

"Sultan Jafar, allow me…us the honor of worshiping you," implored Abubu, his large kohl-rimmed eyes reflecting both fear and yearning. The days of his audacious rebellion as Aladdin were long gone; he had morphed into an obedient servant, eager to satisfy the man who had tamed him so completely. His narrow waist and lush posterior were scarcely hidden by the provocative garments chosen by Jafar - a constant symbol of his surrender.

"Very well, my toys," said Jafar, smirking as he watched them kneel before him. "In front of my kingdom, in honor of all of have done and all I shall continue to do…Show me your devotion."

Jasmine and Abubu shared a sultry gaze, their eyes smoldering with a ravenous need to satiate their master's desires. The sweet memory of the love they once cherished was now but a faint echo, drowned out by a powerful yearning to serve the man who had ensnared them in his intoxicating web of control. Below them, the crowd roared in approval, their voices rising in a rhythmic chant that echoed the name of their Sultan. They understood the purpose of these public displays - they were becoming hopelessly addicted to witnessing their Sultan taming these sensuous young women, breaking his male enemies until they were his whores, inflaming their own latent desires to be mastered by the most powerful man on earth.

With an enticing sway of her curvaceous hips, Jasmine moved towards Jafar, her sheer silken garments barely concealing her ample bosom and slender waist. Abubu followed suit, his fit form gliding through the lush balcony with an alluring grace that made every eye linger on him.

"Ah my delectable little playthings," Jafar purred with wicked delight as he watched them prostrate themselves at his feet. His dark eyes drank in every inch of Jasmine's body while his fingers traced along Abubu's chiseled torso. "You were always destined to be mine."

Jasmine's once-regal body had been transformed into a vision of erotic submission. The barely-there, blue, gossamer gown clung to her hips, leaving little to the imagination as it draped over her swaying ass. Each movement was intentional, seductive, and needy – the result of Jafar's cruel Cobra Staff training, molding her into the perfect harem girl.

"Ah, my precious pussycat," Jafar sneered, his eyes raking over Jasmine's exposed flesh hungrily. "You've come such a long way from your days as the stubborn princess who resisted me. Does it now feel good? Admitting that you wore those slutty, provocative low clothing for me, the man who was always meant to own you, your father’s kingdom, and your destiny?"

"Oh yes, Master," Jasmine purred, her voice laden with an insatiable desire that only he could quench. "You've stolen my heart and shown me the true pleasure of serving a powerful Sultan like yourself." She let her fingers trail along her thigh, a lascivious plea for her master's attention.

“Show them all…“ Jafar hissed down at the broken girl, “Show them all…how eager you are, bowing before your mighty Sultan!“

As Jasmine knelt before Jafar, the powerful man runs his fingers through her hair, pulling her face towards his crotch. Her delicate hand, reaches up, drawn towards her obsession. She felt his massive cock, still covered in his silky white robes. Her once-honorable demeanor replaced by a ravenous hunger for his cum. The cheers of the crowd below echoed in her ears, a constant reminder of the life she'd lost – but she found solace in the knowledge that she now served the mightiest being in all of Arabia.

"Such a good little whore," Jafar cooed darkly, gripping her hair and guiding her mouth onto his throbbing length. "This is where you belong, Princess. On your knees, worshiping your master."

Jasmine moaned, remembering the power Jafar's cock had over her sex. Lost in the depravity, she wanted the sensation of her master's shaft sliding between her lips, knowing that she had been conquered both body and soul by the man who now ruled her world.

Prince Abubu, right behind the Princess, crawled towards his master. His big, full lips were painted in a deep shade of red, while his thin waist accentuated the curve of his massive bubble-butt. The clothes he wore were specifically designed to showcase his tight body and entice Sultan Jafar – tight, shimmering pants that left little to the imagination, along with an open vest that exposed his smooth, toned chest.

Abubu couldn't help but realize how powerless he had been against the mighty Sultan Jafar, the man who had not only conquered Agrabah but turned all those who defied him into his slave and whores. All traces of defiance evaporated as he succumbed to the irresistible allure of serving such a powerful being…a living god.

"Look at you, my precious Prince Abubu," Jafar sneered, taking in the sight of Aladdin's transformation. "You were never any match for me, were you? Just another worthless street rat, desperate for my attention."

Abubu shivered at the sound of Jafar's voice, his cock hardening at the mere mention of his Sultan's name. He knew his place now – beneath Jafar, his body and soul devoted entirely to pleasing the man who had bested him so thoroughly.

Jafar's hand, sinewy and strong, slithered down to claim Abubu's aroused cock, gripping it with a ruthless authority that made the defeated prince gasp. His hips instinctively bucked into the invasive touch, his pleas for mercy morphing into helpless moans of pleasure. The sudden silence of realization was deafening when those long fingers returned to him, this time daringly exploring the forbidden territory of his puckered hole.

"Are you trembling already?" Jafar's voice was a velvet purr, laden with menace and seduction. His smile was a predator's grin, sharp and dangerous. "You see, my delectable little toy, this was always how our tale was meant to end."

He paused for effect, hearing his slaves moans mixed with the crowd’s chants for him to take more, "Did you really think you stood a chance against me? Against this?" He gestured to himself, his muscular body adorned with silken robes that did nothing to hide his masculine allure. Abubu just moaned at the vision that was Jafar…wanting it to own him.

"Oh, Abubu," he sighed dramatically. "I've always had an uncanny ability to make men fall to their knees before me." The words hung heavy in the air between them, like a thick fog of desire and dread.

"Do you recall the tale of Al-Sahym?" Jafar began, his eyes harboring a devilish twinkle. "A formidable champion hailing from the fiercest caliphate from the east... robust as a bull, relentless as a desert storm. He was convinced he could conquer Agrabah when her father was in charge…he thought he could conquer what was meant to be mine." A low, sinister laugh slipped past his lips, echoing through the room like an eerie lullaby.

"But then... ah, then..." His voice descended to a seductive whisper that tugged at their subconscious minds, "Then he experienced my caress. My fingers tracing the contour of his muscular form... my mouth exploring every crevice of his sun-kissed flesh..." His words spun intricate images of taboo delights and sensual surrender.

"He was so sure of himself, standing tall and proud with his army at his back, ready to challenge these lands. I went out to meet him, his caliphate unaware of the spells I had already weaved under their master’s nose. They watched in awe as we faced each other on that fateful night, thinking I was sent as a combatant with no chance of besting Al-Sahym and his thick, glorious and masculine form…

"His arrogant smile faded when I approached him, my hands sliding over his armored chest," Jafar's voice trembled with pleasure at the recollection. "I remember how he gasped when I unfastened his armor, exposing him to the cool desert night and to my hungry gaze…him powerless to stop the man who, through my control of his servants, had conditioned him to know his true place...

"My touch was gentle yet firm on him," Jafar continued, "I explored him thoroughly; no part of him remained untouched by my eager hands or lips."

"And when I finally claimed him," Jafar's eyes glinted dangerously under the flickering light, "his men watched in stupefied silence as their mighty leader surrendered completely under me…and he vowed to be loyal to Agrabah…to me…"

And then the Sultan invaded Abubu’s ass. Those fingers pressed inside him with a brutal passion that left Abubu reeling. He cried out in surprise and shame, his voice echoing alarmingly loud against the stone walls of the palace.

"With each thrust into his tight ass," Jafar's voice was a mere whisper now, his eyes half-closed as he lost himself in the memory, "he became more and more mine. His cries of pleasure echoed through the silent night, a testament to my prowess. Iago flew above us, insulting the once powerful man, letting it be known that the entire army would be loyal to me…once they each paid tribute in any way their new master desired!

"And just like that," Jafar snapped his fingers, the sound echoing in the courtyard. Immediately, Abubu's arousal spiked, his manhood throbbing painfully against the confining fabric of his trousers. "The once mighty warrior was reduced to a pathetic and willing servant for my cock!" Jafar's voice dripped with lustful satisfaction.

A strangled moan escaped from Abubu's lips as he squirmed under the intensity of his own hardening arousal. The sensation was too much, yet not enough.

"Now that I am Sultan," Jafar continued in a husky whisper after an agonizing pause, each word laced with dark promise. "It is far too easy to make delectable young men like you plead for their own undoing." His smirk broadened into a lascivious grin at the mere thought, relishing in the power he held over them.

"You see Abubu," he concluded, his voice a mere whisper now, "Now that I have everything I’ve ever wished for, it takes real depravity to get me off. My slaves, especially prized concubines like you must fall so low to be worthy of my greatness. That’s why I'm not just going to break you. I'm going to make you beg for it. I’m going to make you remember that you once defied me, were disgusted by me, and hate how much you need to be beaten and broken by your Sultan. And then, once I’ve proven again and again that I am the most powerful man in the world, you will willingly plead for your Sultan and master to hurt and debase you further. Go on…tell me I’m wrong…" His last words lingered in the air like an ominous prophecy, leaving no room for doubt or denial.

The words were cruel but true - their mighty Sultan had reduced him to nothing more than a whimpering toy under his touch. And worst of all...Abubu couldn't deny how much he craved more of it.

“Please please please please” Aladdin moaned, smothered, into his own erotic loincloth.

“Face me, boy!” Jafar suddenly demanded and a strong hand at his shoulder wheeled him around, fingers departing him and leaving him empty and wanting. The sudden movement bounced the back of his skull off the marble and a shock of pain left him breathless, feeling a warm damp seep underneath his mussed hair.

"Your Highness, please..." Abubu whimpered, unable to resist the urge to debase himself further before his dark master. "Allow me the honor of…of worshiping your divine body. Of telling you…how defeated I am…"

Jafar smirked, shifting his position, enjoying watching his aroused slave fall to the ground before his magnificence. Jasmine had bowed so low before him, and her perfect lips wrapped around Jafar’s perfect shaft, swirling her sweet tongue around the head of the gigantic dick. Jafar felt so content from that. But Jafar knew his powers. He could handle two slaves at once, and he wanted pleasure…forbidden pleasure…

"Very well, Abubu. Show your devotion by licking my asshole like the lowborn whore you are."

Tears welled up in Abubu's eyes as he lowered his head, his tongue just inches away from Jafar's puckered hole. He thought of Jasmine, the princess he once loved, now on her knees before Jafar, bobbing up and down on the massive Arabian cock. And as much as it pained him, Abubu couldn't deny the perverse thrill that coursed through him at the thought of serving their Sultan side by side. Jafar was confident in his control over him, and shook his royal ass knowingly.

He hesitated no longer, Abubu’s tongue darting out to taste the musky, dark essence of Jafar's asshole. The bitterness of it made him gag and yet, his own cock throbbed with shameful arousal. This was what his Sultan expected of a lowborn whore like him – utter debasement and submission.

"Ah, yes... such a willing little whore," Jafar growled, his fingers knotting in Abubu's hair, steering him further into the debasing act. "You were born for this, my Prince. To service and revere every inch of your master's majestic body…to make your master’s asshole feel divine.."

His words dripped with carnal intent as he reveled in the power he held over the fake prince. The sight of Abubu on his knees, utterly devoted to pleasuring him was intoxicating.

"Feel it, my prince," Jafar commanded, "The weight of my desire throbbing against your lips. The heat and smell of me filling your mouth. You crave it... you need it."

Jafar's voice was like molten silk as he painted a vivid picture of their illicit encounter. They all watched his ass worshiped from up high. A true Sultan, enjoying the most sinful of pleasures, and such beautiful lips giving his masculine form everything it could ever want.

"You're addicted to my cock," Jafar taunted, his voice echoing through the opulent balcony, enjoying the Princess’ every lick and suck. "You yearn for it... ache for it... beg for it."

His tone was both commanding and seductive - a potent mix that left Abubu helpless against his will.

"Thank you, Master," Abubu choked out between desperate licks and kisses, the fear and disgust mingling with an insidious pleasure that threatened to consume him entirely.

“It…it tastes so fucking good…“

From a distance, the scene atop the palace resembled an exotic tableau of hedonistic pleasure. The mighty Sultan Jafar stood tall and powerful, his lavish robes billowing in the wind, as two sexy slaves knelt before him, their vulnerable bodies on display for all to see. The citizens of Agrabah gathered below, their eyes wide with awe and lust as they witnessed their ruler's unbridled dominance.

Jasmine, her luscious body adorned in seductive, revealing attire, moves her head along Jafar's monstrous erection. Her dark eyes shimmer with both fear and arousal, her lips gleaming wetly with saliva and precum. She can't help but moan softly as she worships the symbol of her master's power, the taste of his musk filling her senses.

Abubu, his once-proud form now reduced to a feminized, eager slave, trembles as he nuzzles his face between Jafar's strong thighs, his tongue hungrily exploring the Sultan's puckered hole. Disgust and shame war within him, yet the overwhelming need to please his master drives him onward, his own cock throbbing painfully in its confining silk, knowing with one snap his Sultan could make him even harder, even more needing of debasement. His arousal below his Sultan made Abubu plunge his face back into Jafar's ass, moving faster and pushing his tongue deeper.

"Ah, my delightful little whores," Jafar purrs, his voice a deep, resonating growl that sends shivers of dread and desire down the spines of all who watched him. Jafar was oozing with satisfaction, feeling his breaths once again become quick and shallow. his slave started to apply more pressure on his cock and hole, making him want more and more, "I never tire of this sight.Jasmine, once so high and mighty, now brought down to her knees. Her pretty lips wrapped around my cock like it's her only lifeline, as she thinks of all those nasty lies she used to tell her father about big, bad Jafar."

He pauses for effect as Jasmine's eyes flash with humiliation but she doesn’t dare stop her ministrations. He grins at her discomfort and continues his speech, "And let's not forget about Abubu - a street rat who isn't even worthy to lick the sweat from my ass. And look at him now," Jafar says with a wicked smile, gesturing towards Abubu who is on all fours at his feet. "So eager to serve me, so desperate for my approval that he'll do anything I ask."

He licks his lips as if savoring their humiliation before adding more fuel to their shame fire. "My cock, so irresistible, commands loyalty in ways your father, the former sultan, never could. It’s a symbol of power and dominance that you both can’t resist."

"Please, Master," Jasmine gasps between mouthfuls of his thick shaft, her voice trembling with desire. "So…so dominant…We live only to please you."

Abubu echoes her sentiment, his once-bold spirit now completely subjugated. "Yes, Master. Your pleasure is our only purpose."

Two slaves, their bodies glistening with sweat and desire, kneel before their dark Sultan, their every motion an expression of utter devotion. The crowd below, entranced by the spectacle, chants Jafar's name, fueling his sadistic pleasure.

"Pathetic, really," Jafar sneers, looking down at Abubu with disdain. "You get hard just from smelling my asshole? You are truly a worthless slave." Despite the insult, Abubu can't help but moan as he breathes in the musky scent of Jafar's sweat-soaked skin, his arousal only growing stronger.

"Master, your divine cock... and that potent, intoxicating scent of yours... it's a heady mix we simply can't resist," Jasmine purrs between the hedonistic licks she applies to Jafar's thick shaft. Her voice quivers with an insatiable need that echoes in the silent room.

"Oh, you have no idea how bewitching you are, Jafar," she continues, her eyes glinting with a lascivious hunger. "That streetrat could never compare to you. You're more man than he could ever dream of being, that’s why he needs to show how low he is…to all of you…whenever you wish it."

Her words hang heavy in the air as she leans back on her heels, staring up at him with that big manly cock in her hand and unabashed desire in her beautiful, mind-fucked eyes, "I'm obsessed by you... possessed by you," she confesses in a sultry whisper. "You've captured my mind, my body... everything."

She stands now, drawing closer to him until their bodies are connnected. The heat between them is palpable, electric. "I beg you to take me right here," Jasmine demands huskily. She gestures towards the opulent railings around them - her father's court - a wicked smile playing on her lips.

"I want everyone to see how much I crave your touch; how much I need your domination," she breathes against his ear before pulling back slightly to meet his gaze once again.

"Fuck me over and over again right here in front of your people - my pathetic father included." Her words are a sinful prayer whispered into the tense silence that has descended upon the court - an echo of her complete surrender to Jafar's power and control, “You made him a bitch to a bird. You wanted his kingdom and you took it, making the older, fatter man bow so low to you. Now he has nothing, and you have a whole empire to worship you…take it all my master…my love…my man…“

Jafar seizes Jasmine's supple form, his fingers sinking into the opulent curves of her body. He relishes in the feel of her, the exotic allure of her Arabian beauty, the promise of decadent pleasures hidden beneath thin layers of silk and satin covering her soft, flesh. His hand trails down to cup her fine ass, appreciating its firmness, sending a jolt of desire through his veins. Her ass wants him…it needs him…

His eyes feast on her voluptuous figure, from the swell of her ample bosom straining against the confines of her top to the tantalizing dip of her waist that flares out into womanly hips.

Abubu cowers beneath his Sultann. His tongue continues its fervent exploration of Jafar's ass, each lick sending shivers down his spine and further fueling his arousal. The taste is intoxicating - a heady mix of sweat and musk that speaks volumes about Jafar's dominance. It’s an aphrodisiac for Abubu who finds himself becoming more engrossed in the act with every passing second. The sensation is too exquisite to abandon; he knows he must wait for Jafar’s command before he can rise.

Meanwhile, Jafar relishes in this display of power and submission, his large cock twitching with need as he takes in Jasmine's defiant beauty and Abubu’s eager servitude. With a predatory grin spreading across his face, he knows they are both under his control as thousands below watch him conquer his prizes...and it feels so damn good.

"Ha! That's right," Jafar laughs, reveling in their degradation. "There's nothing you two can do but moan for me now. You are completely under my control, and you love it."

He grabs Jasmine’s large boobs with that. The princess just moans, and beams with a massive smile. This is so vulgar, but seeing him take what he wants makes her horny, makes her need to cum. Her man, her master, just grabbed her like he owned her…she loved it.

"Speak, my delectable playthings," Sultan Jafar's voice oozed with an insidious charm, "what would you have your omnipotent Master do with his boundless, god-like capabilities?" Jasmine and Abubu, their thoughts fogged by the insurmountable craving for their master's carnal touch, paused only briefly.

They were aware they should beg for mercy, not just for themselves but also for the innocents of Agrabah who had fallen prey to Jafar's malevolent enchantment. However, they found themselves enslaved to him instead, their hands roaming his sculpted physique with a fervor that bordered on religious devotion.

"Master," Jasmine's voice dripped with a dark, sensual hunger as her slender fingers traced the chiseled ridges of Jafar's muscular torso. "Your body is a work of art, each muscle a testament to your power and strength."

Her touch lingered on the hard planes of his abdomen, her nails lightly scratching over the taut skin. "These abs, so firm and unyielding... they're like slabs of marble under my touch." She moved upwards, her fingers tracing the defined lines of his pectorals.

"And your chest, so broad and commanding... it's as if it was sculpted by the gods themselves."

She pressed herself closer to him, her ample breasts rubbing against his robust chest. Her hand traveled lower to his thighs, firm and powerful beneath her touch. "Your legs are like pillars of iron," she murmured huskily in his ear.

Then she reached for his manhood, large and intimidating in its arousal. "And this..." She let out a low moan as she wrapped her fingers around him. "...is the weapon that brings us women…us all…to our knees."

Abubu watched, unable to tear his eyes away as he saw first-hand the power of Jafar's big cock, and the pleasure it brought Jasmine, just touching the throbbing meat. He felt his own body heat with an answering arousal, unable to deny the urge to submit to the Sultan himself and succumb to his deepest desires. Jafar turned to glare at him,a smirk playing on his lips as he looked down at the slave-boy he’d broken over and over again.

"What do you think, street rat? Do you feel the power of my majestic cock? Does it make you wish you could yield to me too - to serve us both as the true slave you are?"

Aladdin lowered his gaze, his eyes smoldering with suppressed longing. "Yes," he murmured. "I want to please you, my sultan."

"Good," Jafar murmured, sliding his hand around Jasmine's waist before trailing it down her body. He then reached out and grabbed Aladdin's chin, forcing his gaze up to meet his. He looked at his princess, still stroking his cock, and wanted more, “Go on…“

Pulling back slightly, Jasmine guided Jafar's gaze down to her own exquisite form. She placed one of his hands on her tiny waist before moving it upwards towards her full breasts encased in sheer fabric that left little to imagination.

"See how my body is crafted for you?" Jasmine whispered seductively into Jafar's ear. "My waist is small but strong enough to take whatever punishment you see fit." Her hand moved lower down to emphasize the curve of her ample behind. "This ass... it’s massive yet tight... ready for you."

"Jasmine, my pet," Jafar commanded, his voice dripping with authority. "Come closer and shake your luscious tits in my face."

Eager to obey, Jasmine moved towards her Sultan, her hips swaying seductively as she approached. The once strong-willed princess now found herself completely under Jafar's control, her mind clouded by the intoxicating mixture of pain and pleasure he inflicted upon her. As she reached Jafar's side, she cupped her large, juicy breasts and began to gyrate them slowly, mere inches from his leering gaze.

"Very good, my dear," Jafar crooned, feeling the delicious pressure build within him. Abubu continued to worship his master's ass dutifully, giving each cheek a submissive little peck while watching his former love give Jafar the big tits they both wanted, and only Jafar was man enough to take.

She then guided Jafar's hand between her legs where she was already slick with anticipation. "And here," Jasmine said with a sultry smile playing on her lips as she pressed his hand against her moist heat, "is the haven that has been molded by your size... a perfect fit for your massive cock."

Her eyes held his captive as she continued, "Imagine how good it will feel when you punish me for not yielding to you sooner, Master. Each thrust of your powerful body into mine will be a reminder of the control you have over me."

With each word, Jasmine painted a vivid picture of their imminent intimate dance, her voice laced with desire and submission.

Abubu was equally entrapped within the dark spell that Jafar had cast around them. His strong hands caressed the Sultan's sturdy thighs while his mind was devoid of any thoughts of rebellion or escape. Instead, it was filled with a desperate yearning to satisfy this man who had so thoroughly dominated them.

"Master, you are the embodiment of divine perfection," the feminine Prince breathed out in a low, sultry voice. His words were like sweet nectar, dripping with desire and submission. He pressed his toned body against Jafar's, every muscle and sinew moving rhythmically against him in an enticing dance of seduction. "Our very existence is dedicated to satisfying your every caprice and carnal delight."

Aladdin turned around slowly, his hands caressing the curvature of his own body as if he were a priceless work of art being admired by an obsessed patron. His fingers traced down the line of his spine, coming to rest on the ample swell of his buttocks. With a teasing smirk playing on his lips, he presented himself to Jafar.

"Master," Aladdin cooed provocatively, "do you not yearn to claim this tight crevice as your own?" The words hung heavy in the air between them, laced with raw eroticism that made even the most mundane sentence sound like an invitation to debauchery.

His eyes sparkled with unabashed lust as he continued his tantalizing speech. Every syllable was laden with smutty innuendos designed expressly for Jafar's pleasure. Aladdin’s voice took on a pleading tone as he begged for what they both desired.

"Punish me... discipline me... make me yours," Aladdin whimpered sensually into the silence that followed, offering himself up entirely to Jafar's wicked whims.

As they lavished his skin with kisses and touches, Jafar could feel their arousal escalating - a testament to how completely he had shattered their wills and replaced them with an unquenchable thirst for his sexual control.

"Very well," Jafar purred, his voice dripping with arrogance. "You wish to serve your Sultan? Then let me hear you beg for it."

Jasmine hesitated only a moment before she began, her voice sultry and seductive. "My mighty Sultan Jafar, please use your divine powers to punish this unworthy pussycat," she purred, her eyes never leaving his. "I once dared to defy you, but now I know my place is beneath you, serving your every desire."

As she spoke, Abubu listened in awe, his own need to please Jafar growing stronger by the second. When Jasmine finished, he took a deep breath and added his own pleas. "Yes, my all-powerful Sultan, this humble Abubu begs for the honor of being used by your massive, glorious cock. I am nothing more than a lowly street rat, and I need to be shown how worthless I am."

A cruel smirk danced on Jafar's lips, his dark eyes gleaming with a predatory hunger as he watched the tantalizing spectacle unfold before him. The two former lovers, Jasmine and Abubu, were now locked in a sultry competition for his attention, their bodies undulating like the sands of the Arabian desert under the relentless sun.

They held their provocative poses, their asses presented to Jafar like forbidden fruits waiting to be plucked from the tree of carnal desire. Their breath hitched in anticipation, heat radiating off their bodies in waves that filled the Balcony with an intoxicating musk. Their eyes bore into Jafar's with an unspoken plea - they needed him to claim them, to use them like wanton whores under his command.

As Jafar looked down at the two perfect asses before him, he could see the wetness glistening on Jasmine's swollen lips and the eagerness in Abubu's quivering hole. The sight sent a jolt of lust through him, his cock aching for the satisfaction that only their submission could provide. Bellow them, they all understood. This is how betas submit to an alpha of a heard. They were presenting their submission to their master, and it was up to him if he wanted their subservience.

Jafar couldn't resist the sight of the two sexy asses before him. Jasmine's round, luscious cheeks were framed by her tiny golden thong, while Abubu's plump, smooth rear was barely contained by a pair of tight silk panties, being ripped open by his cock, hardened by his masters powers. Both holes glistened with wetness, begging for his attention. The sight made his already hard and wet cock twitch with anticipation.

"Look at you both, so eager to be used," Jafar sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. "Very well, but I won't settle for anything less than perfection. Stack yourselves on top of each other, like the pathetic playthings you are, and maybe I'll grace you with my divine cock."

Eager to please their dark Sultan, Jasmine and Abubu quickly complied. Jasmine lay on her back, spreading her legs wide as Abubu straddled her, his own legs spread to reveal his quivering hole. Jasmine turned arouned, and wiggled her perfect ass, knowing Abubu’s wider ass was on top, giving their Sultan two irresistable options. They could feel the heat and arousal being so close to each other. Their once-passionate love for each other had been replaced by an all-consuming need to serve Jafar, and they could think of nothing else as they prepared themselves for his use. They shook their asses, wanting to be their master’s perfect, obedient little toys.

"Good," Jafar growled, admiring the sexy display before him. "Now, let's see which of you can truly satisfy your Sultan."

He positioned himself behind them, Jasmine and Abubu shook to entice their powerful master. They were presenting for their master, their stallion…

"Brace yourselves, my slaves," he said darkly, positioning himself behind Abubu and Jasmine’s feminine frames. Jafar's eyes hungrily roamed over them, absorbing every detail of their obedient stance and the seductive sway of their plump backsides. A predatory gleam flickered in his gaze, his cock so hard as his enemies moaned in need for his cock, "You're about to experience the true power of your Sultan…and it’s going to fucking hurt!"

The audience below roared with excitement, their cheers reverberating through the opulent hall as Jafar, standing tall and commanding, guided his substantial girth into Jasmine's quivering hole. She arched her back wantonly, a sultry moan escaping her lips as she felt every inch of his impressive shaft pressing against her inner walls, filling her completely. The atmosphere crackled with anticipation as he delved deeper, each powerful thrust coaxing a chorus of lewd exclamations from the enthralled princess.

"Oh yes, Sultan," Jasmine gasped, her voice dripping with desire. "Your power overwhelms me... I crave it all." Her words were a sultry blend of submission and adoration that mirrored the intensity of their illicit liaison. "I ache for you... dominate me completely," she purred wantonly, relishing the sinful thrill of their union under Jafar's commanding presence. With each commanding thrust, ecstasy surged through her, fueling an insatiable hunger for more of his authoritative touch.

"Your strength as a leader mirrors your prowess in bed," Jasmine moaned breathlessly, her body yielding to Jafar's every demand. "Your cock feels so good inside me... I exist only to please you…fuck me, take it all…you’re so fucking big, Sultan Jafar!" Her voice trembled with reverence as she surrendered to his dominance, basking in the taboo ecstasy of being her master's willing slut.

As Jafar withdrew from Jasmine's trembling form, the audience's anticipation heightened, their eyes fixed on the scene unfolding before them. With a commanding presence, he directed his attention to Abubu, the once defiant street rat now yielding willingly to his dominance, atop his former love that just recieved such a good fucking. The kingdrom filled with Abubu's unabashed cries of pleasure as Jafar entered him with unrelenting vigor, his throbbing manhood claiming every inch of Abubu's willing submission. Abubu bounced himself backward toward Jafar’s cock. The greedy whore wanted to be fucked, and now the Sultan, the Princess and all of Agrabah knew it.

Jafar's massive cock commanded attention as it moved between his two captives, a symbol of power and desire that left no doubt of his dominance over them. The intensity of each thrust reverberated down to the multitudes below them, a testament to the sheer size and potency of Jafar's insatiable lust that left both Jasmine and Abubu trembling in ecstasy under his skilled control.

As Jafar continued to pound into them, the citizens of Agrabah watched, entranced by the display of their mighty Sultan fucking his sexy slaves. They knew the story well: Jafar had used his hypnotic powers to mesmerize and control the old Sultan, bed the irresistible Princess Jasmine, and seduce the worthless Aladdin into giving him the power of the genie lamp. It was a tale that fueled their darkest desires, knowing that in Agrabah, power was everything, and those who wielded it could take whatever they wanted.

From one angle, the crowd could see every detail of Jafar's powerful thrusts, driving deep inside Jasmine and Abubu, breaking their once-strong wills with each forceful movement. From another, they could see the expressions on Jasmine and Abubu's faces, a mix of pain, submission, and undeniable pleasure as their Sultan used them for his own gratification.

"Such perfect slaves," Jafar sneered, his voice echoing throughout the city. "You should be grateful that I've chosen to share my divine cock with you both."

Jasmine and Abubu could only moan in response, their minds consumed by the overwhelming sensations of their master's thick cock filling them up, breaking them down further with each powerful thrust. They had once fought against Jafar's control, but now they knew there was no escaping the dark desires he had awakened within them.

"Take it like whores," Jafar growled, pounding into them harder and faster, feeling his climax approaching. "This is what it means to serve your Sultan."

"Fuck, Sultan Jafar, fuck me. Fuck ME!" Jasmine cried out, her voice desperate and needy as she felt his thick cock filling her to the brink. Her body shuddered under his powerful thrusts, her eyes rolling back in pleasure.

Jasmine bit her lip to stifle a scream, her mind reeling from the intense mixture of pain and pleasure coursing through her. She remembered how Jafar had first mesmerized her with his hypnotic Cobra Staff, bending her will to his own dark desires. Now, she was nothing more than a plaything for his cruel amusement. The raven haired beauty could only lie beneath him passively grunting at the pain he was inflicting on her well used cunt.

"You're my bitch," Jafar growled, as he pulled out, her cries of sadness when it left her well used pussy as delightful as the tightness of her walls. But he wanted Abubu’s ass again, so he gripped Abubu's slender waist and slammed into him with relentless force. The once-proud street rat could only moan and gasp for breath, his tight hole stretched wide by the Sultan's massive member.

"Please, Master," Abubu whimpered, his voice raw with submission. "I love it. I love your dick."

"Master, please..." she sobbed, unable to resist the urge to beg for more, hating how jealous and hateful she felt as Abubu pleased her master, as his sweat poured down onto her, and she felt so empty, needing more Jafar. "You were right to claim us... We'll do anything for more of your divine cock!"

"Anything?" Jafar asked sinisterly, pausing his thrusts for a moment. "What would you two worthless slaves do to prove your devotion to your almighty Sultan?"

"Master," Abubu panted, his chest heaving with exertion as tears streamed down his cheeks. "We would betray our friends, our families... We'd do anything for the honor of serving at your feet."

“It’s all yours, master…to fuck you again I’d enslave every woman in Agrabah…break us all like you broke my father…just please, my pussy needs your cock, Oh, Divine Sultan!“

"Pathetic," Jafar sneered, resuming his savage pounding of their quivering bodies. The sound of flesh slamming against flesh echoed throughout the courtyard, their anguished moans and screams rising to a fever pitch.

"Please, Sultan Jafar!" Jasmine wailed, her body shaking uncontrollably as she teetered on the edge of orgasm. "Show us your divine power... Prove that you are the most powerful being on earth!"

"Oh, what a sight you two present," Jafar drawled, his voice thick with pleasure as he drove his impressive length further into Jasmine and Abubu's trembling depths. "You've become such delectable playthings for your Sultan."

"Fuck...that feels so good," he growled, the sensation of their tight heat engulfing him making his head spin. His eyes were half-lidded with desire as he watched them writhe beneath him, their bodies slick with sweat from the fierce hot sun above them.

"Such a hot bitch..." he murmured to Jasmine, his hand sliding down her back to pinch her once forbidden asscheeks. He could feel every tremor that ran through her body under his touch and it only served to fuel his lust.

"And you, Abubu," Jafar continued, his voice heavy and filled with command. "Arch that fucking back for me." He gave a sharp thrust that made Abubu gasp out loud, causing a wicked grin to spread across Jafar's face.

"Present that ass to me," he ordered, watching as Abubu complied immediately, pushing back against him eagerly. The sight was enough to make Jafar groan in satisfaction. After a year of training, Abubu’s young ass was so plush and perfect for his cock. They were once young, desirable royals above him in every way. As he thrust back into Jasmine’s asshole, he knew that they now knew their place below their powerful and desirable Sultan.

"Please, Master!" Jasmine cried out, her voice hoarse from screaming in pleasure.

"Your cock is so big, it's all we want!" She tried to push back against him, craving more of his powerful thrusts.

"Ugh, it's too big, Sultan Jafar! But I need more!" Abubu moaned, trembling with a mixture of pain and pleasure as he felt the full force of Jafar's aggression.

Jafar began to fuck them even harder, spanking their asses with each thrust. The sound of his hand striking their flesh filled the air, mingling with their cries for more. He laughed cruelly, knowing that they were completely under his control.

"Is this what you wanted?" Jafar taunted, choking Jasmine while gripping Abubu's hair tightly. "To be reduced to nothing but playthings for my amusement?"

"Y-yes, Master!" Jasmine gasped, feeling both her arousal and fear skyrocket as she struggled to breathe. "We're your bitches, here to worship your divine power!"

"Fuck me, Sultan Jafar!" Abubu begged through gritted teeth, tears streaming down his face as he realized just how broken he had become. "I love it, Master. I love your dick. Use us like the worthless slaves we are!"

Emboldened by their submission, Jafar increased the intensity of his sexual onslaught. He alternated between choking Jasmine and pulling Abubu's hair, forcing them to accept the brutal reality of their new lives as his personal sex slaves.

Jafar's powerful thrusts reached a frenzied pace as the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air. With one final, deep plunge into both Jasmine and Abubu, Jafar let out a guttural roar as he released his hot seed deep inside their quivering bodies.

"Take it, you filthy whores!" he snarled, his voice thick with satisfaction as he pulled out from them, leaving their holes dripping with his essence. Their faces flushed with shame, yet unable to resist the desires that had been ingrained in them, they collapsed onto their knees before him.

"Thank you, Master," Jasmine panted, her eyes glazed over with lust as she stared at Jafar's massive cock, still slick with their combined juices. "Your cum is our greatest reward."

"Prostrate yourselves, my devoted subjects," Sultan Jafar commanded, his voice a dark velvet caress laced with pure malice. Abubu and Jasmine trembled at the command, and fell below their master. They bowed, no matter how much they had just surrendered, they knew their place was to bow before the man who fucked and beat them. Their bodies quivered with anticipation of their master's next order. "Cleanse this royal scepter of mine. Worship it annd know, in your minds, that it is now and forever your only wish to serve it."

"With pleasure, our Sultan," Abubu whimpered, his eyes wide with fear and desire as he moved to obey Jafar's command. Jasmine followed suit, her movements slow and deliberate as she took her place beside Abubu. Jafar watched them with a sneer of satisfaction curling his lips. His once proud adversaries were now nothing more than eager slaves, desperate to prove their devotion to him. The sight filled him with a perverse sense of pride; he had truly broken them.

He walked away from the crowds, not even caring to acknowledge the thousands that watched him openly fucking his slaves. He wanted to sit on his throne. He had done so much to conquer it, and now he wanted to feel the golden cobra envelope his skin while his slaves proved their devotions to him. his mighty cock was filthy as he walked, dripping cum everywhere he went. He knew his slaves would clean it though, With a cocksure swagger, he sauntered ahead, the knowledge of his two enslaved prizes slithering on all fours behind him made his arousal peak. Their luscious bodies were glistening with sweat, their generous buttocks undulating tantalizingly with every agonizing crawl. Jasmine’s monumental breasts swayed heavily beneath her, brushing against the cold marble floor of Sultan Jafar's palace, sending shivers of unexpected pleasure through her body.

"You will cleanse every inch of my body," Jafar drawled lazily, naked on his throne, stroking Jasmine's hair possessively as both she and Abubu lavished attention on his spent cock. Their tongues danced around his shaft in a tantalizing display of submission that sent another wave of twisted pleasure coursing through him.

"But don't think this is the end," Jafar continued, cupping Jasmine's chin and lifting her face to meet his gaze. "Tonight, you will serve me in another capacity. I am hosting an orgy - wives, daughters and maidens all handpicked by my loyal parrot Iago will be in attendance."

A cruel smile spread across Jafar's face as he envisioned the night ahead - the look of shock on the faces of Agrabah’s women as they witnessed their Sultan’s true power; the sounds of moans and cries echoing through the palace halls; the sight of once arrogant husbands thanking him for gracing their wives with his seed. Father’s begging him to take their daughters’ virginity harder and faster…

"I will fuck hundreds tonight, and enjoy every thrust and moan, all while you fan me like a dutiful servant," Jafar added, turning his gaze to Jasmine. "You will be my personal pussycat for the night, ensuring that I am well sated and ready to fuck again and again."

Jasmine's eyes filled with hatred…either from knowing that Jafar was a monster who hated women, or from the jelous thought that she’d have to watch so many women get the cock she wanted to be all hers…but she obediently kissed Jafar, her lips moving against his in a silent promise of submission. It was a kiss that told him he had full control over her - an erotic surrender that sent another wave of triumph coursing through him. Jafar’s magics and potions meant that he could fuck all day and night if he wanted it.

"And you, dear Abubu," Jafar continued, his eyes gleaming with malicious delight as he turned his attention back to the trembling man. "While I am fucking and taking what I want, you will be before me, serving my royal Vizier Dahlia. She needs more experience in taming unruly subjects. Now that my Kingdom is expanding so rapidly, I need help training and fucking all my new soldiers and guards. She will soon be fucking every new soldiers ass, unless I want the honor, so the once loyal handmaiden will need much more training. Your ass will provide the perfect practice ground for her…to learn how to make it hurt…"

Abubu's whimpers echoed through the room as Jafar's words seeped into his mind, the slave thinking of Dahlia's curvaceous body towering over him. Dahlia, who had been privy to all of Jafar’s twisted desires before his ascension to Sultan and had eagerly encouraged him to indulge in them, had now become one of his most alluring and devoted servants. She reveled in the privilege of fucking the palace handmaidens, often making Jasmine herself wait on her every whim. Her ass was now so full and commanding that the thought of it propelling a large dildo into Abubu’s tight hole sent shivers down his spine.He could already feel the sharp sting of her vigorous thrusts; he could see her smirking down at him as she fucked him into submission, forcing moans from his lips with each movement. The image was so clear it was almost real, making his cock twitch in anticipation.

"Well then," Jafar concluded, leaning back against his throne and watching with a predatory gaze as Abubu obediently kissed the blue diamond on his hand - a symbol of their unwavering loyalty to their Sultan. It wasn't just a kiss though. Abubu lavished attention on the ring, completely unaware that he’d been hypnotized by Jafar’s power to crave this intimate act. As Jamine used her perfect body to make out with their Sultan, Abubu would kiss the ring over and over again, until commanded to stop.

"Do these sound like command yous can fulfill?" His voice dripped with anticipation as he posed the question, already knowing the answer.

The palace echoed with the sounds of Jasmine's soft moans and Abubu's trembling whimpers as they both agreed to their Sultan’s twisted demands – each one fully aware that they were now nothing more than playthings in Sultan Jafar’s grand game of power and pleasure.

And outside, the hordes of Agrabah cheered. They were fucked, but they had a ruler, a ruler that was worthy of their cheers, their praise, and their subjugation…

Chapter Text

In the heart of Agrabah, where prayers once echoed through sacred halls, Sultan Jafar's annual celebration of conquest unfolds like a serpent coiling around its prey. Gold gleams across every surface, reflecting the dance of flames that cast the entire chamber in a seductive crimson glow. Incense hangs thick in the air, a sweet and musky perfume that seems to whisper of sins and pleasures yet to come. In the center of it all stands Aladdin, sweat beading across his bare chest, eyes clearing for the first time in months as Jafar's spell temporarily lifts from his mind.

"Welcome back to consciousness, street rat," Jafar purrs, his twisted beard framing a smile dripping with malice. He lounges upon a throne of polished obsidian mixed with sinister gold, coiled together in the form of a mighty, invincible snake fingers tapping rhythmically against its arm. "I do so enjoy our yearly reunion of minds. How does it feel to remember…who you once were?"

In the center of this temple of excess kneels Aladdin, his muscled torso bare and glistening with scented oils. His eyes, which once held cunning and defiance, now begin to clear as Jafar's spell temporarily lifts. Confusion washes over his face like a tide, memories rushing back—not of years of servitude, but of the moment he believed he had stopped Jafar from hypnotizing the Sultan and Jasmine. The cognitive dissonance leaves him dazed as he stares at his surroundings.

"Ah, that’s it my little street rat…awaken, see me as the enemy, the villain you once tried to best," The Sultan’s evil, cackling voice sends shivers down Aladdin's spine. "How delightful to see that spark of recognition in your eyes again…after all, when I first battled you…wanted you

Aladdin blinks, confusion painting his features as memories flood back like a tide breaking through a crumbling dam.

"What..." Aladdin blinks rapidly, his eyes clearing like a desert sky after a sandstorm. "Where am I? What's happening?" His voice cracks, unused to forming his own thoughts.

The marketplace. The lamp. The Genie. Jasmine. Their resistance. And then... darkness, submission, pleasure.

Aladdin's eyes widen, memories stirring beneath the surface of his consciousness. "Jafar...you...you no good, son of a jackal! What have you done to me? To the palace?"

"Done?" Jafar's laugh is cruel and intimate. "I've simply shown you your place, boy. On your knees, serving the most powerful man in Agrabah."

The staff flashes, and Aladdin gasps as if surfacing from deep water. Confusion floods his eyes, replacing the dull glaze of mind control. He blinks rapidly, looking around at the transformed temple, at the gathered crowd, at Jafar's triumphant face.

"W-what?" Aladdin stutters, his voice raspy from disuse. "Where...? Jafar? But I stopped you. You can’t have won…The lamp—"

"You stopped nothing, boy. That memory you're clinging to? That moment of supposed triumph?" His voice drops to a venomous whisper. "It never happened. It’s just an illusion. A thought you place into your mind so you might survive me and all I’ve done…to make you yearn for the man you despised."

"What... what have you done…to me?" Aladdin's voice cracks, rusty from disuse—or perhaps from screaming Jafar's name in ecstasy so often the nights previous. His hands tremble as he reaches up to touch the golden collar around his neck, the symbol of his enslavement.

Jafar's laughter fills the chamber, low and resonant. "Haha, Not what have I done, boy, but what haven't I done? To you. To your sweet, sexy body. To Agrabah. To everyone who once defied me." He rises from his throne, his tall frame casting a long shadow over the marble floor. "Tonight, I generously grant you clarity, your unscathed mind. Tonight I feast on the real you, so that you might fully appreciate the…extent of my victory."

As if on cue, music begins to flow through the chamber—the sensual thrumming of stringed instruments and the hypnotic rhythm of drums. Three women glide into the center of the floor, their bodies adorned with nothing but translucent silks and glittering jewels that catch the firelight.

"My finest treasures," Jafar announces, gesturing toward the dancers. "You recognize them, don't you?"

Aladdin's breath catches in his throat. He does. Naji, with her fuchsia silks and kohl-lined eyes. Taji, whose pink garments barely conceal the curves he once dreamed of touching. And Maji, wrapped in lavender, whose laughter used to follow him through the marketplace.

"The courtesans," he whispers. "From the bazaar."

"The very same," Jafar confirms, circling Aladdin like a predator. "The ones you used to stare at with those pathetic, hungry eyes. The ones you stroked yourself thinking about in dark alleys." He leans close, his breath hot against Aladdin's ear. "Now they dance for me. Give themselves to me. For free."

As if to prove his point, the women begin to move, their bodies undulating in perfect harmony. Naji runs her hands down her sides, cupping her breasts before sliding lower, her fingers disappearing beneath the thin fabric at her hips. Taji and Maji mirror each other, their bodies pressing together as they gyrate to the rhythm, their lips meeting in a deep kiss that draws appreciative murmurs from the gathered crowd.

"They're mine," Jafar continues, his voice thick with satisfaction. "Just as Agrabah is mine. Just as you are mine."

The music grows more insistent, and the dancers' movements become more explicit. Naji drops to her knees before an invisible partner, pantomiming acts that make Aladdin's cheeks burn with shame and arousal. Taji and Maji turn their attention to each other's bodies, hands exploring, lips tasting, soft moans escaping between movements.

"Watch closely," Jafar commands, gripping Aladdin's jaw and forcing him to look. "This is the story of my triumph…These beauties tell the story of my conquest—of how I took what was rightfully mine."

The dance transforms into a narrative. Naji, now representing Jasmine, feigns resistance before melting into submission as an invisible force—Jafar's magic—overtakes her. Taji and Maji enact the surrender of the palace guards, their bodies bowing and bending to an unseen master.

"I took her first," Jafar narrates, his voice husky with remembered pleasure. "The proud princess, so certain she could never be tamed. Her resistance made her surrender all the sweeter when my cock finally broke her will." His hand slides down to adjust himself beneath his robes, the outline of his massive erection visible even through the thick fabric. "The guards followed, their oaths of loyalty to the old Sultan forgotten the moment I showed them the true meaning of power."

Aladdin watches, horrified yet unable to look away, as the dancers portray the subjugation of everything he once knew. Jasmine's handmaiden Dahlia, depicted by Naji's writhing form, surrendering her plump body to Jafar's touch…sneaking secrets to the filthy older man. The royal viziers, the merchants, the common people—all falling under the sorcerer's spell…building his hypnotic powers, until Jafar came before Jasmine, and broke her mind and will.

"Your beloved Jasmine begged for my cock by the end of the first night," Jafar taunts, his eyes gleaming with cruel pleasure. "And now she serves in my harem alongside all the other women…hmmmmhmm, and men, who once thought themselves too good for me."

Aladdin's eyes widen as he watches the dance unfold, his memories beginning to align with the story being told before him. Jasmine’s surrender breaking his brave heart only just restored to him.

"No," he whispers, his voice breaking.

"Oh, yes," Jafar continues, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees as he watches Aladdin's face, getting to feel the supple bodies Aladdin could only masturbate to in his youth. "With that power, I ensured that the Sultan saw the wisdom in naming me his successor. After all, who better to protect Agrabah than someone with my... substantial gifts?"

The dancers' movements become more suggestive, Naji and Maji flanking Taji, their hands sliding over her body in a representation of how Jafar had bewitched the palace. Taji's head falls back, her body arching as if in surrender, a sensual moan escaping her lips that echoes through the chamber.

"Jasmine, of course, required more persuasion." Jafar's tongue darts out to wet his thin lips, his eyes gleaming with malice and lust as the dancers mock Jasmine’s story…showing a woman unable to contain the mamoth cock that was Sultan Jafar. "But even a princess's defiance cannot withstand certain forms of... convincing."

The dance shifts, becoming explicit in its storytelling. Naji moves behind Taji, holding her arms while Maji kneels before her, head tilted upward in supplication. The symbolism is unmistakable—Jasmine, caught between Jafar's power…his desire…looking up at the Cobra-Kings perfect, fucking cock.

"No!" Aladdin lunges forward, only to collapse as his weakened legs give out beneath him, eliciting a giggle from Jafar’s sexy women, "You monster! What have you done to her?"

"Only what she now begs for daily," Jafar says with a cruel chuckle. "You see, Aladdin, while you thought you were protecting her from me, you were merely delaying the inevitable. She serves me now, in ways that would make even the most experienced courtesan blush."

The dancers move again, this time forming a tableau that represents the fall of Agrabah's defenses. Their bodies press together, limbs entwined, hips gyrating in perfect unison as they simulate the pleasures that Jafar has brought to the city…each thrust breaking everything in its path.

"And the guards?" Jafar continues, gesturing toward the uniformed men standing at attention around the room. "The brave defenders of Agrabah? They too saw the wisdom in serving me. One by one, they knelt before me, pledging their allegiance, their bodies, their very souls."

Memories flood back to Aladdin—images of once proud men like Razoul, now reduced to playthings for Jafar's amusement. Their once-defiant eyes now glazed with devotion, their muscular bodies offered up for their master's pleasure.

"And you, my dear boy," Jafar rises from his throne, crossing the short distance to where Aladdin kneels. He grabs the young man's chin, forcing his face upward, towards the powerful man commanding his sexy dancers with nothing but his scent and his will, "You have been my greatest conquest. The hero of Agrabah, reduced to my most eager slave..."

Aladdin tries to pull away, but Jafar's grip is like iron. "I'll never serve you willingly," he spits, though the words lack conviction, “At least…not now that you’ve given me back my…my will…“

"But you already do," Jafar laughs, releasing Aladdin's chin with a dismissive flick. "Every night for the past year, you have begged for my attention, for my touch." He runs a hand down his own torso, coming to rest at the considerable bulge beneath his robes. "For this."

The dancers' movements become wilder, more abandoned as the music intensifies. They spin and undulate, their bodies glistening with a fine sheen of sweat that makes their skin shimmer in the firelight. Their dance now tells of Jafar's complete dominion over Agrabah, of the transformation of a kingdom of honor into a realm of unrestrained pleasure.

"My cock has conquered what armies could not," Jafar boasts, returning to his throne with a flourish of his robes. "The princess moans for it, the guards beg for it, my armies yearn for it, all in our lands pray to it. And you, street rat, you have learned to worship it as the source of all pleasure in your miserable life, your supple lips my finest treasure. Your moans and explosions of cum my greatest revenge..."

Aladdin shakes his head, tears forming in his eyes as more memories surface—nights spent in Jafar's chambers

The dancers conclude their performance at Jafar's feet, their bodies glistening with sweat, their eyes filled with adoration as they look up at their master. Naji reaches out, her fingers caressing Jafar's ankle with reverence.

"Please, my Sultan," she breathes, her voice carrying through the hushed chamber. "Use us as you see fit…again."

The three dancers come together now, their movements perfectly synchronized. They form a tableau that leaves nothing to the imagination—the fuchsia-clad Naji on her knees, face buried between the thighs of pink-dressed Taji, while lavender-draped Maji arches behind Taji, her fingers visibly pleasuring the pink dancer.

Aladdin starts to cry. He is so upset. So aroused…so jelous of the lust these women inspire in him, yet offer so freely to their evil, dark master.

"What you're feeling now," Jafar says, his eyes never leaving Aladdin's tormented face, "this confusion, this rage—it's the same every year. And every year, it takes less time for you to remember your place." His hand drops to feel the women’s bodies as they writhe for him, "To remember how much you've grown to crave my ownership."

Aladdin's body betrays him, responding to Jafar's control with an involuntary tremor. His confusion is palpable, caught between his returning memories of defiance and the countless years…and constant fuckings, of absolute submission.

"You see, I wanted you to keep some spark of resistance," Jafar explains, circling Aladdin once more, his robes brushing against the young man's bare legs. "It makes your ultimate surrender all the sweeter. To know that somewhere deep inside, you remember being a hero, even as you beg me to use your body for my pleasure."

The dancers' performance reaches its climax, their bodies writhing in simulated ecstasy. Sweat glistens on their skin as they call out in practiced unison: "All praise to Sultan Jafar, master of minds, ruler of flesh!"

Jafar's lips curve into a malicious smile as he turns from the dancers, his dark eyes gleaming with cruel inspiration. "But why limit ourselves to mere entertainment," he muses, voice dripping like honey laced with poison, "when we can demonstrate the true reach of my power?" He claps his hands once, the sound echoing through the chamber like a thunderclap. "Razoul! Bring in my royal guards—show our guest how Agrabah's finest warriors now serve their Sultan."

The massive doors at the far end of the chamber swing open, revealing Razoul—once the proud captain of the palace guard, now Jafar's willing enforcer. His massive frame seems even larger now, his muscles oiled to a gleaming sheen under the flickering torchlight. Behind him, a procession of guards enters, each man's body similarly prepared, wearing nothing but thin silken pants that leave little to the imagination and golden collars that match Aladdin's own.

"No," Aladdin whispers, recognizing the men who once chased him through the marketplace, who stood as the symbol of law and order in Agrabah. "Not them too."

"Oh yes," Jafar chuckles, stroking his twisted beard. "Every last one. The mighty Razoul was particularly... resistant at first, when I was slowly worming my way into all of their minds. Weren't you, Captain?"

Razoul drops his gaze, a flush spreading across his cheeks. "Yes, my Sultan. I resisted your generosity foolishly…tried to protect…protect the princess from your…perversions…"

"And now?" Jafar prompts, his tone both indulgent and threatening.

"Razoul," Jafar purrs, leaning forward on his throne. "Do you remember when you hunted our little friend here through the streets? When you constantly threatened to have the young man’s hand cut off for stealing a loaf of bread?"

The burly guard's eyes flicker toward Aladdin, then back to Jafar. "Yes, my Sultan," he answers, voice thick with something that might be shame, might be arousal, “As you…as my secret Sultan Jafar ordered me to do.“

"And now?" Jafar prompts, toying with the cobra head of his staff. "What would you do for me…with all of that bent up…aggression?"

Razoul drops to his knees, the motion fluid and practiced. "Anything, my Sultan. Everything."

The other guards follow suit, a row of once-proud warriors now kneeling in supplication. Their bodies glisten in the warm light of the temple, oiled to accentuate every contour of muscle. Under Jafar's rule, their training has shifted from combat to pleasure, and it shows in the way they present themselves—chests thrust forward, eyes lowered in deference.

"Anything," Jafar repeats, savoring the word. "Show him, then. Show our guest what 'anything' means in my kingdom."

As one, the guards shift position, turning to face away from Jafar and Aladdin, then bending forward until their foreheads touch the cool marble floor. Their poses are identical, asses raised high in the air, the sheer fabric of their pants pulled taut across muscular globes. The position is deliberately humiliating, intended to showcase their total surrender of dignity.

"Look at them," Jafar says to Aladdin, whose face has gone pale with shock. "The mighty guards of Agrabah, who once struck fear into the hearts of thieves. Now they present themselves like bitches in heat, hungry for their master's attention."

Razoul's massive body trembles slightly, though whether from strain or anticipation is unclear. The position exposes the most intimate parts of him, the curves of his ass glistening, the outline of his cock and balls visible through the sheer fabric as they hang heavily between his spread thighs.

"Ladies," Jafar calls, gesturing to the three belly dancers who have remained at the edge of the room. "Perhaps our warriors need some... encouragement."

The three women move among the guards, their bodies swaying hypnotically. Naji presses herself against Razoul's broad chest, her fingers tracing the contours of his muscles before sliding lower, disappearing beneath the waistband of his silken pants. His breath hitches, but his eyes remain fixed on Jafar.

"Look at her, my willing guards," Jafar commands. "The whores you used to dream of. The one whose cunt you fantasized about when you patrolled the streets at night. She's offering herself to you, Razoul."

Taji and Maji work similar magic on the other guards, their nimble fingers exploring hard muscles and growing bulges beneath thin silk. Maji drops to her knees before one guard, her lavender lips inches from the obvious outline of his cock. Taji slides behind another, grinding her ass against him while her hands reach around to pinch his nipples.

"My beautiful dancers," Jafar continues, "skilled in arts that would satisfy the most sober of men. Their bodies are yours for the taking, guards of Agrabah. A reward for your... service."

The dancers become more brazen, their hands wandering lower, cupping the firm flesh of the guards' exposed asses. Naji leans forward, her heavy breasts pressing against Razoul's back as she slides a hand around to his front, fingers toying with the waistband of his sheer pants.

"What say you, Razoul?" Jafar asks, his voice dropping to a dangerous purr. "Does her touch please you? Does it make you forget your true desire?"

Razoul's voice, when it comes, is strained. "No, my Sultan. I am yours alone."

"Prove it," Jafar demands.

Though visibly aroused by Naji's ministrations, Razoul pulls away, turning to face the dancer. "Forgive me," he says, his massive chest heaving with controlled breath, wanting the irrestistable female flesh, but knowing what he must say to feed his addictions, "but I desire only my master's touch. His cock is the only pleasure I crave."

Around him, the other guards echo his sentiment, each pulling away from the tempting touch of the dancers, their eyes fixed on Jafar with naked hunger.

"How disappointing for our lovely dancers," Jafar says with mock sympathy. "All their beauty, all their skill, and still they cannot compete…with the memory of my cock."

The dancers, far from being offended, smile knowingly. This, too, is part of the game they play for their Sultan's amusement.

Taji moves to stand before one guard, her perfect breasts at the level of his face, her scent intoxicating. She rubs herself against him, whispering offers that would make most men lose control instantly. The guard trembles but shakes his head.

"I can't," he whispers. "Only Sultan Jafar. Only his cock matters."

Jafar laughs, the sound rich with triumph as he returns to stand before Aladdin. "You see? Not even the most skilled courtesans in Agrabah can compete with the addiction I've instilled in them." He leans close, his breath hot against Aladdin's ear. "Every night, they beg for my cock. Every day, they commit atrocities in my name, knowing that their obedience will be rewarded with my seed."

Aladdin watches, horrified yet mesmerized, as the guards remain bent over, asses presented, eyes glazed with desperate need, even as the beautiful dancers continue their attempts at seduction. These were men he once feared, men who represented authority and strength. Now they whimper and beg for Jafar's touch like animals in heat.

"Perhaps," Jafar continues, tapping his long fingers against the arm of his throne, "there is another way they might make use of our loyal guards. One that would remind them of their place."

At this, the dancers' smiles widen, a shared secret passing between them and their Sultan. Without needing further instruction, Naji moves behind Razoul, her hands firm on his broad shoulders.

"Down," she commands, pressing until the once-proud captain is on all fours, his powerful body arranged like a beast of burden. The other dancers do the same with their chosen guards, transforming warriors into animals with a few expertly applied pressures.

Naji gathers her fuchsia silks, adjusting them so that her legs are bare, and swings herself onto Razoul's back with practiced grace. Her thighs clamp around his sides, her ankles crossing beneath his stomach. The tiny bells on her outfit jingle as she settles herself, one hand gripping the guard's short hair as if it were reins.

"Giddy up," she says, giving Razoul's flank a sharp slap with her free hand.

The guard begins to crawl forward, bearing the dancer's weight with ease, his powerful muscles rippling beneath her. The other dancers mount their chosen steeds similarly, Taji's pink form bouncing slightly as her guard begins to move, Maji leaning forward to whisper commands into her mount's ear.

"Now they are as they should be," Jafar says, gesturing expansively. "Beasts to be ridden, animals in the service of their betters."

The other guards murmur their agreement, their bodies responding to the dancers' touch even as their eyes remain locked on Jafar with naked longing.

"Keep moving, my pony slaves" Jafar orders suddenly, his voice sharp. "All of you. Show our guest what good boys you've become."

As one, the guards turn, bending at the waist to present their asses to their master. The thin silk stretches across muscular globes, outlining each curve in mouthwatering detail.

"That's it, my pretty pony," Naji coos, grabbing a handful of his hair like reins. "Let's see how well you can carry me."

Razoul's face burns with humiliation, but his expression shows something else—a perverse pride in being useful to his master's playthings. He steadies himself, muscles straining to provide a stable platform for the dancer.

"Make them buck," Jafar commands, his eyes glittering with cruel amusement.

The dancers dig their heels into the guards' sides like spurs. "Buck for me, beast," Taji demands, tugging sharply on her mount's ear. "Show me how strong you are."

The guard beneath her lurches upward, his body jerking in a parody of a horse's buck. The movement causes Taji to bounce on his back, her breasts jiggling enticingly with each motion. She throws her head back, a moan of pleasure escaping her painted lips.

"Harder," she demands, grinding herself against him. "Make me feel it."

Along the line, each dancer establishes her own rhythm, using the men beneath them for their pleasure. Maji rocks her hips in slow circles, stimulating herself against her mount's spine. "That's it," she breathes. "Good boy…Sultan Jafar’s gooooood ponies."

The guard beneath her grunts with the effort, but his face shows only gratitude—gratitude for being allowed to serve, for being used as nothing more than furniture for his master's amusement.

Naji, astride Razoul, is the most demanding of all. She bounces vigorously on his back, one hand still gripping his hair, the other between her own thighs, pleasuring herself openly. "Imagine it's him," she whispers, though loudly enough for Aladdin to hear. "Imagine it's Sultan Jafar's magnificent cock stretching you open, filling you completely."

Razoul moans at her words, his eyes glazing over as the fantasy takes hold. "Yes," he gasps. "His cock... his power..."

The three dancers establish a rhythm now, using their mounts to buck and thrust beneath them. Their bodies undulate in waves of pleasure, breasts bouncing, skin glistening with exertion. Yet even in the throes of their own ecstasy, their eyes keep returning to Jafar—seeking his approval, his attention.

"You see how it works?" Jafar asks Aladdin conversationally, as though they're discussing something as mundane as the weather. "They use these men's bodies, but they dream of me. Just as these guards serve as beasts of burden, but they too dream of me." He leans back, spreading his legs wider. "Everyone in Agrabah dreams of me now. Of this." He cups his impressive bulge again, squeezing it slowly.

The dancers' movements grow more frantic, their cries more urgent. They're racing toward climax now, using the guards' bodies without regard for the men's comfort or dignity. Naji is the first to peak, her body going rigid atop Razoul, her thighs clamping around his sides as she shudders through her orgasm.

"Jafar!" she cries out, her head thrown back in ecstasy. "My Sultan!"

"Giddyup," another sexy bellydancer purrs, grinding down against her toy. "Show me how eager you are to please Sultan Jafar's favorite dancers…fuck yes!"

The guard begins to crawl forward, his muscles straining under her weight, sweat beading across his skin. Beside him, Taji and Maji have mounted their own human steeds, their jeweled fingers wrapped in hair, their wet cunts staining the backs of once-proud men.

"Faster," Maji demands, digging her heels into her mount's sides like spurs. "Faster, you worthless beast. Make me cum on your back or Sultan Jafar will hear of your failure."

The mention of Jafar's name sends a visible shudder through the guards. They increase their pace, crawling in circles around the chamber, their cocks hanging heavy and desperate between their legs, dripping precum onto the marble floor.

Jafar approaches one guard who has fallen slightly behind the others, his pace flagging under Taji's is to spit directly onto the guard's face, the saliva dripping down his cheek in a humiliating trail. "Then prove it, beast. Make her scream my name when she cums."

As if energized by the degradation, the guard surges forward, his crawl transforming into a primal, animal-like movement that bounces Taji on his back. She laughs, delighted by the sudden vigor, and grinds herself harder against him.

"That's it," she moans, her head tipping back as pleasure builds within her. "That's what your worthless body is good for—making Sultan Jafar's toys happy."

Naji has begun to bounce more vigorously on her mount, her small breasts jiggling with each movement, her lips parted in ecstasy. "Buck for me," she commands, yanking painfully on her guard's hair. "Buck like the animal you are."

Around them, the dancers' cries grow more frantic as they approach climax, their bodies undulating atop their human steeds, their cunts leaving wet trails across muscled backs.

"Jafar! Oh, Sultan Jafar!" Maji screams, the first to succumb to pleasure, her body convulsing as she grinds down hard against her mount. "Your power makes me cum so hard!"

Taji follows moments later, her pink-nailed fingers digging into her guard's shoulders as she shudders through her release. "No one but you, my Sultan! No cock but yours could command such service!"

Naji, determined to outperform her sisters, yanks her guard's head back at a painful angle. "Buck harder! Make me scream louder than them for our Sultan!"

The guard complies, his movements growing wild and desperate, bouncing Naji so violently that her jewelry jingles with each impact. She throws her head back, eyes rolling as pleasure overtakes her. "JAFAR! MY SULTAN! MY GOD!"

One by one, the other dancers follow, each calling Jafar's name as they reach their peak. The guards remain steady beneath them, some trembling with their own unfulfilled arousal, others simply enduring—all of them focused on performing their duty to perfection.

As the final dancer's cries fade, Jafar rises from his throne once more. "Good ponies," he mocks, walking along the line to pat each guard on the head like a favored pet. "You've served your purpose well."

When he reaches Razoul, he pauses, lifting the guard captain's chin with one finger. "And what do you say, Captain? Have you enjoyed your role as a mount for my dancer?"

Razoul's eyes, once filled with pride and authority, now shine with nothing but desperate adoration. "Thank you, Master, for allowing me to be used for your entertainment. My only regret is that it wasn't your magnificent cock riding me."

Jafar moves behind them, his hand coming down in a stinging slap against Razoul's ass.

"Tell Aladdin how it feels to betray everything you once stood for," Jafar commands, delivering another slap that makes Razoul gasp.

"It feels... fucking amazing, my Sultan," Razoul groans, pushing back into the punishment. "Each time I kneel for you, hurt others for you, each time I feel your cock stretch me open, I remember how I once served a weak master. Now I serve power incarnate."

Another guard speaks up, his voice trembling with arousal. "When you ordered us to raid the marketplace, to take the food from children's mouths to fill your treasury... I came in my pants just following your command, Sultan Jafar."

"The old Sultan begged us to remember our oaths," a third guard confesses, his ass wiggling slightly as if seeking Jafar's touch. "But we were already yours. We laughed as we dragged him from his throne."

Jafar moves along the line, administering a stinging slap to each presented ass, leaving red handprints in his wake. The dancers continue their seduction, bodies pressing against the guards from the front while Jafar torments them from behind. Despite the women's efforts—their fingers stroking cocks, their lips whispering filthy promises—each guard remains fixated on Jafar.

"Look at them, Aladdin," Jafar purrs, grabbing a fistful of Razoul's hair and yanking his head back. "The mighty protectors of Agrabah, reduced to begging for my touch. They could have any woman in the kingdom, yet they drip for my cock alone."

As if to demonstrate, Jafar slides his hand between Razoul's legs, then withdraws it, fingers glistening with precum. He holds them up for Aladdin to see before bringing them to Razoul's lips. The guard eagerly sucks them clean, moaning around the digits like a common whore.

"I beg…your Sultan cock in my ass…right now, master," Razoul begs when Jafar withdraws his fingers. "I need it. We all do."

"And what would you do to earn such a privilege?" Jafar asks, his voice silky with menace.

"Anything," comes the chorus of replies. "Everything."

Throughout it all, Aladdin watches, his face a mixture of disgust and unwilling arousal. These men who once chased him through the streets, who represented law and order in Agrabah, now serve as furniture, as animals, as toys—and they love it. Their eyes shine with devotion even as their bodies are used and abused, their only desire to please Jafar through their degradation.

***

Amidst the erotic chaos of bucking human ponies and moaning dancers, the grand doors swing open once more.The crowd parts in rippling waves of silk and flesh to reveal a short, round figure waddling eagerly toward Jafar's throne. His bald head gleams in the lamplight, the few remaining wisps of white hair fluttering with his hurried movements. Where once he wore the splendid robes of a Sultan, now he sports only a thin loincloth that does little to conceal his flabby body.

The former Sultan of Agrabah waddles in, his once-regal bearing now a distant memory. His round body, once draped in the finest silks and jewels is trapped and debased in gold rings that pierce his nipples, connected by a delicate chain that jingles with each nervous step. His eyes, once proud and commanding, now dart around the room like those of a frightened animal before settling on Jafar with an expression of desperate adoration.

"My…Sultan," the former ruler breathes, dropping immediately to his knees and pressing his forehead to the marble floor. "I bring wonderful news that I pray will please you."

Jafar turns from the spectacle of the dancers dismounting their sweaty human steeds, his lips curling into a sneer of contempt and amusement. "Ah, my predecessor graces us with his presence. Rise, old man. Let our…guest…see what becomes of those who once sat upon the throne I now claim."

The former Sultan scrambles to his feet, his movements lacking any trace of dignity. As he straightens, Aladdin notices the constellation of angry red bite marks covering the old man's shoulders, neck, and chest—some fresh enough to still show teeth indentations, others healing into purplish bruises.

"Look closely, Aladdin," Jafar murmurs, gesturing toward the marks. "My pet Iago enjoys having his own pet to play with each night. The parrot has quite the appetite for flesh, particularly the tender spots of once-powerful men."

The former Sultan shivers at the mention of Iago, but his smile remains fixed, desperate to please. "Sultan Jafar, I've ordered another increase in taxes throughout the lower city. The people starve, but your treasury grows ever fuller!" His voice carries the inappropriate enthusiasm of a broken mind. "Three more caravans of gold arrived this morning, and I've personally selected the finest pieces for your private collection."

"How thoughtful," Jafar drawls, circling the pudgy man like a predator. "And tell me, how did the people react to this latest... extraction of wealth?"

The former Sultan's smile widens, revealing teeth stained from neglect. "There was a small uprising in the eastern quarter, but your magnificent guards put it down most efficiently!" He claps his hands together like a child. "Forty rebels executed, their families sold to the slave markets of Caldiz. All as you commanded, my Sultan."

Jafar's hand strokes his twisted beard, his eyes gleaming with malicious pleasure. "Excellent. You've been a good servant today." He reaches out to pat the former Sultan's cheek in a mockery of affection. "What else have you brought me?"

The old man's entire demeanor brightens at the meager praise. "Oh! I've brought new additions for your harem, my Sultan! Three virgin daughters of the merchant guild, all ripe for your pleasure."

His voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. "And…to honor this new and sacred holiday…the day of Sultan Jafar…I've consulted the ancient texts on sex and servitude to the Sultan on high…and inplored these rituals at great expense to the taxpayers…to prepare Jasmine…your bride, your Sultana and your whore of whores…for tonight's celebration. My daughter—" he emphasizes the word with perverse pride "—has been practicing new dances, and has been bathed in ancient oils once thought lost to the world that…will inflame your passions, my powerful, vigorous Sultan."

"Your daughter," Jafar repeats, savoring the words. "How quickly you surrendered her to my bed, old man. The princess you once guarded so jealously."

The former Sultan's eyes glaze with confusion for a moment before clarity returns. "She serves her rightful master now. Just as I do. Just as all of Agrabah does. Nothing is too precious to give to you, my Sultan," the old man insists, bouncing on his toes like an eager puppy, "Jasmine is the most beautiful woman in all Agrabah. Who better to please the most powerful man on earth…in any way he desires?"

Jafar chuckles, the sound sending visible shivers down the old man's spine. Without warning, he spins the former Sultan around, bending him over and yanking down the meager loincloth to expose his pale, flabby buttocks.

"Remember when I used to bow to you?" Jafar hisses, his fingers tracing the cleft of the old man's ass. "When I had to kiss your ass…metaphorically…every day, agreeing with your foolish decisions, praising your idiocy?"

The former Sultan whimpers but pushes his ass back toward Jafar's touch. "Yes, my Sultan. You were too good for such…degradation…Oooooh my…"

"And now?" Jafar asks, his middle finger pressing against the old man's hole, teasing the puckered entrance.

"Now…I kiss your ass, Oh mighty, divine Sultan…" the former Sultan moans, his body trembling with need. "Now I beg for your touch, your approval…your…massive, delicious cock."

Without warning, Jafar plunges his finger deep into the former ruler's ass, drawing a cry that mingles pain and pleasure. "This is how easily you broke," he narrates, addressing Aladdin while finger-fucking the moaning old man. "The once-mighty Sultan of Agrabah, whose word was law, whose authority was unquestioned."

The former Sultan's cock, small and pathetic compared to Jafar's impressive member, grows hard despite the humiliation—or perhaps because of it. He rocks back against Jafar's invading digit, mewling like a common whore.

"You see, street rat," Jafar continues, working a second finger alongside the first, stretching the former ruler's hole while the entire court watches, "his mind was already weak. Decades of being surrounded by yes-men, of having his every whim catered to...he never developed the mental fortitude to resist true power."

Jafar's fingers curl inside the man, finding the spot that makes the former Sultan's knees buckle. "One taste of my magic, one glimpse of my true potential, and his mind shattered like fine porcelain. Now he exists only to serve me, to bring me treasures stolen from his own people, to offer up his daughter for my pleasure night after night…addicted to how my mighty body ruins her sexy curves before thousands of Arabia…"

The former Sultan's moans grow louder, more desperate, as Jafar works his fingers deeper. "Please, my Sultan... may I... may I cum from your touch?"

"No," Jafar replies coldly, thrusting fingers with brutal suddenness, knowing he would deny the Sultan the only thing he wanted now, "You haven't earned that privilege today."

The old man sobs but nods in acceptance, his unfulfilled erection tenting the thin fabric, making Sultan Jafar seem larger and greater.

"It was almost too easy," Jafar confides to Aladdin, wiping his soiled fingers on the former Sultan's bare shoulder. "From advisor to ruler, from ass-kisser to ass-master. One day I was bowing and scraping, the next I was watching him offer his virgin daughter to me, begging me to take her while he watched."

"Yes! Yes!" the old man gasps, drool beginning to leak from the corner of his mouth as Jafar's fingers work their magic inside him. "You showed me... true worship... better than... being Sultan..."

"My spells simply amplified what was already there—his need for adoration, for submission disguised as respect." Jafar adds a third finger now, stretching the former ruler obscenely wide. "I gave him a choice: continue being obeyed out of duty, or to worship out of desire. And like all weak men, he chose the path of least resistance...The path that leads to Sultan Jafar!"

The old Sultan's knees buckle slightly as Jafar's fingers thrust deeper. "Please," he begs, though whether he's asking for more or for mercy is unclear even to him. "Please, my Sultan!"

"The mind control took root in fertile soil," Jafar explains to Aladdin, ignoring the old man's pleas. "Each day, I would release him from it briefly—just as I've done with you—and let him see what he'd become. And each day, it took less time for him to accept his new reality. To crave it." He withdraws his fingers abruptly, leaving the former Sultan whimpering at the sudden emptiness. "After a year, I no longer needed the spell at all. He'd broken himself for me."

Jafar wipes his soiled fingers on the old man's back, leaving glistening trails across the flabby skin. "Stand up," he orders.

The former Sultan straightens, his face flushed and his loincloth tented with his own arousal. Despite just being used and discarded, his expression shows only gratitude and adoration.

"Tell our guest about these," Jafar commands, tracing one of the prominent bite marks on the old man's shoulder.

The former Sultan giggles again, that disturbing childlike sound. "Oh, these are from Iago, my Sultan's magnificent parrot! I am given to him each night as a reward for his loyalty." He touches one of the marks almost reverently. "He has such a strong beak! And such creative uses for it!"

Aladdin's face contorts with disgust and pity. "You let a bird... a parrot..."

"Not just any parrot," the old man corrects proudly. "Sultan Jafar's most trusted advisor! It's an honor to serve him." He turns to Jafar, eyes wide with earnest devotion. "Iago says I'm his favorite chew toy. Isn't that wonderful?"

"Indeed," Jafar agrees dryly. "Iago has developed quite the taste for royal flesh. Particularly the more... intimate areas." He smirks as Aladdin blanches at the implication.

The former Sultan nods enthusiastically, "He especially likes to peck at my—"

"That's enough," Jafar cuts him off, not out of mercy for Aladdin but from boredom, "Bring her in."

The former Sultan bows repeatedly as he backs away, his movements reminiscent of a wind-up toy. "At once, my Sultan! You will be so pleased! She's become quite skilled with her mouth since last you used her!"

As the old man waddles toward the entrance, Jafar turns his attention back to Aladdin. "That's what true power looks like, boy. Not just controlling bodies, but reshaping minds until they can't remember ever being different." He gestures to the bite-marked flesh of the retreating former ruler. "He offers his own daughter's body for my pleasure, and considers it an honor. He gives himself to be used by a bird, and calls it a privilege."

Aladdin's face is a mask of revulsion and dawning terror. "You're a monster," he whispers.

"No," Jafar corrects, his smile widening to show teeth. "I'm a god. Your god. And like every other inhabitant of Agrabah, you will worship at my altar." He adjusts himself through his robes, the impressive outline of his manhood clearly visible. "Some with more enthusiasm than others, but worship nonetheless."

A hush falls over the assembled crowd as the former Sultan returns to the entrance, gesturing excitedly for someone to enter. "And here she comes now," Jafar purrs, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. "The final piece of your breaking."

A hush falls over the chamber as the music shifts to a haunting melody played on strings and drums. The crowd parts like a receding tide, all eyes drawn to the entryway where a slender figure appears, bathed in golden light. Princess Jasmine—or what remains of her royal identity—glides into view, her movements fluid and hypnotic. Gone are her modest palace garments, replaced by translucent red silks that cling to every curve of her body, revealing more than they conceal. Gold chains drape across her hips, tiny bells announcing each step with a delicate chime. Her eyes, once bright with defiance, now hold a curious mixture of submission and calculation as they fix upon Jafar with unmistakable hunger.

"My Sultan," she purrs, her voice carrying through the silent chamber as she sinks into a deep bow that allows her breasts to spill forward, nearly escaping the flimsy fabric. "I come to please you, as is my purpose and my pleasure."

Aladdin makes a strangled sound, somewhere between a gasp and a sob. The Jasmine before him bears little resemblance to the spirited princess who once dreamed of freedom from palace walls. This creature moves with practiced seduction, her body adorned with symbols of ownership—a golden collar at her throat, matching the one around Aladdin's neck, and intricate henna patterns across her skin that, upon closer inspection, spell out Jafar's name in elegant script.

"Ah, my fucking prize," Jafar drawls, leaning forward on his throne, eyes gleaming with malicious delight. "Show our guest what you've learned since joining my harem, princess."

Jasmine rises gracefully, her gaze flickering briefly to Aladdin—a moment of recognition that passes so quickly he might have imagined it. Then the music swells, and she begins to dance.

Her movements start slow, sinuous, her hips swaying in perfect rhythm with the pulsing drums. Her hands trace the contours of her own body—cupping her breasts, sliding down her flat stomach, dipping between her thighs in unmistakably explicit gestures. With each passing moment, the dance grows more provocative, more debased. She drops to her knees, arching her back to thrust her breasts toward the ceiling, then rolls onto her stomach to undulate against the marble floor in a simulation of sexual congress that makes several onlookers groan with desire.

The crowd, already aroused from the earlier displays of dominance and submission, watches with hungry eyes. The belly dancers, still mounted on their human steeds, observe with professional appreciation. The former Sultan gazes at his daughter with vacant pride, as though her sexual debasement by the stronger, more fertile Sultan is an accomplishment to be celebrated.

Jasmine's dance continues, growing more frantic, more desperate. She tears away the sheer fabric covering her breasts, exposing them fully to the heated air of the chamber. Her nipples stand erect, darkened with arousal, as she crawls toward Jafar's throne like a beast in heat.

"Please, my Sultan," she moans, loud enough for all to hear. "I need your touch. Just one touch to ease the burning inside me."

Jafar's smile is cruel as he extends one long finger, barely brushing it against her cheek. The effect is immediate and shocking—Jasmine's entire body convulses, a moan tearing from her throat that sounds ripped from the depths of primal need.

"See how she responds to me now, street rat?" Jafar taunts, his finger trailing down to circle one of Jasmine's nipples, making her whimper and arch into the touch. "One caress and she's ready to beg."

"Please," Jasmine gasps, her eyes glazed with desperate desire. "Please, my Sultan. I need your cock. Nothing else satisfies me anymore."

Jafar chuckles, the sound dark with satisfaction. "Tell our guest why you crave me so desperately, princess. Compare what you once had to what you now worship."

Jasmine turns toward Aladdin, her eyes focusing on him with cruel clarity. "Aladdin," she says, his name strange on her lips after so long. "Your cock was...hehe..childish. A boy's tool, thin and eager, spilling its seed too quickly to satisfy." Her hand reaches out to stroke Jafar's robes, outlining the massive bulge beneath. "But Sultan Jafar... his cock is a god's weapon. Thick as my wrist, long enough to reach places inside me I never knew existed."

She licks her lips, her expression dreamy with remembered pleasure. "The first time he took me, I screamed for hours—in pain, then in pleasure so intense I thought I would die from it…and I promised him anything he desired for more. Now I crave that exquisite agony, that stretching fullness that only he can provide."

"Your cock," Jasmine mules, her voice carrying clearly through the chamber. "Please, my Sultan, I need your cock inside me. I need to be filled by you, owned by you, used by you."

Aladdin's face contorts with pain, but Jafar merely smiles, continuing to toy with Jasmine's breast, rolling her nipple between his fingers until she whimpers with need.

"And why should I grant you this privilege?" Jafar asks, his free hand now sliding down her stomach, between her legs, finding the wet heat there. "Why should I bestow my cock upon a woman who once rejected me?"

Jasmine's hips buck against his hand, seeking more pressure, more friction. "Because I've learned my lesson," she gasps. "Because I exist only to please you. Because no other man could ever satisfy me now...because I’m your bitch-mare and need to be mounted by my stallion!"

To demonstrate her devotion, she lowers her head to the floor, raising her ass higher in supplication. The position is deliberately degrading, transforming the once-proud princess into a beast in heat, presenting herself for mounting.

"Look, Aladdin," Jafar says, rising from his throne to circle Jasmine's prostrate form. "See how eager she is for me. The woman you loved, the princess you would have died for, now reduced to begging for my cock like a common whore."

Jasmine remains in position, her body trembling with anticipation. When Jafar's hands come to rest on her upturned ass, she actually purrs, the sound rumbling from deep in her throat. It's an animal noise, primal and unrestrained, utterly at odds with the refined princess she once was.

"My Sultan," she moans as his fingers dig into the flesh of her buttocks, spreading her wider. "Please... I need..."

"What do you need, princess?" Jafar asks, his voice a cruel tease. "Tell me. Let Aladdin hear exactly what you crave."

"I need to be fucked," Jasmine says, the crude word falling from her lips with practiced ease. "Hard and deep. I need your massive cock stretching me, filling me, claiming me. I need to be reminded that I belong to you, body and soul."

To emphasize her point, she begins to bark like a dog, the sound shocking in its unexpectedness. The display is deliberate, calculated to show how completely she has surrendered her humanity, her dignity, for the chance to please Jafar.

"Good girl," Jafar praises, his robes falling open to reveal his aroused state. His cock springs free, massive and intimidating, the size alone explaining part of the hold he has over his subjects. It's a weapon of sorts, a tool of dominance as much as pleasure.

Without preparation or gentleness, he thrusts forward, burying himself to the hilt in Jasmine's wet heat. She screams—a sound that mingles pain and ecstasy in equal measure—her fingers clawing at the marble floor as her body struggles to accommodate his size.

"Sultan Jafar!" she cries out, her back arching sharply. "Your cock is too big, too powerful! It's splitting me open!"

"And yet you take it all," Jafar growls, his hips pistoning with brutal force. "Like the cumslut you were born to be."

The sound of flesh slapping against flesh fills the chamber as Jafar pounds into the former princess with relentless intensity. He grabs her hair, yanking her head back at a painful angle that nonetheless makes her moan louder. His other hand comes down hard on her ass, leaving red handprints that bloom across her caramel skin.

"Tell him," Jafar demands, each word punctuated by a brutal thrust. "Tell your former lover who owns this cunt now."

"You do!" Jasmine screams, her body bouncing forward with each impact. "Only you, Sultan Jafar! Your cock owns me, rules me, defines me!"

Jafar shifts their position, flipping Jasmine onto her back without withdrawing from her body. The new angle allows everyone to see her face contorted in pleasure-pain, her breasts bouncing with each thrust, her legs spread wide to receive her master.

"Look at her," Jafar commands Aladdin, whose eyes remain fixed on the scene despite his obvious distress. "The proud princess of Agrabah, reduced to a moaning whore by my cock. She would betray her kingdom a thousand times over for one more night in my bed."

As if to prove his point, Jasmine's body begins to convulse, her back arching off the floor as an intense orgasm crashes through her. "JAFAR! MY SULTAN! MY GOD!" she screams, her inner walls clenching around his massive member, her juices flowing freely down her thighs and pooling on the marble floor.

Jasmine collapses beneath Jafar, her body slick with sweat, her limbs trembling with the aftershocks of her powerful orgasm. Her eyes, once sharp with wit and intelligence, now appear unfocused, glazed with the mindless satisfaction of a thoroughly fucked slave. Jafar withdraws from her with casual disdain, his massive cock still rigid, glistening with her juices. Aladdin watches with a mixture of horror and unwilling admiration—surely even Jafar must be spent after such a performance, surely there must be limits to his sexual power.

As if reading his thoughts, Jafar turns toward him with a knowing smirk. "You think I'm finished, street rat? That one princess could drain what I have to offer?" He laughs, the sound echoing through the chamber. "I've only just begun my demonstration."

With a dramatic flourish, Jafar raises one hand above his head. "Genie! Attend your master!"

The air shimmers with blue smoke, coalescing into a towering form that materializes before Jafar with a theatrical bow. The Genie—once Aladdin's most powerful ally—appears utterly transformed. His massive blue body gleams with an unnatural sheen, muscles rippling beneath his skin like waves on a midnight sea. But it's his expression that truly shocks Aladdin—gone is the mischievous glint, the barely contained rebellion. In its place is naked adoration, a hunger that seems to consume his entire being as he gazes at Jafar.

"Master," the Genie purrs, his voice deeper, huskier than Aladdin remembers. "How may I serve your magnificent cock today?"

Aladdin feels the last fragments of hope crumble within his chest. The Genie—all-powerful, bound only by the laws of cosmic magic—now speaks like a common whore, his eyes fixed on Jafar's erection with undisguised lust.

"My divine rod requires rejuvenation," Jafar announces, stroking himself lazily. "Make it harder, bigger, more irresistible to mortal wants."

"With pleasure, my Sultan," the Genie responds in a sexy, teasing voice, dropping to his knees. He crawls toward Jafar, his movements deliberately provocative, his massive blue ass swaying hypnotically with each advance. "Nothing would delight me more than to serve your godly appendage."

As the Genie reaches Jafar, he turns, presenting his ass to his master while looking over his shoulder with sultry invitation. "Shall I use my special talents, Master? The ones that make you throb with power?"

"Proceed," Jafar commands, his voice thick with anticipation.

Without further prompting, the Genie begins to rub his massive blue buttocks against Jafar's cock, creating a channel between his cheeks that engulfs the impressive member. His ass seems to have a life of its own, jiggling and bouncing as he grinds against his master, little sparks of magic emanating from each point of contact.

"Look at him," Jafar taunts Aladdin, his hands coming down to grip the Genie's hips, directing his movements. "The most magical being in the cosmos, and he lives to service my cock. Even without the lamp to bind him, he can't resist what I offer."

The Genie moans shamelessly, his back arching to better present himself to Jafar. "Your cock is better than freedom, Master. More intoxicating than cosmic power. I exist only to feel it inside me, against me, owning me."

Aladdin watches, transfixed by horror, as the Genie continues his magical ministrations. With each gyration of those blue hips, Jafar's already impressive member seems to grow, pulsing with an unnatural glow that speaks of power beyond mortal comprehension. The scent in the air changes, becoming headier, more intoxicating—a musky perfume that makes everyone in the chamber inhale deeply, their pupils dilating with renewed arousal.

"Even if I had not conquered you with my magic," Jafar continues, addressing Aladdin while gripping the Genie's hair roughly, "even if I had not bent your mind to my will, you could never hope to defeat me. My cock always gets what it wants. I have warped and mind-fucked even this cosmic entity until he begs for my seed…you think you wouldn’t have yearned for me in the palace dungeons, given me everything a sexy street-rat could give…you would have yielded your ass for me…for a fucking loaf of bread."

As if to demonstrate the truth of his words, the Genie turns his face to nuzzle against Jafar's thigh, whimpering with need. "Please, Master. Let me taste it. Let me feel it. Your mighty cock is all I think about, all I dream about."

"Not today, my pet," Jafar replies, pushing the Genie away with casual cruelty. "Today your magic serves a different purpose."

He gestures toward Jasmine, who still lies in a heap on the marble floor, her body marked with evidence of Jafar's rough handling. "Suspend her. In the air. On all fours. I want everyone to see what happens to princesses who defy me."

The Genie's expression flickers with momentary resistance—so brief that Aladdin might have imagined it—before his hands move in an elaborate gesture. Blue magic swirls around Jasmine's limp form, lifting her into the air and positioning her as Jafar commanded: suspended several feet above the ground, her body arranged on invisible hands and knees, her ass presented toward Jafar, her head hanging down so her dark hair cascades toward the floor.

She stirs from her post-orgasmic haze, realizing her new position with a mixture of fear and renewed arousal. "Sultan Jafar," she murmurs, her voice hoarse from screaming. "I can't... my body can't take more..."

"Your body takes what I give it," Jafar replies coldly, positioning himself behind her floating form. His cock, now enhanced by the Genie's magic, pulses with an otherworldly light, its size even more intimidating than before. It radiates heat and power, the very air around it shimmering with magical energy.

With a brutal thrust, he buries himself inside her once more, the force of his entry making her suspended body swing forward. Jasmine screams, the sound raw and primal, her hands clutching at empty air as her body is impaled on Jafar's enhanced member.

"Too much!" she cries, her voice breaking. "It's too powerful!"

"And yet you'll take every inch," Jafar growls, his hips pistoning with inhuman force. "Your cunt belongs to me, princess. Every hole in your body exists for my pleasure."

The Genie watches the scene with obvious arousal, his own massive erection jutting proudly from his blue body. His hands move in subtle gestures that adjust Jasmine's floating position to better accommodate Jafar's thrusts, his magic ensuring that she remains perfectly positioned for her master's use.

Aladdin can only stare in mute horror as the woman he once loved is used like a toy, suspended in mid-air by the magic of his former friend, her body stretched around a cock enhanced by cosmic power. The realization crashes over him like a wave: this is not a nightmare from which he might awaken. This is reality—Jafar's reality, where even the laws of nature bend to accommodate his twisted desires.

As Jafar continues to pound into Jasmine's suspended form, Aladdin feels a strange fog lifting from the corners of his mind. Memories—suppressed by Jafar's magic during his year of enslavement—begin to resurface in vivid, shameful detail. He remembers kneeling before Jafar's massive cock, his jaw aching as he struggled to accommodate its girth. He remembers being bent over the throne, biting his lip until it bled as Jafar claimed him with brutal thrusts. He remembers weeping with gratitude when Jafar would finally allow him release after days of denial.

The flood of recollections brings not horror but a terrible, insidious longing. His body remembers what his conscious mind had forgotten—the addictive pleasure of complete submission, the relief of surrendering all control to Jafar's dominant will. His cock hardens painfully against the thin fabric of his slave's garments, his skin flushing with unwanted arousal.

Before he can process these conflicting emotions, Aladdin finds himself moving, tearing at his rags with desperate fingers until he stands naked before the assembled court. His voice, when it emerges, belongs to a stranger—high, pleading, submissive.

"Please, Sultan Jafar," he begs, dropping to his knees, crawling toward his enemy, "I've been so bad. So very bad. I need…to be punished."

Jafar pauses mid-thrust, still buried deep within Jasmine's floating form, his eyes widening with delighted surprise. "What's this? The defiant street rat begging for my attention? My divine forgiveness…already?"

"I've been fighting you," Aladdin whimpers, pressing his forehead to the marble floor near Jafar's feet. "Fighting what I really am. What I really need. Please, use me. Hurt me. Show me my place."

"Tell me more about how you've been bad," Jafar purrs, withdrawing from Jasmine and allowing her to collapse into a heap on the floor, forgotten by master and onlookers as the mighty Sultan turns his full attention to this new entertainment.

Aladdin looks up, tears streaming down his face, his expression one of agonized need. "I've had impure thoughts, my Sultan. I've remembered what it was like before... when I defied you. When I thought I could stop you." His voice breaks. "I need my Sultan…oh fuck…I need my daddy to punish me for my wicked thoughts. I need you to fuck the resistance out of me until I remember who I truly am—your obedient cumslut."

A ripple of appreciative murmurs passes through the watching crowd. Jafar's smile grows wider, more predatory, as he approaches Aladdin's prostrate form. "Each year," he announces to the assembly, "I grant this one a day of clarity, a day to remember his former defiance." He grabs Aladdin by the hair, yanking his head back to expose his throat. "And each year, he breaks more quickly, more completely. Soon, there will be no need to lift the spell at all—his submission will be absolute, permanent."

The Genie floats closer, his massive blue body hovering just above the floor, eager to be close to his sweaty conqueror with his massive, magical cock, "Shall I prepare him for you, Master?" he offers eagerly. "Make him more... accommodating to your magnificent needs?"

"Indeed," Jafar agrees, dragging Aladdin to his feet. "Make him pretty for me, Genie. Make him perfect for my pleasure."

Blue magic swirls around Aladdin's naked form, reshaping him before the eyes of the assembly. His lips grow fuller, redder, parting slightly in a perpetual invitation. His waist narrows, creating a feminine curve that flows into widened hips. Most dramatically, his ass expands, becoming round and plump—an irresistible target for Jafar's attentions.

"Beautiful," Jafar murmurs, circling the transformed Aladdin, taking in his new proportions with hungry eyes. "Now bend over, street rat. Show everyone what you really are."

Aladdin complies instantly, bending at the waist and reaching back to spread his new, enhanced cheeks, exposing his hole to Jafar's gaze. "Please, my Sultan. Please use me. I'm yours. I've always been yours...daddy!"

Without further ceremony, Jafar positions himself behind Aladdin and thrusts forward, burying his magical cock to the hilt in one brutal movement. Aladdin screams—a sound of pain mingled with ecstasy—his transformed body accepting the invasion as though made for it.

"Mine," Jafar growls, establishing a punishing rhythm that has Aladdin rocking forward with each thrust. "Every inch of you. Every hole. Every thought."

As Jafar claims Aladdin before the entire court, the atmosphere in the chamber shifts, becoming even more charged with lust and abandon. The guards, the dancers, the former Sultan, Jasmine, the Genie—all watch with hungry eyes, their bodies tensing with anticipation, knowing that soon they too will be called upon to participate in their master's pleasure…an eternal, unquenchable pleasure that hurts as much as it excites.

“Now…It’s time I take what a true Sultan deserves.“ Jafar’s fingers snap.

All obey…

First, Jafar orders Jasmine and the former Sultan to kneel before him, their mouths open to receive his cock in alternating thrusts. Father and daughter, royalty reduced to sex objects, take turns gagging on his massive length while Aladdin licks and worships his balls from below. "The royal family of Agrabah," Jafar taunts, "united at last in service to their true ruler."

Next, he arranges the belly dancers in a writhing pyramid of flesh, their bodies stacked so their dripping cunts form a line for his pleasure. He fucks each in turn, spending only moments inside each woman before moving to the next, leaving them all desperate and unfulfilled unless they confess their total devotion to him in increasingly vulgar terms.

Jafar was nothing if not a showman. He relished each opportunity to orchestrate perverse new displays of dominance, always selecting his players and their positions for the greatest possible humiliation and spectacle. For his third demonstration, he called upon the two men who had, since the beginning, been thorns in his side—Razoul, the former captain of the guards, and Abubu, the street-born lout whose hapless attempts at rebellion had inspired so many fools.

Jafar's smile was a razor as he beckoned them forward, both men stripped to the skin and trembling before him. Razoul still bore the prideful glare of a man who once commanded legions, while Abubu's body was taut with fear and shame, his cock betraying his arousal in spite of his terror.

"You two have spent your lives in opposition," Jafar declared, projecting his voice to the farthest reaches of the throne hall, "each hunting the other, fighting like rabid dogs for a scrap of influence." He spat the words with withering contempt. "How poetic, then, that your destinies should converge here, as instruments for my pleasure—and reminders of your utter failure."

He circled them both, talon-like fingers tracing the curve of Razoul's burly arms, the trembling muscles of Abubu's thighs. Then, with a wave of his hand, he commanded: "Abubu, position yourself behind the captain. Razoul, grip the dais and prepare to receive the honor of being first in line for my cock."

The guardsman glowered, but the memory of Jafar's punishments—still fresh, still burning—was enough to cow him into submission. He knelt, bracing his hands on the cold stone as Jafar took up a position behind him, a predatory gleam in his eyes. Abubu stumbled forward, his face a mask of disbelief and humiliation as he awkwardly aligned himself behind Razoul, the head of his cock brushing against the captain's muscled, unwilling ass.

Jafar wasted no time. With a single, brutal thrust, he impaled Razoul, driving an animalistic howl from the man as his body arched in shock. "Tight as a sand viper's coil," Jafar purred, fisting a hand in Razoul's hair and yanking his head back. "You always were so desperate to prove yourself, captain. Now you can finally be useful for something other than failing at your post."

He began to piston his hips, establishing a relentless rhythm that left Razoul gasping, the great man's cock drooling helpless onto the throne's base as the shame of his subjugation became manifest for all to see. "Don't hold back," Jafar ordered Abubu, his voice a dark caress. "Let everyone see your true desires."

Abubu, at first hesitant, found himself drawn irresistibly into the motion of Jafar's conquest. Under the dark wizard's spell, he surged forward, his own cock plunging into Razoul's clutching heat. The sensation nearly undid him—he moaned aloud, his hands clutching the captain's hips for purchase, his entire body trembling with forbidden pleasure.

The court watched in rapt silence, the only sounds the slap of flesh and the humiliating symphony of their moans. Jafar wrapped his long arm around Razoul's chest, pinning him firmly in place, while with his free hand he reached back to fondle Abubu's balls, squeezing them with proprietary delight. "Do you feel that, captain? The street rat rutting you like a bitch in heat? What would your men say if they could see you now?"

Razoul bared his teeth, a guttural growl escaping him even as his cock throbbed, betraying his unwanted arousal. Jafar laughed, the sound deep and resonant. "You were made for this," he sneered, punctuating each word with a merciless thrust, "to serve as a vessel for my pleasure. No more, no less."

He slowed his rhythm, letting the moment stretch, savoring every tremor in the bodies beneath him. Then, with one final, titanic push, he slammed forward, burying himself to the base and unleashing a torrent of magic-infused seed into Razoul's core. The captain shuddered, his own cock spurting onto the stone as he came, broken and conquered, while Abubu collapsed behind him, spent and gasping.

Jafar withdrew with a flourish, letting Razoul slump to the ground, spent and ruined. "Remember this lesson," he intoned, voice echoing through the hall. "Defiance is always punished. Submission is always rewarded."

Sultan Jafar, seated on his throne, the Genie's mouth wrapped around his cock while Jasmine and the three belly dancers take turns sitting on the Genie's face, their release permitted only when they scream Jafar's name loud enough to satisfy his ego, and their wet, dripping pussy’s debasing the powerful Djinn. The Genie's magic ensures that his tongue can pleasure his manly master in ways no human could imagine, driving them to heights of ecstasy that leave them sobbing with gratitude.

Fifth, Jafar creates a circle of all his male slaves—guards, the former Sultan, and Aladdin—ordering them to masturbate while watching him fuck the Genie's massive blue ass Jafar needed no prompting to show off. He stood there, a red god among cringing men, his cock glistening with Genie’s spit as he pressed the tip against the blue giant’s eager, flexing hole. “You want this, slave?” Jafar asked, stroking his shaft with slow, arrogant delight.

“Oh Master, you have no idea,” Genie groaned, wiggling his ass like a chained dancer at court. “I’ve conjured a million delights, and none compare to your sultanate of dick. Please, give me more—I want to be split open by your greatness! Shove it in, you magical monarch of manhood!” He made a whining noise so obscene that even the most jaded harem guards shivered.

Jafar obliged, ramming his cock into Genie with merciless force. The impact echoed through the throne room, a wet, thunderous slap that made every spectator gasp. Genie howled, his whole body convulsing as red cock disappeared into glowing blue ass, inch after impossible inch. “By the seven sands!” Genie howled, voice warbling with ecstasy and disbelief. “You’re thicker than a war elephant, boss! I could grant three wishes with just the memory of this pounding!”

Jafar worked his hips like an engine of conquest, pounding Genie with the relentless rhythm of a siege battering at a city gate. His hands gripped the Genie’s massive thighs, spreading them so wide that the tendons stretched and creaked. “You like that, you overgrown lamp lizard?” Jafar taunted, his sweat-slicked body shining with exertion. “You ever been fucked so hard you wished for mercy?”

Genie’s eyes rolled back. “More, Master! Ram me like I’m hiding your final wish! Show them all who rules the impossible!” He flexed his ass, milking Jafar with supernatural precision, his own giant cock leaking helplessly onto the marble. “Fuck the magic out of me, Sultan! Make my ass the true throne of Agrabah!”

The men in the circle watched, cocks in hand, unable to look away from the spectacle—the way Genie’s ass devoured every inch, the way Jafar’s balls slapped blue skin, the way both of them seemed to glow with forbidden, ecstatic power. Jafar took full advantage of his audience, holding Genie’s hips and pistoning into him with demands for praise, which Genie delivered in a constant stream of worship and innuendo.

“Your cock is rewriting the rules of the universe, Master!” Genie babbled, “With every thrust, I forget a thousand years of freedom—I want nothing but you inside me, forever! Please, Sultan, mark me! Make me your monument to utter submission! Give me a cumshot so big I’ll see it every time I close my eyes!” He squirmed desperately, moaning and shuddering as Jafar drove him closer to the edge.

Jafar pulled Genie’s head back by the ponytail and bent down to hiss in his ear, “You’re nothing but a fuck toy, Genie. My fuck toy. And you’re going to show every soul here how a real man finishes.” The slap of flesh on flesh filled the air, the pace accelerating as Jafar’s eyes gleamed with sadistic joy.

None are permitted to cum until Jafar has finished, resulting in a chorus of desperate pleas and promises of eternal devotion as they struggle to hold back their release.

Jafar orders the former Sultan on all fours, the once-proud ruler now serving as a human table upon which Jafar bends Jasmine over. As he pounds into the princess from behind, her breasts swinging with each thrust, he forces her to recite all the ways in which she has betrayed her former values for the pleasure of his cock. Her father, beneath her, kisses Jafar's feet throughout the entire degrading confession, knowing his Kingdom has found it’s new ruler…and Jasmine was serving her true daddy.

Jafar could hardly believe the spectacle thrashing itself into being before his eyes. Jasmine and Abubu, stripped and dripping, writhed together on the furred rug before the throne, their plush asses bouncing in tandem as each strove to outdo the other, desperate for their sultan’s attention—more crucially, his cock. The rivalry had begun as a petty back-and-forth of insults and posturing, but under Jafar’s relentless gaze it had evolved, blossomed, and then curdled into a brutal, high-stakes contest of debauchery.

Abubu, ever the gutter rat, was the first to escalate beyond mere words: “Bet you wish Daddy would take a real man’s ass for once, huh Princess?” he sneered, twisting his hips and grinding his bare cheeks against Jasmine’s, the friction leaving them both flushed and leaking onto the silk. Jasmine fired back with a snarl, flipping her hair and slapping her own ass for emphasis. “Jafar wouldn’t waste a drop on street trash like you. You even know how to work a cock, or do you just get fucked by camels in the marketplace?”

Jafar, perched on his throne like a serpent poised to strike, watched with hooded, lascivious eyes. His cock jutted out imposingly, still slick from Genie’s earlier worship, and he let it throb in plain view, a trophy and a threat both. The harem’s attention was fixed on the spiraling contest below, the air buzzing with the sound of obscene taunts and flesh on flesh.

“Only thing better than humiliating a princess,” Abubu grunted, “is doing it while I’m balls-deep in her favorite sultan.” Without waiting for permission, he crawled onto Jafar’s lap, impaling himself on the crimson spear with a gasp and a shudder. Jasmine shrieked in outrage, then dove onto the other thigh, wrapping her legs around Jafar’s waist and grinding her pussy against the base of his shaft while Abubu rode the upper length. The collision of their bodies was a riot of sweat and oil, their voices rising in a duet of filthy, competitive praise for the man between them.

“Fuck! He’s stretching you open, isn’t he? That’s all you’re good for, Abubu—taking it like a little bitch,” Jasmine spat, raking her nails down his back and shoving herself higher on Jafar’s cock so the next thrust would punish them both. Abubu, not to be outdone, gritted his teeth and started bouncing with wild abandon, making sure each time he slammed down, Jasmine was forced to take the full brunt of Jafar’s girth grinding into her clit.

Jafar, thoroughly entertained, tilted his head and addressed the crowd. “Look at them. Look how they debase themselves for the privilege of my cock. Perhaps a little incentive will further stoke their spirits.” He clapped, and instantly the nearest slaves brought him amphorae of perfumed oil, which he poured generously over the writhing pair, making their bodies glisten and slide more easily against each other. The oil seeped into every crease and fold, the room filling with the scent of spices and desperate, animal lust.

Jasmine turned the tide by reaching down and stroking Abubu’s cock as they rode together, squeezing until the boy’s eyes rolled back. “You want to come before me? You think Jafar would allow that?” she taunted, pumping him mercilessly. The threat of orgasm, denied and dangled, drove Abubu to new heights of frenzy—he dug his nails into Jasmine’s hips and bit her shoulder, the pain only spurring her on.

“You’re not winning, Princess, you’re just getting fucked harder!” he grunted. The words were a challenge straight to Jafar, who grinned and grabbed Jasmine by the throat, pulling her tight against his chest.

“Who’s my better slut?” Jafar hissed in Jasmine’s ear, his other hand wrapping around Abubu’s waist to guide both of them up and down his shaft in a perfectly synchronized rhythm. “Tell me why you deserve my seed, and maybe I’ll reward you.”

The contest became a blur of ass and pussy, of clashing egos and writhing, desperate flesh. Jasmine, face flushed and eyes wild, screamed, “I need it, I need you to fill me, please Jafar, I’ll be your princess of whores! Use me, ruin me, I’ll say anything, I’ll do anything, just cum in me!” Not to be outdone, Abubu howled, “Fuck me harder, I want everyone to see I can take more than any sultan or street rat in the city—fill me with your magic, make me your favorite slut!”

The crowd was whipped into a frenzy, chanting and cackling as Jasmine and Abubu competed to see who could debase themselves more completely, who could inspire the Sultan to finish first inside them. Jafar let the pressure build, his fingers digging bruises into their skin, sweat waterfalling from his brow as the need to conquer—truly, and absolutely—overtook him.

With a snarl, he shoved Abubu and Jasmine down to the rug, lined up his cock, and hammered himself first into Jasmine’s cunt and then, without warning, into Abubu’s ass, pistoning between them with a violence that bordered on the supernatural. The oil made every thrust squelch and spatter, their holes gaping and quivering as Jafar alternated, neither knowing where he would strike next. The pleasure was so overwhelming Jasmine actually burst into tears, sobbing and shaking with the force of her own orgasm, while Abubu screamed himself hoarse as Jafar’s dick battered him open, one brutal inch after another.

“Who wants it more?” Jafar roared, his voice echoing off the cavernous ceiling. They both crawled to his feet, kneeling side by side and opening their mouths in perfect sync, their faces glazed with oil and streaked with sweat and tears, tongues lolling, begging for his cum. “You’re both perfect little holes,” he sneered, stroking their faces with his cock, “but only one gets the first taste.”

He painted their cheeks with precum, making a show of choosing. Jasmine whimpered, “Please, Daddy—please!” and Abubu nodded desperately, “I’ll do anything, Master, anything!” The crowd held its breath.

Jafar grabbed them both by the hair and unloaded, spraying his royal seed across their tongues, their faces, their chests. Jasmine gulped it down greedily, and Abubu tried to lick every stray drop from Jasmine’s chin, desperate not to miss a taste. The two collapsed into each other, limbs trembling, cum and sweat and oil smearing them together until the difference between princess and street rat was obliterated.

Jafar leaned back on the throne, exhausted and triumphant, savoring the sight of his two favorite rivals reduced to quivering, cum-soaked messes at his feet. Then, with a lazy snap of his fingers, he summoned the Genie to clean them up, the blue giant appearing instantly and bending to lap the last streaks of Sultan’s seed from Jasmine’s cleavage and Abubu’s gaping mouth.

Jafar let them recover only a moment before gesturing imperiously to the rest of his slaves. “Line up,” he commanded, his voice hoarse but dangerous as ever. “We’re far from finished.”

For most elaborate demonstration, Jafar arranges all of his slaves in concentric circles around him—the inner circle on their knees, mouths open; the outer circle bent over, asses presented. With the Genie's magical assistance, Jafar's cock grows to impossible proportions, allowing him to move from slave to slave, sampling each mouth and hole in turn while the others beg for their chance to receive him…the magic obeys Jafar, making him fuck and take everything his sick, twisted mind can imagine.

For most elaborate demonstration, Jafar arranges all of his slaves in concentric circles around him—the inner circle on their knees, mouths open; the outer circle bent over, asses presented. With the Genie's magical assistance, Jafar's cock grows to impossible proportions, allowing him to move from slave to slave, sampling each mouth and hole in turn while the others beg for their chance to receive him…the magic obeys Jafar, making him fuck and take everything his sick, twisted mind can imagine.

"This," Jafar announces to Aladdin as the young man writhes beneath him, transformed body accepting every punishing thrust with eager whimpers, "is true power. Not the simple domination of bodies, but the complete ownership of minds and souls. Look around you, street rat. Everyone you sought to protect, everyone you loved—they now exist solely for my pleasure."

And as Aladdin gazes through tear-filled eyes at the debauched spectacle surrounding them—Abubu, slave to Sultan Jafar, prays towards his master…shaking his hot ass hoping it will be fucked hard next.