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Jafar enslaves Feminist Prime Minister Jasmine	By : jafar073 Category: +1 through F > Aladdin (Disney) > Aladdin (Disney) Views: 7700 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Aladdin, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-The fall of the Feminist Republic of Agrabah
- 1
Jasmine had been elected the first woman Prime Minister of Agrabah on a platform of women’s rights and equality. This was not something the traditionalist theocratic Middle Eastern nation had been used to. But the time for change had come. The former Vizier Jafar had led the opposition of the conservative fundamentalist Islamist clergy. They were outraged by Prime Minister Jasmine’s crimes against the natural order. They hated seeing the beautiful young woman in a pantsuit leading their sacred emirate. She was transforming Agrabah into a Feminist Republic.
Jafar had been able to secure a meeting with Prime Minister Jasmine of Agrabah. She had not wanted to meet with the misogynist cleric, but he represented powerful Agrabah interests so she could not ignore him.
“We are a traditional people Princess, these Feminist ideas of equality have no place in Agrabah. We want to live how our grandfathers lived. This is how its always been” Jafar began to lecture her
“Don’t call me Princess. I’m your Prime Minister”.
“Prime Minister is a western infidel title, not proper for a proper Agrabah lady such as yourself. I know you come from one of the finest Agrabah bloodlines. The daughter of Sultans. Princess is so much more suited to a woman of your power and status”.
“What do you want Jafar?”
“You know how the traditionalist fundamentalist clergy have had problems with your feminist cultural reforms and socialist land reform? Perhaps there could be peace in Agrabah if you would at least choose a suitor. An unmarried young woman leading our Emirate. It is too much for our Old Sheiks. It is bad enough that your political polices turn Agrabah upside down. You don’t need to spit in the face of the old men with your personal life as well”.
“How dare you. It is not the Middle Ages anymore not even in Agrabah! I’m not some royal princess for the Sultan to marry off for gold. Those ages have passed. I’m a progressive Feminist Prime Minister and I will bring Agrabah into the modern age. It is disgusting that who I’m to share a bed with, sleep with, and make love with is even a topic of political discussion”.
“My dear Princess...ahhh Prime Minister Jasmine, I did mean anything so intimate and lewd. It is simply hard for our Agrabah people to accept a married young woman as leader. On top of everything else. We are a traditional people. We like the old ways. We followed the El Khalizad, the old books of Almazareesh. The manuals of Abdul. It laid down the ways of women. How the feminine essence must serve the masculine….”
“Enough Jafar! If the Agrabah people really felt this way, they would not have elected me Prime Minister. You talk of the old men. We are a nation of young women too! And I lead for them. You dare mention books like the Alzashad in my presence? It says that uppity women like me need to be whipped and spanked into submission to please the Old Gods of the Hazarad. Is that what you wish for Jafar? To spank your Prime Minister? Get the hell out of my office”.
“You will regret this severely Princess” Jafar scowled. “You could have been a Princess. But I see now you are fit to be nothing but a slave as Al Shameth advised. You laugh at it as a joke. But mark my words you will kneel in chains. This is still Agrabah. This is how uppity women have always been dealt with. I don’t care if this is the ‘modern age’. The old ways have always ruled her in our desert.”
This was the last political meeting Prime Minister Jasmine and Vizier Jafar would have to have. Until the coup and civil war. The traditionalist Islamists in the military were troubled by the rapid rate of Jasmine’s feminist and socialist reforms. Her economic policies anger the traditional Islamic clergy and their large landholdings. But her Feminist policies were even more invasive in their eyes. Making their own wives and daughters uppity against them. It was so personal, inside the family. Every uppity woman was blamed on Prime Minister Jasmine personally. Jafar was able to united the various factions against Jasmine. Making rabble-rousing speeches against her Marxist-Feminist Revolution and warning of the spread of Communism to Agrabah. He claimed that Jasmine’s end goal was a Feminist Communist Republic of Agrabah. Of radical equality, with young women imposing a dictatorship over men and pushing them around.
The military attempted to seize power in a coup. But Prime Minister Jasmine showed my courage and heart then they had expected in a woman. While the Jafarists seized the Agrabah countryside with great rapidity, she was able to keep control of the urban center, where the more educated intellectual people lived. She created legions of Agrabah Feminist Amazon warriors, made completely out of young women soldiers. She made fiery speeches promising never to surrender. But after a decisive battle Jafar was able to encircle and capture the entire Amazon legion. He knew how personally Jasmine felt about her warrior sisters. He threatened them with horrible abuse and torture if Jasmine did not surrender. Had the military situation been better, perhaps Jasmine would have kept her promise to fight to the death. But with Agrabah city on the verge of falling anyway, she decided to spare her sisters the horrible fate.
With tears in her eyes Prime Minister Jasmine made her last speech to the Feminist Senate of Agrabah admitting that further resistance was futile. A gloating smiling Vizier Jafar stood at her side. The Feminist Republic of Agrabah was no more, the Emirate Patriarchy had been restored. Armed Jafarists now stormed into the Feminist Senate hall.
Lead by Prime Minister Jasmine herself, all the Feminist Senators had to strip off their professional pantsuits down to their bra and panties underwear. Jasmine was so humiliated to strip off her pants in a place she had made her name as a politician, and made promises of radical equality for women. Now this would be the place she became a slave to Jafar and his backward misogynist medieval ways. He would take Agrabah back into the Dark Ages. A country that had once known a Feminist Republic would now be put under the strictest misogyny of the Al Hazard slave manual for training women.
After only a week of slave-training in Jafar’s harem, Prime Minister Jasmine could feel the strains on her body, mind and heart. Many of her Feminist sisters had already broken under the whip and erotic humiliation. Politicians, revolutionaries, militants, guerrillas, soldiers, intellectuals, teachers, professors, philosophers. The best women of Agrabah. All had begun to break under the strain. To accept their new place in life as love slaves to Jafar. To accept the traditional place of Agrabah women of 1000 years ago.
“It pains me to see you reduced to this Princess” Jafar said mockingly as he spit the apple right into Jasmine’s beautiful tearful face
Her chained hands offered him the apple. She hated playing the role of a slave. But just a week of slave-training had taught her to pick her battles. It wasn’t worth a whipping to preserve the small dignities.
Slave Lingerie was an act of cruel brilliance on the part of Jafar. It was hard for the Feminist Revolutionaries to maintain dignity, while dressed in the most erotic outfits imaginable. Their unmentionables permanently exposed. After being stripped of the rather boring plain white bra and panties they wore under their pantsuits. The Feminist politicians had been forced into luscious lingerie. It was their only choice rather than going nude. Only a wanton whore would want to be naked in front of her captors. So of course all the ex-rebels put on their slave lingerie. They wanted their intimate private parts covered. But slave lingerie had a way of accentuating revealing rather than concealing their beautiful feminine bodies. The lovely bodies they had kept hidden under pantsuits and military uniforms to be taken seriously as Revolutionary Feminists.
Just as Jasmine was reflecting on the power of slave lingerie to psychologically break rebel women, the thought crossed the cruel Jafar’s mind as well.
“I believe my dear slave Princess, that Red slave lingerie suits you. The Red Flag of the Feminist Socialist Republic. Perhaps you wish to take off the Red panties shielding your most intimate treasure, and wave it as your Red Communist flag? The only flag you will now know. Don’t you want to wave your red panties flag of feminist revolution?”
Jasmine’s hazel eyes glowed with a fiery red anger as red as her lingerie and spanked butt cheeks.
“You’ve destroyed everything I’ve ever believed in, crushed my ideas and hopes, killed my loved ones. Haven’t you hurt me enough? Now you must play these games to hurt and humiliate me. Why didn’t you just kill me?”
“Kill you my dear? Why you are my Princess , Jasmine. You will marry me and be my Princess and bare me many children. And the Jasmine lineage will rule the restored and traditional patriarchal Agrabah loyal the Old Ways. Who needed all your revolutionary feminism? Being a woman is not so bad is it now? Even when you lose, and lose bad. Are utterly crushed and defeated. Unlike a man, your story does not end in a simple death. You can still rise to be a harem mistress. A Princess. Your children can still live like royalty. This is ‘defeat’ for a beautiful woman”
“But my ideals!”
“Women have no ideals. As the Al Shabul of 1000 years ago already knew, you live to surrender. But your bloodline always live on in defeat”.
Jasmine pouted and bit her lip. She was furious. But her cute insolent pouting looked adorable to Jafar.
“This isn’t exactly the best conditions to be having a philosophical debate about Feminism vs Islamic Patriarch is it now Jafar? With me chained, whipped, abused, half naked standing in my underwear and you the absolute ruler of me and Agrabah. You refused all my challenges to debate me as an equal back when I had my pantsuit on.”
Jasmine had finished her little defiant speech with a glow of arrogance, quickly followed by a face of fear as she recovered her dignity. She hadn’t shown such open defiance in days. But Jafar knew how to meddle the Feminist revolutionary in her to rebel. Sometimes he deliberately baited her into revolution, so that he could sadistically crush her, adding to her humiliation. Sometimes he played along in debating her. Her being chained and in slave lingerie always put a damper on the Feminist side of the debate.
He began to slowly approach the chained Feminist Revolutionary slave. She winced in her chains not sure what was coming next.
She received a hard kiss as his snake-like tongue invaded her Feminist Prime Minister soft warm mouth. Biting hard down on her red revolutionary lips. He cupped and squeezed her red-panty clad buttocks. Also red skinned from all the whippings and spankings.
Jasmine’s mind was overwhelmed by the twin invasions. The kissing was so intimate and humiliating. And her buttocks besides the erotic implications, exploded in pain at the rough squeezing. The whipping scars had not begun to heel. She couldn’t help it and cried out in pain.
“Is something wrong Jasmine” asked Jafar in mock concern, delighting in getting the enslaved Feminist Revolutionary to talk about her abused butt.
“You know it hurts me down there” she said weakly.
“You asked me to just kill you earlier” boasted Jafar mockingly “you know many of my advisors have told me to do so. They think you are still a danger. A revolutionary marxist-feminist threat to Agrabah Patriarchy. A symbol, a rallying cry. As long as Jasmine remains alive, you are dangerous, they say. You will lead the Communist Feminist Revolution that unseats the Emirate.”
Jasmine’s face blushed as red as her “flag” as she was reminded of the threat she was supposed to be to the man dominating her in every possible way.
“What do you say slave? Are you still a threat to me, when you have to beg me not to grab your thong-clad arse too hard, as the scars of my whip are still healing?”
- 1
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Jafar enslaves Feminist Prime Minister Jasmine