Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Princess Jasmine had an issue. What was that issue? It was that her love, her everything Aladdin, had been gone for several days. Apparently some “old friends” had become a problem and he, Genie, Iago and Abu had went to go deal with it. The Genie kept her informed and now they were in the middle of the desert tracking down a breadcrumb trail. Like I said, she has a problem, the hole in her heart was only matched by the hole in her vagina.

As long as she could remember, the princess was stuffing her holes with whatever she could find whether it be jewelry, brushes, fruit, etc it didn’t matter, as long as she was filled the the brim and stuffed. It wasn’t her fault, some people were just born with a libido as high as hers. And that libido led to he lying on her giant, luxurious bed, furiously shoving the handle of a brush inside her leaking womanhood while her other hand played with her nipples. Her moans quickened, muscles tensed and she squirted all over he soaked handle. She pulled the brush out and started at her ceiling, this was the fifth time today and nothing helped. With Aladdin she could have sex whenever or even wherever she wanted but now, she was alone, and she needed to think of something..

She had planned of a couple schemes, first was to sneak out in disguise to a brothel and have a field day but that wouldn’t work as her father had become increasingly paranoid since Jafars attempted takeover. Privately purchasing a sex toy but that would never get past the guards. These were the only two that had gotten anywhere. “Hmmph guards.” Her mind began to wonder, and it locked on the head of the guards, her father’s long time friend Razoul..

What a man he was as well, he has climbed his way up the hierarchy to Head of the Guards around when she was born. He was a huge brooding man, over 6’0 tall to Jasmines modest 5’5. He had a body that was forged from labor and constant battle, with muscles you could only get from constant training and fighting. He wore a sleeveless loose tunic that left nothing to the imagination. Being cut off at the shoulders emphasized his massive, bulging arms with biceps that could be larger then her head and his open front showcased a pair of massive, hairy, pectorals which were so large they slightly hung over on his chest. She had even seen him pop it with near earthquake like intensity. She could even see the top of his thick bumpy abs with a line of hair leading down. There was no need to imagine what was down there as even in his loose dhoti pants couldn’t hide his massive shlong. It always appeared soft and even then it could easily be six or seven inches with huge grapefruit sized balls..

Ever since Jasmine was a girl she had always had an eye on him. Yes he may be twice her age, yes she was only 16, yes he’s close to being a second father to her, yes he did almost kill her boyfriend several times, but all that went out the door when she saw his muscles clench and flex while training, sweat dripping everywhere and the scent getting caught in her nostrils, it didn’t matter..

Thinking about her love was getting too much to bare, she had to have him, she had held it back for 16 years but she had reached her breaking point. Jasmine was far from bad looking herself, as a matter of fact she was the most beautiful in the land. Her eyes was huge and expansive on her face with powerful brown pupils in them. Her hair was completely black contrasting her soft, olive colored skin which was smooth as butter. She had a gracefully thin torso with a waist that was near comically thin, which was made even more clear when she had a massive set of tits and huge ass above and below. Her ass was deliciously supple and round, bouncing endlessly at every movement and her breasts were no better. Her tops only managed to stay up because her massive mammeries pushed them up. Larger than her own head they were topped off with fat protruding brown nipples. It was ridiculous how they were so large yet stayed perfectly round on her chest. One of her favorite past times was to use her collection of exotic creams and lotions to gently rub and massage her breasts, she could easily find herself spending an hour masturbating using her tits by squeezing the pleasure points in them and pinching her nipples. Last but not least her wide hips lead way to thick thighs that left no gap between them whatsoever. Her body was shaped just like the hourglass she had once been trapped in.

She got her assets from her mother and she was all the more thankful for it as getting attention from men, especially princes, who had no shot openly ogle her was one of the best parts of being a famous princess. No man could resist her, not even Razoul. She began preparing, first taking out the ties in her hair and putting only one in, making it go up and loop back down just like it had in her slave outfit. Speaking of the slave outfit, while Jafars attempt on her had been horrific, it did reveal to her a new type of outfit somehow skimpier then her blue one, thus she had gotten one practically the same yet it was a maroon as opposed to blood red like the old one. It seemed she has grown since she last wore it as her panties could barely climb up her ass and her top was more of a cover for her nipples as it couldn’t cover the entirety of her chest, even sinking in. Jasmine looked in the mirror, putting her hands on her tiny waist and doing a show for herself. “He won’t be able to resist me.” She thought.

It was night so the place was empty, the only noise was he feet tattering around. Eventually she made her way to Razouls chambers, it was an unusually hot night and while her room was cool thanks to the huge balcony, his was not so lucky as it had no windows but Jasmine wouldn’t complain as the sight was magnificent. He was leaning back in his chair, shirt opened wider then normal and it was drenched with sweat, massive pecs heaving up and down and cock hanging straight up like a tree. Jasmine licked her thick lips and sultry walked in. “Ah Razoul.” She said as slutty as she could. “Oh, my princess!” He stuttered standing up and bowing, trying to hide his erection at the same time. “I came here to tell you I thought I heard something wrong but everything seems to be just fine.” She said walking closer. Razoul began panicking as she was only a couple strides from him. “Yes I was just finishing up on some things about to go to bed, I’ll check back in with you tomorrow.” He said trying to scramble away. Jasmine grabbed his bicep obviously feeling him up. “What’s the rush? Am I not allowed to visit my favorite guard, I can’t believe you’d turn me away after all we’ve been through.” She said fake sobbing and turning around to put her rump on his cock. “Uh no not at all it’s just that I’m very tired is all princess.” Jasmine smirked. “Then you’ll be exhausted when we’re done.” She whispered into his ear and licked his ear.

She heard his voice get caught in his throat and she took the moment to start dragging him through the door. “I’ve been so lonely lately and I just need some company is all, you cannot lie and say you do not want me.” She grabbed one of his hands and put it on one of her giant breasts instinctively feeling it up. She began grinding against his cock and turned around and kissed his neck. “Your goal is to serve me and I order you to grant my wish.” He didn’t say anymore but she knew she got him.

They began scurrying towards Jasmines room and when they got there, she locked the door and began making out with Razoul. She let him take over, signaling she wanted him to have control and he responded by pushing into her more and his large hand grabbed her waist, nearly wrapping around it. Jasmine pressed her breasts against his body and felt her soft flesh mold into his hardened body. Razoul releases her waist and grabbed her panties and ripped it off with ease making Jasmine moan. They continued to make out as they walked over to the bed and when they got there they separated and Jasmine removed his shirt and admired his body once again. She grabbed his left pec and flicked his nipple with her thumb and started sucking on his neck. When a mark was left she separated and pushed him into the bed and rubbed her hands over his abs and started kissing each individual one. As her tongue went across the crevices and could taste the sweat that had gotten caught in them and his hair. When she had left tongue marks over his torso and licked her lips and motioned to help removed his pants. When she did his massive meat stick nearly hit her in the face only barely dodging. He eyes widened as her pupils dilated as she saw it twitch with attention. It was eleven inches long and accordingly thick and the musk that radiated off it started fogging Jasmines brain.

She rubbed her cheek against it and started licking the side. Razoul lost any sense of responsibility at this point, if the Sultan saw this he would have his head but atleast he would go out with a bang, having sex an overly endowed Princess. Jasmine eyed it up and frowned. “I can’t make it fit.” She said. “Then you’ll make it fit.” Razoul said bluntly taking a hand in her thick hair and pushing her all the way down to his pubes. Jasmines eyes popped out as the air was knocked out of her body, but even through this she didn’t try raising up. Razoul pulled her back up and pushed her back down creating a rhythm. Jasmines face and eyes started getting red as she couldn’t breath and while panicking started breathing through her nose and calmed down, taking back control of the rhythm. Razoul took his hand out of her hand and reached back and grabbed one of her ass cheeks and gripped it, and felt it wobble around in his hand. Jasmine looked up and looked at him desperately with her huge eyes. Razoul only looked down and grinned as his hand began to feel up her soaking wet pussy. Razouls cock began leaking out precum and it started mixing with Jasmines spit and the sloppy sounds started filling the room.

Jasmine slowly rose her head from her meal and startled digging her tongue around the slit, then she grabbed one of his swollen balls, fondled it around, and sucked it into her mouth. She started stroking his cock and the spit and precum serving as lube. Razouls whole body started twitching as she was taking him to entire new levels of pleasure and even his brain didn’t know what to do with it, and it didn’t take long for him to feel an orgasm coming. Jasmine could feel it churning inside her mouth but couldn’t react fast enough to catch it and Razouls load shot out like a geyser and it went all over Jasmines bed and into her hair. She popped up in surprise but Razoul has something in mind.

First he started by starting another make out and as he did, he reached his hand down Jasmines deep cleavage and ripped off her top and her breasts bounced with freedom. He stopped the make out and focused on her tits, grabbing the right one and watching as his hand disappeared. Jasmine smiled as she began to tease. “If I’d known you were so easy to coax into what I want I would’ve seduced you earlier.” She said slyly. “It would’ve worked, you’ve always been so sexy.” He said right before latching his mouth on her left nipple. His teeth grazed against her left nipple before he gently bit down on it, taking it between his teeth and shaking his head around violently, them stopping and just started sucking as hard as he could as if milk would come out. His ministrations were making her nipples swollen but he kept alternating between licking and sucking on each of her big, brown, nipples until he squeezed both of her mounds together in his hands so he could lavish both nipples at once with his mouth. He was addicted to her flavor and he just couldn't seem to get enough of her intoxicating taste. Jasmine had her head back, moaning loudly as her sensitive tits were roughly sucked and squeezed. Razoul dug his face in between them and motorboated until he couldn’t breath and pulled up.

He lifted her from the bed and put her between his legs and she knew what to do. She arched her back so her tits lifted up and she pushed them against Razouls meat stick and he immediately groaned. “Do my breasts feel good my love? I keep them in such good condition dont I?” She pushed them together against Razouls cock, perfectly enveloping it, and she started slowly stroking him. Razoul started twitching, the princesses titty fuck was even better then her blowjob. Due to his job, Razoul could rarely ever able relieve himself either it be sex or just jerking off, so the feeling of the warm flesh pillows milking his sensitive cock was incredible.The softness of her jugs made Razoul moan in satisfaction. She had him sandwiched in between her lumps, the tightness of her cleavage driving him wild. "Keep going, baby," he grunted, already close to reaching his climax. He would have already cum by now but she was moving him up and down in between her tits too slowly. Getting impatient, he reached out and cupped her breasts with his own hands, forcing them to bounce up and down faster so he could get jerked off at just the right pace. He started being so rough with her bosoms that he made them sore, Jasmine didn’t mind, in fact she liked him taking full control. Jasmine started sucking the small portion of his cock not covered by her breast’s to coax him into cumming, which worked.

Semen fired out of his tip like a fountain, Jasmine tightened her lips and sucked in as hard as she could to bring as much as could out of the muscular man’s balls. To prolong the duration of his orgasm, he pressed her tits even tighter together and continued to slide his member in between the crevice of her chest, unloading more of himself into her hungry mouth. After almost ten seconds he stopped and Jasmine shut her eyes, pulled up and scooped the clumps that remained on her chest into her mouth.

When she opened her eyes she saw Razoul lustily breathing, with his still erect cock high in the air. “Enough fore-play, get on your hands and knees.” He ordered and Jasmine obeyed. As soon as she did, Razoul slapped her ass as hard as he could watching it jiggle like crazy. He put both of his hands on her tiny waist and she knew what was coming. She felt his huge cock head begin to enter her pussy before stopping. “Fuck, you’re tight.” He said before pushing in with more force. Jasmine felt herself being impaled, Aladdin was only half Razouls length and width and he was the biggest she’s ever taken. Oh fuck, Razoul!” She cried, her voice breaking, her fingers clawing at the sheets. “It’s too much… you’re splitting me apart!”

“Relax,” he growled, his hands tightening on her hips, holding her steady as he sank deeper. “You’re gonna adjust.”

Her pussy stretched wide, burning with the effort, but the pain quickly blurred into a dizzying wave of pleasure as he buried himself fully, his cock kissing her cervix. Jasmines body shuddered, her walls fluttering around him, struggling to grip his girth. She felt impossibly full, every nerve alight, her mind reeling from the sensation. Jasmine held still for a moment, letting her catch her breath, his own chest heaving with restraint.

Then he moved.

He pulled back slowly, dragging his cock along her sensitive walls, before thrusting forward again, hard enough to make her ass ripple. Jasmine moaned, her voice rising in pitch, her tits bouncing wildly beneath her. Razoul found his rhythm, starting slow but steadily picking up speed, each thrust deeper, more forceful. The room filled with the lewd symphony of their bodies plap, plap, plap her thick ass clapping against his pelvis, the wet squelch of her pussy swallowing his cock

Razoul grunted, his hands sliding up to grip her ass cheeks, spreading them apart to watch his shaft disappear into her dripping hole.

Jasmines moans escalated into screams, her body rocking with each brutal thrust. “Yes! Harder, Razoul!” she begged, her voice raw. “Fuck me like a slut!”

His blood surged, his eyes narrowing with feral intent he even grabbed her hair in one hand and pulled on it like horse reigns. He slapped her ass hard, the sharp crack echoing, leaving a stinging red handprint on her pale skin. Jasmine yelped, her pussy clenching tighter, her juices dripping down her thighs. “You like that?” Razoul snarled, spanking her again. “You like being my dirty little whore?”

“Fuck yes!” she screamed, her mind fraying at the edges. “I’m yours, Razoul! Use me!”

He unleashed himself fully, pounding her with savage intensity, his balls slapping her clit with every thrust. Her screams filled the room, high and desperate, her body trembling under the assault.The pleasure was too much her pussy spasmed, her first orgasm ripping through her, soaking his cock with her release.

But Razoul wasn’t done. He wanted her broken, claimed completely. With a rough shove, he pushed her flat onto her stomach, her legs splaying wide, her ass slightly raised beneath him. The transition to prone bone was seamless he mounted her from behind, his muscular frame pinning her to the mattress, his cock sliding back into her soaked pussy with a wet schlick. The angle drove him deeper, his tip grinding against her cervix, sending shockwaves through her core.
“Oh God, Razoul,” Jasmine whimpered, her face buried in the pillow, muffling her cries. “You’re so fucking deep… I can feel you in my womb…”

“That’s the point,” he growled, his voice thick with dominance. “I’m gonna breed you, your majesty.”
He thrust slow and hard, each stroke deliberate, making her feel every inch of his monstrous cock. His weight pressed her into the bed, trapping her, leaving her helpless beneath him. As Razoul pounded into her, Jasmines fat ass jiggled with every thrust, the soft, juicy flesh bouncing and rippling under the force of his hips. The sight was intoxicating her cheeks quivered with each impact, the rhythmic plap, plap, plap of skin meeting skin echoing through the room. The jiggling intensified with his pace, her ass shaking wildly, the motion a mesmerizing dance of flesh that fueled his lust. He couldn’t tear his eyes away, watching how the waves rolled across her curves, her plump cheeks clapping softly against each other.

“By Allah, your ass…” Razoul muttered, voice hoarse with arousal. He gave her a firm slap, the sharp crack making her ass wobble even more, sending a jolt through his cock as her pussy clenched tighter around him. “It jiggles so fucking good.”

Jasmine moaned into the pillow, her cries muffled but desperate, the sensation of her ass bouncing adding a new layer to her pleasure. Each jiggle sent tingles racing up her spine, the relentless motion amplifying the heat building inside her. “Jasmine… oh fuck…” she whimpered, her hands fisting the sheets as her body rocked beneath him. Jasmines screams grew louder, her body shaking, her pussy clenching desperately around him. She’d never been fucked like this Aladdin had been decent, but Razoul was a god, his cock reshaping her, ruining her for anyone else.

“Aladdin’s small dick could never compare,” she gasped, her voice hoarse, her mind starting to crack. “You’re so much better… so much bigger…"
Razoul smirked, his ego swelling along with his cock. “Say it louder,” he demanded, grabbing her hair and pulling her head back.

“You’re better than Aladdin!” Jasmine screamed, her voice breaking. “Your cock’s fucking massive! I’m yours, Razoul!”

Her words ignited something primal in him. With a feral snarl, he pulled out abruptly, leaving her whimpering at the sudden emptiness. Before she could protest, he flipped her onto her back, seizing her ankles in his iron grip. He lifted her legs high, pushing them back until her knees were nearly by her ears, folding her into a mating press. Her thick thighs trembled, her pussy gaping and dripping, fully exposed to him. Razoul loomed over her, his cock glistening with her juices, his eyes burning with intent.

“Time to finish this,” he said, his voice a low rumble.

He slammed back into her, the angle driving his cock straight into her G-spot, the force making her entire body jolt. Jasmines scream tore through the room, banshee-like, raw and unrestrained. “FUCK! GOHAN!” she howled, once again her eyes rolling back completely, her tongue hanging out, drool streaming down her chin. She looked broken, mind shattered by getting fucked silly.

Razoul pounded her mercilessly, his hips a blur, his balls slapping her ass with every brutal thrust. The bed groaned under the force, the headboard banging against the wall. Jasmines pussy clenched around him, milking his cock, her screams growing hoarser, more desperate. “Breed me!” she begged, her voice cracking. “Fill me with your cum!”

“You’re mine,” Razoul roared, his thrusts becoming erratic, his cock swelling inside her. “All fucking mine!”

With a final, bone-shaking thrust, he buried himself balls-deep, his cock pulsing as he unleashed a flood of thick, hot cum into her womb. Jasmines body convulsed, her orgasm crashing over her like a tsunami, her screams peaking into a guttural wail. “I’M CUMMING!” she shrieked, her mind breaking entirely, her face locked in that ahegao expression eyes blank, tongue out, drool everywhere.

Razouls seed filled her, overflowing, spilling out around his cock and soaking the sheets beneath them. He kept thrusting, pumping every last drop into her, ensuring she was bred, claimed, marked as his. When he finally pulled out, a torrent of cum followed, pooling between her thighs. Jasmine lay there, twitching, panting, her legs still trembling in the air, her mind a blank slate of pleasure.

She looked up with her large eyes sluttily and managed to crawl herself up and start kissing at his chest. Razoul watched his his confidence exploded watching the beloved princesses of Agrabah suck and play with his nipples.

“I don’t think your father would approve.”

Chapter Text

The streets of Agrabah buzzed with their usual clamor — merchants shouting over the din, colorful fabrics fluttering in the heat, and the distant chatter of guards patrolling. Jasmine glided through the crowd in her familiar blue outfit, the sheer fabric hugging her curves, leaving little to the imagination. Her wide almond eyes scanned the bustling marketplace, but they always found him — Razoul.

He walked a few paces behind her, arms relaxed but tense with barely restrained strength. Even dressed in his usual guard attire, his presence radiated dominance. Jasmine felt a familiar heat rush through her at the sight of his massive shoulders, biceps bulging beneath his tunic, and chest that seemed carved from stone. His shirt was slightly unbuttoned from the day’s patrol, revealing a glimpse of thick, hair-sprinkled pecs and a hint of the taut abs she knew so well.

As they moved, Jasmine let her body brush subtly against his. Her hips swayed with exaggerated grace, pressing against his side just enough that he caught the soft fabric of her outfit against the growing hardness straining his pants. She could feel his eyes on her, heavy and deliberate, tracking every curve, every inch of exposed skin.

“Your Highness,” Razoul murmured, voice low but thick with barely concealed desire. He leaned just close enough that the scent of his sweat — earthy, musky, intoxicating — wrapped around her senses. Jasmine shivered inwardly, a small, sly smile tugging at her lips.

“Hmm? Oh… just enjoying the market,” she said, keeping her tone playful. Her hand “accidentally” brushed against his forearm, lingering far too long. She could feel the ripple of muscle under her touch, the tension in his body that made her pulse thrum. Her other hand adjusted a strand of hair, letting it fall across her neck deliberately, the scent of jasmine oil mixing with the sweat she knew he loved.

Razoul’s throat clicked audibly as he inhaled, his nose grazing the dark, silky strands. “You always smell… incredible,” he said, voice rough. Jasmine turned just enough to let her cheek brush his jaw, feeling the stubble scrape lightly, the warmth of his skin enveloping hers.

Her eyes sparkled mischievously, wide and almond-shaped, holding his gaze. Yes… notice me, feel me, they seemed to say. She moved closer, letting her chest graze against his arm, the soft swell of her breasts pressing against his side. Razoul’s hands twitched slightly at his sides, struggling to maintain composure in the midst of the crowded street.

“Oh? And what do you notice exactly?” Jasmine asked, voice dripping with teasing innocence. Her hand slid up his bicep, feeling the muscle flex under her fingers, her thumb grazing along the bulge of his pants. Razoul’s jaw clenched.

“Everything,” he muttered. His eyes darkened as he followed the motion of her hand, the subtle press of her body against his, the sway of her hips that left little doubt of her intent. Jasmine smirked to herself, letting her movements be just suggestive enough to tease but not so overt as to draw unwanted attention.

She stepped a little closer, brushing her hand against the front of his pants under the pretense of adjusting her sleeve. The faint outline of his cock, massive and rigid even through the fabric, pressed against her fingers. Razoul exhaled sharply, his hands curling into fists at his sides to keep from grabbing her right there.

“You’re impossible, princess,” he muttered, trying to keep his voice steady. Jasmine leaned her head near his shoulder, letting her lips brush against the tip of his ear as she whispered, “Do you really think I’m the only one who notices you?”

The subtle warmth of her breath sent a shiver down his spine. His nose dipped slightly, brushing against her hair again — this time inhaling deeply as if to memorize the scent. Jasmine’s fingers wandered along the ridge of his arm, trailing closer to the soft hollow behind his bicep, pressing against him just enough to make him stiffen.

As they moved through the crowd, Jasmine continued her teasing assault. Her hands “accidentally” grazed his chest, sliding down to cup his pecs briefly under the guise of steadying herself. The movement sent a deep, guttural groan up his throat that he quickly swallowed, but not before she caught it with a sly grin.

“Steady yourself, princess,” Razoul warned, trying to sound commanding, but the slight tremble in his voice betrayed him. Jasmine’s hand lingered just above the waistband of his pants, brushing against the edge of his cock. She could feel his hardness grow beneath her touch, the unmistakable pulse of arousal.

“Why, Razoul,” she said, feigning innocence while her almond eyes sparkled with mischief, “I was just trying to… help.” She pressed her hip against his subtly, letting the weight of her chest and curves be an unspoken invitation. He inhaled sharply again, the scent of her hair filling his senses, intoxicating him further.

A group of market-goers passed by, and Jasmine used the distraction to press herself fully against him, letting her breasts graze the solid expanse of his chest. Razoul’s hands twitched again, his control hanging by a thread. She let out a small, teasing laugh, low and sultry, letting it brush against his neck.

“You’re enjoying this,” she whispered, teeth grazing his earlobe. Razoul swallowed hard, trying to focus on the crowd instead of the princess pressing herself against him. Her long black hair, silky and scented, cascaded over his shoulder, and he inhaled it again, deep and greedy.

Jasmine tilted her head, letting her lips hover just above his collarbone. Her fingers slid slightly lower, tracing the seam of his tunic down his torso, the faintest brush against the edge of his bulging cock. Razoul groaned quietly, the sound nearly lost in the market’s chaos, but Jasmine caught every vibration against her lips.

“Princess…” he whispered, voice rough. She lifted her wide almond eyes to meet his, dilated with lust and mischief. She let her hair fall forward again, brushing against his chest as if by accident.

They continued their walk, a slow, tantalizing dance of touch and scent, her teasing hands, his barely restrained reactions. Each glance, each brush of skin, each inhale of her scent was a subtle claim — a reminder to himself and to her of the sexual tension that burned between them.

By the time they reached the private garden pavilion, both were flushed and aching with desire, the teasing in public having left them hungry for more. Jasmine’s lips curved into a sly, sultry smile. “Ready for the rest of our… walk?” she murmured. Her hand brushed against his rigid cock one last time under the guise of steadying herself.

Razoul exhaled deeply, the heat rising in his chest and groin. “Lead the way, princess,” he said, voice thick with longing and barely-contained lust. Jasmine’s almond eyes sparkled as she stepped ahead, swaying her hips just enough that he could barely resist following her every move

Jasmine stepped closer, each motion deliberate, her almond-shaped eyes locked on his. She let her fingers trail along his massive arms, tracing the bulging biceps like a painter caressing a masterpiece. The heat radiating from his skin made her pulse quicken, and she inhaled deeply, letting his musky scent — sweat, skin, and raw masculinity — fill her senses.

“Such strength…” she whispered, lips barely brushing the swell of his shoulder, trailing down the curve of his pec. Her fingers slid over the firm muscle, fingertips grazing the veins that ran along it. Razoul’s chest rose sharply, every inhalation trembling as her touch teased and lingered, slow and deliberate.

Jasmine’s lips followed the path of her fingers, soft, wet, teasing kisses along the curve of his pecs. She pressed her warm mouth against his skin, sucking gently, nibbling lightly, letting the heat of her breath and the wet press of her lips drive him wild. Her hands roamed over his torso, tracing the ridges of his abs, letting her fingers linger in the lines between each muscle, her nails lightly grazing the sensitive valleys, making him shiver under her worshipful touch.

Her fingers didn’t stop there. She slid them along the sides of his ribs, up to his shoulders, tracing the path of sinew and strength, letting her nails just graze the skin, teasing without leaving marks — a slow dance of sensation. She leaned closer, lips brushing along his collarbone, teeth grazing softly, tongue tracing small, deliberate patterns. Razoul’s hands twitched, desperate to touch her, but she stayed just out of reach, in perfect control, letting anticipation coil between them.

Her gaze lifted to his eyes, wide and shining with heat, and she let her hands wander to his biceps again. She wrapped her fingers around the thick muscle, pressing and massaging, watching him flex beneath her touch. “Such power…” she murmured, voice low and sultry, letting her lips trail back to his shoulder, neck, and upper chest. She alternated between soft sucks and feather-light bites, her tongue tracing along the curve of his muscle, tasting the sweat and the rawness of him.

Finally, her hands drifted lower, grazing the front of his tunic. She let her fingers brush against the fabric, tracing the outline of his cock, teasing him through the cloth. Her almond eyes widened, pupils dark, lips parted slightly as she leaned forward, letting her breath warm the sensitive tip. Razoul’s chest heaved, a low groan escaping him, every nerve on fire as she worshipped him inch by inch.

Jasmine took her time, circling her tongue over his nipples, sucking one gently, then the other, alternating slowly. Her hands traced over his abs again, cupping the ridges, letting her nails tease the soft valleys. She hummed softly into his skin, lips brushing over the sensitive patches, letting her teeth graze lightly, driving shivers straight down his spine.

Her fingers finally drifted fully to his cock, stroking slowly, teasing, letting her almond eyes flick up to his face every few strokes to watch his reaction. She licked along the side of him, soft, deliberate, tasting him. Every groan, every shiver, every twitch beneath her fingers made her pulse race. She leaned in, pressing her lips along the base of his shaft, letting the wet press of her mouth contrast with the firm, rigid power of him beneath her.

Razoul’s hands itched to pull her closer, to feel her body against his, but she kept him suspended in a slow, sensual tension, worshiping him inch by inch. Jasmine moved up, lips teasing his lower abs, sucking small marks, leaving tiny wet impressions, licking along the lines of muscle. Her fingers alternated between gentle strokes and slow, deliberate caresses over the tip, the shaft, the base — worshiping every part of him, making him shudder with desire.

Finally, she leaned back slightly, lips glistening, eyes dark and lustful, letting her hands continue their slow dance over him. “I could do this forever,” she whispered, voice husky. “Every inch of you… every muscle, every curve, every part of you…” She pressed a soft kiss against his chest, lingering, letting her warmth and scent imprint on him, making him ache with anticipation and desire.

Her almond eyes traced his face as she moved closer again, fingers slowly brushing over his shoulders and down his biceps. She pressed soft, wet kisses along his neck, jaw, and pecs, never rushing, savoring the worship of him fully. Every lick, every suck, every gentle bite was a promise — a declaration that she adored him, body and soul.

Razoul’s breathing became ragged, hands twitching, but he stayed still, entranced, caught completely in her slow, sensual ritual. Jasmine took her time, lips tracing each curve, hand brushing every ridge, letting every shiver, every groan, every quiver of his body guide her, making it clear: she was in full control, and she was devoted to worshipping him, inch by delicious inch

Jasmine lingered at his chest, lips still teasing his pecs, tongue swirling lazily over one nipple before she moved to the other, her almond eyes glowing with mischief. Every kiss was soft, slow, like a secret ritual. Razoul’s breathing was ragged, his chest rising and falling as though he had run across the desert. His hands clutched at her hair, her waist, gripping tight, unable to stay still while she poured her worship over him.

And then, deliberately, Jasmine let her hands drift lower. She pressed her palms to his cock, stroking him with measured care, before letting her breasts slide against the side of his shaft. Her eyes flicked upward, meeting his with a smirk, her lips wet and swollen from kissing, and without a word she leaned forward, pressing her breasts together to trap him in a soft, perfect valley of flesh.

Razoul’s groan ripped out of him instantly — raw, guttural, uncontrollable.

“Ohhh… Princess…” he snarled, hips jerking before he could stop himself. His cock thrust upward through her cleavage, the thick head brushing against her throat, slicking her skin with pre-cum.

But Jasmine was calm. Graceful. She adjusted her posture with poise, pressing her tits tighter together, arching her back so that every thrust slid perfectly between her curves. “Mmm…” she hummed, lowering her chin to drag her tongue across the swollen tip each time it reached her mouth. Every motion was deliberate, patient, worshipful. Her eyes fluttered shut, lashes brushing her cheeks, as if she were savoring the act more than him.

Razoul lost all restraint. His big hands clamped around her shoulders, pushing her tighter against him, forcing his cock deeper between her soft, pillowy breasts. His hips pistoned upward, hard and unrestrained, slapping against her chest as his breath came in feral grunts.

Where Jasmine was smooth silk, he was iron chains snapping.

She tightened her hold, pressing her tits together with elegant precision, rolling them against his shaft in long, slow squeezes. The friction was maddening, slickened by his own arousal, every stroke a perfect blend of softness and pressure. She lowered her head further, her tongue flicking out to swirl over the head of his cock with each thrust, lapping up the salty pre-cum, moaning softly as if it were nectar.

Her moans were quiet, graceful — little hums of satisfaction vibrating against his length. His groans, by contrast, were animalistic, echoing through the chamber, each thrust a declaration of how little control he had left.

“Look at you…” Jasmine purred between licks, her almond eyes flashing upward, playful and sultry. “So desperate… and all I’ve done is give you my chest.” She squeezed her tits harder, pushing them around him, stroking with an elegance that belied the filth of the act.

Razoul snarled, grabbing her hair with one hand, yanking her head back to watch her eyes as he slammed his cock harder between her breasts. “You’re mine, Jasmine. Every inch of you — mine.” His hips thrust without rhythm now, raw and needy, his cock gliding slick through her cleavage, slapping against her chin and throat.

Jasmine only smiled, lips parting, letting him use her. She leaned forward just enough to drag her tongue slowly across the underside of his shaft, then circle the tip when it popped free. The contrast was dizzying: his aggression, violent and unrestrained, crashing against her slow, graceful worship. She was water, flowing around him; he was fire, raging against her.

Her breasts bounced with each thrust, soft flesh wrapping and stroking him perfectly. She adjusted her grip, sliding her hands beneath them to press tighter, creating unbearable friction. Each time the head of his cock slipped through the top of her cleavage, she captured it with her lips, sucking hard for a brief second before letting it plunge back down.

Razoul’s growls turned to desperate groans, his chest heaving, sweat dripping down his muscles. He looked down at her — hair tousled, eyes wide and hypnotic, mouth glistening — and nearly lost it on the spot. “Jasmine… gods, I’m going to…”

She cut him off with a sensual moan, squeezing tighter, arching her back, rolling her tits in a perfect wave around his shaft. “Not yet,” she whispered, voice husky, lips brushing the swollen tip as it throbbed against her throat. “Let me worship you longer…”

And she did. She slowed her rhythm deliberately, every stroke precise, every lick measured. Her breasts slid in graceful, steady motions, her tongue darting to taste him at every chance, her almond eyes never leaving his. She dragged the tension out, savoring his every groan, every twitch, every violent thrust of his hips.

Razoul was losing his mind, torn between letting her take her time and forcing himself into release. His hands clenched her hair and shoulders, pulling her closer, thrusting harder, each motion desperate. Yet Jasmine remained calm, collected, sensual — her smooth kisses and steady squeezes only highlighting his frantic hunger.

When he finally roared, cock jerking violently between her tits, Jasmine let him — but even then, she remained poised, holding her breasts tight, letting him spill over her throat, her chest, her lips, her tongue. She caught every drop she could, licking her lips, humming softly, savoring him like a fine wine.

Her chest glistened with his lust, her hair damp from his sweat, but her almond eyes remained clear, playful, and utterly in control. She leaned forward, pressing one last slow, graceful kiss to the tip of his cock, whispering, “See? You’re divine when you let me worship you…”

Razoul, panting, shuddering, half-broken, could only clutch her to him, unable to form words — a beast undone by the goddess who worshipped him with nothing but her breasts and lips

The sun was low, painting Agrabah in a golden haze, and Razoul lounged in the palace courtyard, a rare moment of relaxation after his morning patrol. Yet even in public, his mind couldn’t shake the memory of the night before — Jasmine’s soft, intoxicating worship, the way her almond eyes had followed him, the slick heat of her skin pressed against him. A small smirk tugged at his lips as he flexed his bicep absentmindedly, feeling the subtle ache from her hands sliding over him.

“Head of the Guards, you seem… distracted,” one of his lieutenants, a broad-shouldered man named Omar, remarked. Razoul let his eyes drift lazily over his subordinate, then leaned back, letting a casual arrogance drip from every movement.

“Distracted? Oh, I’m plenty distracted,” Razoul said, voice low and husky. He let a knowing smirk curl his lips. “The Princess… she has a way of keeping a man… occupied.”

Omar raised an eyebrow, curiosity sparking. “The Princess? You mean…?”

Razoul chuckled darkly, the sound rich and dangerous. “You know exactly who I mean. She worships me… in ways that would make your head spin. I can barely resist following her every move.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and electrifying. A few guards nearby froze mid-step, exchanging glances. Whispers began to ripple, subtle at first, then growing bolder. Razoul leaned back, savoring the effect — his control over the situation extending beyond the bedroom now.

One by one, the men drew closer under the pretense of duty. Their gazes flicked to Razoul’s chest, to the faint sheen of sweat lingering from his morning exercises, imagining what the Princess’s worship had done to him. And the more he bragged, the more daring the whispers became.

“She… worships you?” Omar breathed, voice low, almost reverent. “Like… with…?”

Razoul smirked, letting a slow, deliberate hand trace the line of his bicep. “Everywhere. Breasts, lips, hands… every inch of me. You should’ve seen her last night. The way she pressed herself against me, dragging her tongue along…” He let the words hang, letting the tension coil around them like a live wire.

The courtyard felt smaller, hotter, charged with an almost palpable desire. The other guards shifted, some subtly licking their lips, others letting their eyes wander, imagining her soft curves wrapped around their captain’s body.

By the time the sun dipped fully behind the palace towers, the whispers had grown into murmurs — rumors — impossible to ignore. Each guard began stealing glances at Razoul, thinking about the Princess, thinking about the promises his commanding officer had just made. The tension was thick enough to cut with a dagger, and Razoul noticed every subtle change, every twitch of lustful anticipation.

When Razoul returned to the private hall for debriefing, a few guards lingered near the door, eyes bright, voices quieter but unmistakably eager. He noticed it, smirked, and said casually, “Don’t worry, men. You’ll see for yourselves soon enough.”

And with that, the seed was planted. Word spread like wildfire through the palace ranks: the Princess… the Princess of Agrabah… was not just anyone’s plaything. Razoul’s boast was enough to turn curiosity into lust, and soon, a few bold guards were already imagining scenarios that had previously only existed in their wildest, dirtiest dreams.

That night, the palace corridors became electric. Whispers of the Princess’s worship, her skill with her hands and lips, her willingness to bend her body to her desires… it all traveled, from the captain of the guards down to the youngest sentries. Each one imagined her wide almond eyes, her silky black hair, the soft scent of her skin as she moved against him, the way she pressed herself against Razoul’s chest and abs.

By the next evening, Razoul’s brag had ignited a hunger among the guards that could no longer be contained. Some lingered in the shadows, waiting for a hint of the Princess, for a glimpse of her blue outfit in the moonlight, or even the faintest sound of her movement. Each whisper, each stolen look, only heightened the collective need.

Razoul knew exactly the effect his words had caused. He felt a savage pride as he watched his men squirm with desire, imagining the Princess before them, imagining her worship, imagining her tits and lips, the soft sway of her hips, the gentle arch of her back — all of it now their tantalizing fantasy. And he… well, he was just getting started.

The night had fallen heavy over Agrabah, the palace cloaked in shadow and gold from the last glow of torches. Jasmine’s chambers were quiet, the faint rustle of her blue outfit brushing against the silk sheets as she moved. Her mind lingered on Razoul — his hands on her, the feel of his biceps, pecs, and abs under her soft, worshipful touches. The memory made her breath hitch, her wide almond eyes dark with need as she toyed with the delicate ties of her top. She could feel him in every nerve, every ache of her body craving him.

But tonight… tonight, she was not alone.

The whispers Razoul had left in the halls had spread like wildfire. By now, several of the palace guards were emboldened, their desire sharpened by the tales of Jasmine’s worship, her grace, and her intoxicating willingness. They approached her chambers cautiously at first, a single shadow in the doorway, eyes dark with longing. The first man hesitated, but Jasmine, ever attuned to attention, immediately sensed the presence. She looked up, her almond eyes wide and shining, black hair cascading over her shoulders like liquid silk, the soft scent drifting into the corridor as she sniffed lightly, sensing him.

“Come in,” she whispered, her voice melodic yet dripping with mischief. Her smooth, sensual energy enveloped the guard, drawing him in even before she moved closer. Her hands trailed along her body, brushing against her thighs, over the curve of her hips, teasing without giving too much away. She let the scent of her hair and skin drift near him, wrapping him in an intoxicating cloud of lust before her lips even touched him.

The guard shivered, unable to resist her presence. Jasmine stepped closer, her hands grazing the front of his tunic, feeling the hardness of his chest and the tautness of his biceps. Slowly, deliberately, she moved her mouth to his collarbone, kissing the warmth of his skin, then trailing down in soft, worshipful patterns — her lips lingering over every ridge, every curve, contrasting her gentle, fluid motion with the man’s increasing, unrestrained desire.

“You… you’re incredible,” he whispered, voice catching in his throat, already captivated by her deliberate grace.

Jasmine smiled, letting her lips brush against the top of his abs, teasing with soft, sensual kisses, feeling his muscles tense beneath her touch. She took her time, letting each motion be a slow exploration, worshipping him with her mouth, hands, and body. Her smooth kisses contrasted starkly with the guard’s impatient, trembling hands, which gripped at her hips and shoulders with growing urgency.

As she moved upward again, trailing kisses along his pecs, her delicate fingers found the edges of his tunic, slipping beneath to tease the soft planes of his skin. She circled his nipples with her thumbs, giving a gentle squeeze before her lips followed, sucking and licking in careful, meticulous worship. Each motion was a tease, coaxing him, making him shiver and groan, completely undone by her measured devotion.

Meanwhile, his hands betrayed him, rougher, more aggressive, gripping her hips, tugging at her back, searching for contact, needing release. Jasmine leaned into his unrestrained energy, letting her movements respond to his, guiding him as she explored him fully. She moved down along his abs, caressing the line of his waist, letting her tongue trace the swell of each muscle, before finally brushing over the length of his cock through the thin fabric of his pants, eliciting a sharp intake of breath.

Her worship was deliberate, sensual, and teasing — every kiss, lick, and brush of her fingertips designed to make him ache for her, while his movements were desperate, urgent, animalistic. She let herself play with the tension, alternating between gentle, languid caresses and firm, pressing motions that drew groans from him. Every sigh, every twitch, every shiver was a mark of her control — a balance between her smooth seduction and his raw need.

As she lifted her head to meet his eyes, her wide almond gaze dark with lust, she smiled softly, breathing in his scent, letting the tension coil in the room. Her hands drifted upward again, teasing his nipples and pecs, applying just enough pressure to make him groan, his body jerking under her slow, methodical worship.

Finally, after a series of soft, tantalizing touches and kisses, Jasmine shifted, bringing her hands to cup him fully. She pressed her breasts against him, letting her top slip slightly to reveal more of her chest. Her smooth, sensual movement became the prelude to the main act — the tit fuck. She guided him between her breasts slowly, letting her weight and the softness of her mounds massage and stimulate him. Her nipples brushed against the underside of his cock, slick with her anticipation, as she moved with deliberate rhythm, contrasting her gentle sensuality against his now completely unrestrained groans and desperate thrusts.

The guard’s hands gripped her hips tightly, his thrusts sloppy but powerful, trying to keep up with her slow, teasing motions. Each movement from her was precise — her chest pressed fully against him, fingers stroking, nipples brushing — coaxing him, controlling him, worshipping him with every inch of her body. She let herself smile, relishing in the way he trembled under her touch, his body responding to her expert, methodical care.

By the time the first shuddering climax hit him, Jasmine’s smooth, worshipful motions had brought him to the edge multiple times, teasing him, prolonging the pleasure, letting his release build and build. His groans filled the room, echoing off the walls as she finally allowed him the release he had been straining for, catching every inch of him, every drop, her lips and hands precise in worship and adoration.

She finally pulled back, letting him catch his breath, her wide almond eyes still locked on his, her smooth hair brushing against his chest as she leaned in to kiss him lightly, her soft, silky lips contrasting his still-raw, unrestrained desire. The guard’s chest heaved, his hands still gripping at her hips, utterly undone by her deliberate, sensual worship.

The echoes of the first guard’s release still lingered in Jasmine’s chambers, a warm, intoxicating haze hanging in the air. Her blue outfit clung to her curves, the silk slipping slightly as she moved, brushing against her supple hips and bouncing breasts. Her wide almond eyes were still shining, pupils dilated with lingering arousal, hair loose and fragrant, drifting like a dark, silky cloud around her shoulders. She could feel the tension in the room, a mix of her own desire and the lingering energy of the first guard.

It didn’t take long for the next wave to arrive. Word of Razoul’s conquest — and the princess’s eager worship — had spread faster than Jasmine could have imagined. One by one, shadows slipped into her chamber, eager eyes trained on her every movement. Each guard approached cautiously at first, drawn by curiosity, by the stories, by sheer lust, but the moment Jasmine noticed them, she let herself relax into the role she knew so well: the perfect mix of teasing seduction and unrestrained invitation.

Her almond eyes swept over the first of the new arrivals, a soft, knowing smile playing at her lips. She sniffed lightly, letting the subtle scent of her hair and skin reach him, wrapping him in an invisible coil of temptation. Her hands drifted over her body, brushing her smooth hips, sliding along her thighs, teasingly lingering over the curve of her ass. She moved closer, slow and deliberate, letting the guard’s eyes devour her every inch before she pressed her soft chest against his rigid form.

Her kisses were gentle, worshipful, sensual — lips tracing the line of his collarbone, over the swell of his pecs, down along the ridges of his abs. Her hands found his biceps, cupping, squeezing, teasing as her tongue flicked along his nipples. Each motion was slow, meticulous, designed to make him shiver with need while she maintained control.

Contrast that with his hands — rough, urgent, desperate — gripping her hips, tugging at her back, searching for release. Jasmine let herself melt into him, leaning into his aggression while maintaining her deliberate, sensual rhythm. Her lips found his neck, trailing along, sucking softly before moving to tease his chest again. She alternated gentle worship with firmer touches, letting him experience the full spectrum of her control: a teasing, slow seduction against his raw, unrestrained lust.

And then she turned, letting her smooth curves press fully against him, guiding him to feel every inch of her body. Her hands cupped his cock through the fabric, stroking gently, coaxing a low groan from him. Her lips returned to his pecs and nipples, alternating between sucking and licking, while her fingers explored the taut planes of his body. She let herself savor the contrast: her measured, graceful worship versus his trembling, desperate response.

Before long, another guard stepped forward, emboldened by what he had heard — the scent, the soft moans, the slick heat in the air. Jasmine’s almond eyes met his, wide and inviting, and she beckoned with a tilt of her head, fingers trailing slowly along her own cleavage. She shifted her hips, letting the silk of her blue outfit glide over her curves as she knelt gracefully, offering herself in a way that was both submissive and commanding. Her mouth found the next guard’s chest, lips pressing softly, teeth grazing the edges of his nipples as her hands explored the firm planes of his abs and biceps.

The guard’s hands were reckless, urgent, gripping her hips and shoulders as he tried to dominate, but Jasmine maintained the balance of power. Her worship was fluid, smooth, sensual, each kiss and stroke calculated to heighten his desire while keeping her in control. She alternated between sucking, licking, and gentle biting, letting her lips linger on the most sensitive spots, coaxing groans and shivers from him.

Finally, she prepared herself for the tit fuck, moving her body in a deliberate rhythm. Her large breasts, soft yet firm, enveloped his length, the slick skin sliding against him as she guided him with gentle pressure. Her nipples pressed against the underside, teasing him, while her hands cupped, squeezed, and massaged. The guard groaned, thrusting clumsily into her, but Jasmine’s slow, sensual motions forced him to follow her lead, making every touch and movement herdominated experience.

As she continued, more guards crowded the doorway, eyes dark with lust, anticipation building. Jasmine’s almond eyes flicked to them, and a teasing smile curved her lips. Each new arrival felt the pull of her controlled seduction, the contrast of her graceful, worshipful motions against the guards’ wild, unrestrained hunger. She shifted slightly, letting her silky hair brush against the chest of the next eager guard, letting the faint scent of her arousal drift in the air, marking her territory.

The room was a symphony of desire: groans, sighs, wet sounds of flesh against flesh, the slow, deliberate tit fuck dominating the center while Jasmine’s hands and lips worshipped, teased, and controlled every inch of each man who dared to approach. Her wide almond eyes shone, pupils dilated, as she alternated soft, sensual kisses with firm, guiding touches, keeping every guard on edge.

By the end of the scene, Jasmine had fully orchestrated the chaos, balancing her smooth, graceful sensuality with the guards’ raw aggression. Every groan, every gasp, every twitch of muscle was under her influence, the room filled with the scent and sounds of unrestrained lust — yet all flowing under her careful control.

The heat in Jasmine’s chambers was thick, almost suffocating, a mix of sweat, arousal, and the faint scent of her hair drifting through the room. Her wide almond eyes glinted as she looked around, taking in the gaggle of guards now pressed against the walls, breaths uneven, hands twitching with desire. Each man had heard the stories, seen the evidence of what she could do — but experiencing it firsthand was a different kind of intoxicating.

Jasmine’s silk blue outfit clung to her curves, the fabric slightly damp from her own slick, clinging to the swell of her breasts and the curve of her hips. She let her fingers trail along the top of her chest, teasing the tops of her nipples through the thin fabric, and allowed a soft, almost innocent sigh to escape. But her eyes betrayed her: she was ready to command every inch of their desire.

The first guard, still recovering from the initial tit fuck, was drawn forward again. Jasmine knelt gracefully before him, lips hovering just above his chest. Her mouth trailed delicate, worshipful kisses down the firm plane of his pecs, over taut abs, brushing the muscles of his biceps with her fingertips. Her hands cupped, squeezed, and massaged as her tongue flicked over the taut peaks of his nipples. Each movement was slow, deliberate, sensual, drawing out groans and shivers, keeping him on the brink while she maintained full control.

She let the rhythm of her worship be the slow heartbeat of the room, each kiss, each touch a contrast to the guards’ desperate, uncontrolled hands trying to claim her body. She reached for his cock, hands sliding over the length, feeling the heat, the pulse, letting him writhe against her controlled ministrations. Her lips left the chest only to return, lingering, sucking, tasting — worshiping every inch.

Another guard stepped forward, emboldened by what he saw. Jasmine’s wide almond eyes met his, and she let a teasing smile curl her lips. She slowly rose, letting her hips brush against him as her hands continued to roam over the first guard’s body, keeping him engaged. Her hair fell over her shoulders, the scent wrapping around the new guard, drawing him closer with invisible threads. She leaned into him, lips tracing along his neck, teasing his ears, before letting her hands explore his chest and biceps, fingers pressing firmly against the ridges of his muscles.

The tit fuck began again — but this time with orchestration. Jasmine guided the first guard, her large breasts enveloping him, nipples pressed to the underside, her hands keeping the rhythm smooth, sensual, controlled. She encouraged him, whispering in a soft, honeyed voice that contrasted sharply with the rough, desperate thrusts of his body. Every roll of her hips, every squeeze of her hands, every flick of her tongue was calculated — drawing out pleasure while asserting dominance.

Meanwhile, she moved between the new arrivals, letting her lips brush along their torsos, hands teasing their muscles, nipples, abs, and biceps. Her worship was fluid and graceful, her kisses soft and lingering, fingers precise — but the guards were wild, unrestrained, desperate to touch, to claim, to dominate. The tension was exquisite: her control against their chaos.

She allowed herself to pause, kneeling on the silk rug, one hand on each of two guards, lips grazing, teasing, tasting. Her hair fell like a dark curtain over her shoulders, and she tilted her head back, letting her wide almond eyes lock on each man in turn, silently daring them, teasing them, commanding them. The first guard’s cock remained snugly enveloped between her breasts, a slow, sensual tit fuck that she guided with masterful precision, while her hands roamed and worshiped the new arrivals.

The room became a symphony of moans, wet sounds, and whispered commands. Jasmine orchestrated the chaos, ensuring her slow, deliberate worship never lost dominance over the aggressive, desperate desires of the guards. Each tit squeeze, each lick, each delicate kiss was a tool of power — contrasting against the guards’ raw, unrestrained need.

She leaned back slightly, pressing her chest forward, letting the first guard sink deeper between her soft mounds while whispering encouragement in his ear. “Relax… feel me… let me take care of you,” she murmured, voice dripping with sultry control. Each word drew another groan, another pulse, another shiver, while the other guards watched, desperate to feel the same touch.

Her hips rolled, her breasts guided the rhythm, her hands cupped, kneaded, flicked, and teased. Every movement was sensual, intentional, and worshipful, drawing out the pleasure in slow, luxurious waves, while the guards’ aggressive, uncontrolled reactions collided with her calm, controlled mastery. Jasmine’s wide almond eyes, smooth graceful lips, and flowing black hair became a hypnotic centerpiece — every man’s attention locked on her as she guided them through their shared, chaotic lust.

The part ended with the room saturated in tension and arousal, Jasmine in full control of the tit fuck and worship, the guards desperate, twitching, and utterly enthralled by her every move. Her wide eyes gleamed, chest heaving, lips glistening, as she prepared for the next stage: intensifying the tit fuck while orchestrating the other guards’ touches and worship, pushing the limits of pleasure and control.

Jasmine’s lips curved into a mischievous smile. Slowly, deliberately, she knelt before the first guard, her hands gliding over his chest, up along his biceps, over the ridges of his abs, until she reached the taut planes of his pecs. Her tongue flicked over the peak of his nipple while her fingers kneaded, cupped, and teased. The guard’s groan hitched sharply, his hands twitching to claim her, but she leaned back just enough to keep the control firmly in her hands.

She rose slightly, guiding him between her massive, supple breasts. Her nipples pressed against his shaft, slick and sensitive, as her hands continued to roam over his body, kneading, teasing, worshiping. Her movements were smooth, sensual, almost hypnotic, a stark contrast to the guards’ desperate, unrestrained thrusts and groans. She rolled her hips slowly, letting the first guard sink deeper into her soft embrace, her voice a sultry whisper:

“Relax… let me take care of you… feel me.”

The other guards didn’t wait. Jasmine allowed them to come closer, her hands brushing over their muscles, fingers teasing nipples, abs, and biceps, guiding their touches. Her worship was fluid, deliberate, and intoxicating, drawing out moans and gasps from all three men. She lowered her mouth to the chest of the second guard, lips tracing along the contours of his pecs, tongue flicking over nipples, hands kneading and sliding over taut abs. The third guard was next, her long black hair cascading over his shoulders as her lips grazed his skin, her hands exploring his body with deliberate reverence.

Then the tit fuck reached its apex. Jasmine leaned forward, rolling her hips, enveloping the first guard completely between her soft mounds. Her hands cupped his balls, massaging them, while her lips and fingers worshiped the other guards simultaneously. Her movements were slow, sensual, and commanding, the contrast between her graceful touches and their wild, desperate thrusts intoxicating. She let herself moan softly, a controlled sound that sent shivers through the men, keeping them tethered to her rhythm.

She alternated her attention, lips gliding over nipples, sucking, flicking, kneading, while hands guided cocks, rubbed abs, and pressed against biceps. Her worship was hypnotic, commanding, each kiss and touch slow, deliberate, and teasing. The guards’ hands were rough, grabbing, thrusting, trying to dominate — but Jasmine’s calm control kept them anchored, every man caught between lust and reverence.

Finally, she allowed the first guard’s cock to pulse fully inside her cleavage, fingers tightening around his shaft as she rolled her breasts up and down, slowly, deliciously. Her wide almond eyes glimmered, lips glistening, black hair falling like a curtain as she whispered encouragement. Each man moaned, writhed, desperate, lost in the contrast between her sensual mastery and their own raw aggression.

The climax came as Jasmine fully orchestrated the chaos. She guided every thrust, every touch, every lick, every press of her lips. The first guard erupted between her breasts, long, hot streams slicking over her skin, while she continued to worship the others, sucking nipples, kissing abs, kneading biceps, fingers sliding over hardened flesh. The other guards followed, their groans and cries echoing against the walls as she kept the rhythm slow, sensual, hypnotic, completely in control.

When the last wave of pleasure hit, Jasmine rose, her hair falling over her glistening shoulders, wide almond eyes still sparkling with triumph. The room was sticky, scented with sex, her silk blue outfit damp and clinging to her curves, her chest heaving. Every guard was spent, trembling, utterly captivated by the slow, sensuous control of the princess who had turned their aggression into worship.

She leaned back, graceful and commanding, letting her fingers brush over her own chest, lips curling into a sly, satisfied smile. “Remember this,” she whispered, voice sultry, honeyed. “I am yours to worship… but only on my terms.”