A/n- Hello Everyone. I'm back with a new chapter; I hope you all enjoy the read.

I've realised I have not put a warning the story, I will be going back to correct that.

I warn you now that this story is dark, containing violence, sexual violence, strong langue and (later) rape. The story will become more violent in later chapter, especially in what I have planned in the next upcoming chapter. If you are not above the ages of 18, I highly recommend not reading. Though, in the end it is your choice. Sorry guys!

Enjoy!

Her body stiffened. The fire in his eyes rocked over her senses and made her want to crawl into a hole. She curled into herself, hoping her clinging long hair covered her exposed flesh. Her heart drummed unmercifully in her ear, blood throbbing with threat. Instantly her eyes shifted to the man in front of her, panting like a dog in heat as he seemingly glared back at her. "Jafar?" The moment the sorcerer's name left her captor's mouth she panicked. He was really there. Her hands shot out, shoving hard into Ramses' chest. A grunt surpassed his lips as he stumbled back, leaving the young princess to drop to the floor. Her back hit the stone loudly but with a quick lunge she was on her feet, backing away from the man in red. Her head shook, as she tripped backwards. It took two swift strides of Jafar's longs lags to reach her. She moved to run, crouching to push off into a sprint but his long finger latched onto her petite wrists, jerking her back in front of him.

"How dare you lay your hands upon me, let go this very instant!" Her nails clawed into his knuckles, demanding freedom.

"Do not talk down to me, Jasmine. I certainly, am not the one scantily clad in the arms of a strange man. A man, of which, plans take advantage of all your sweetness. To think you have the nerve to believe that stranger has more right to touch you than I?" She could feel his laughter rumble against her toned skin, sending shivers down her spine. She was embarrassed of herself; she did not know how she allowed herself to do such a… humiliating thing. Her eyes searched his face, finding an unknown hunger lurking deep in black sea of his eyes. She felt drawn to the idea; pondering what exactly this emotion was. "It is sad how wrong you are my dear. I own you." She froze… He what?

"The hell you do!"

With a remarkable grace he lifted her arm above her head, earning a shrilled cry from the princess. Her toes lifted from the ground and her shoulder blade threatened to pop beneath the pressure. "We made an agreement for my cooperation in saving you, do you recall or must I remind you. "The tone in his voice was vile, like poison to the ears. Her feet reached out for the floor, desperately trying to take the weight of her body off her arm. The more she moved the more painful it became, so she allowed her body to dangle. Her stomach dropped. She did not like the way he was looking at her, It was murderous. "Answer me!"

"Yes!" Her voice hardly choked out the answered, the pressure of shoulder was creating a fussing haze in her thoughts, making everything harder to process. "Yes, I recall the agreement. Jafar, please," Her body was full of mixed emotions; the lust from earlier still pulsing through her veins, the fear had become twice as thick. She groaned; she wasn't sure if that dark puppeteer in her was finding this sexual or abusive. "Please…" She tried pleading again.

A deep growl pondered from behind Jafar. "Mind explaining to me what the fuck is going on?" Jafar glanced back at the man. Jasmine let out a relieved sigh as her toes touched the cobble stone floor. She stumbled, the weight of her own body feeling abnormal to her legs. He caught her tumbling body, pulling it deep into his grip, arm wrapped around her waist protectively. She flushed; Jafar protecting her felt very… different.

"I believe the situation is quite understandable." His voice bit at Ramses, practically daring him to advance. She was shocked as she watched Jafar remove his long cape and snuggly wrap it about her shoulders. Was he… helping her? She felt a quick squeeze against the cloth before Jafar turned on the man. "This woman is not only far beyond your standards, but she is also called for."

"Really?" Ramses sounded extremely amused by the fact, and chuckled. He took a strut forward, his lean muscles flexed, still shining from her wet skin. Jasmine could not help but drink in the sight of him, her tongue dragging against her lower lip in a sweet need. He looked like a foreign god, with his perfect physique. His eyes fell to her; she could bet he could feel the lust practically fume off her. His golden eyes tempted her to go back into his arms, beg for more. Her breath shuttered. "You do not assume to know me. I in fact, am of royal blood; nothing is out of my standards. Besides, the lovely lady does not seem called for and she certainly does not act like she is called for." Jasmine cringed at that comment; mentally cursing herself on how careless she was. "If she is called for by any man then it is me, because I have no intention of letting her go." That darkness inside of her puffed, it liked believing it held power over such a godlike specimen.

"Well, well, the princess of Agrabah has been snatch up by a prince of Egypt. How quaint. Why Jasmine only if you had met him before your idiotic street rat, maybe the city would still be in one piece." She never missed the sarcastic venom hidden deep in his words.

"Princess of Agrabah?"

She collided her body into Jafar's, throwing him off balance and to glare back at her. Neither man expected her to attack him. "Do not dare speak of him!" Her voice was ragged with rage. She advanced on him, her darkness burning like wild fire in her lungs. She felt the need for blood to soak her skin, the need of vengeance. Her hands fisted, trying to contain herself but desperately failing. She moved to attack before realising he disappeared again. "Stop. Doing that!" She was irritated. Why could he not just take a hit just once? She took a look around the room, finding Ramses watching her intently, smile broad on his face.

"I will do no such thing. I know exactly what kind of violence you are capable of pussy cat." His voice echoed about the room, but his presence didn't exist in the surrounding area.

"Princess?" Ramses let the word roll off his tongue once more. "My, well that does explain lot, or does it not flower?" Jasmine felt the rage the rage dissipate with the way he was looking at her, flicking the switch to something far sultrier. She felt her abdominal heat over and her cheeks flushed. He had to bring that up…

"Where the fuck did he go?"

"He is a sorcerer, Makia. It is a rare and remarkable ability that bends magic to his will." Ramses seemed unaffected by Jafar's disappearance. He moved for the princess, eyes keeping complete captivation of hers. "Princess, I am sorry to hear of your kingdom's situation."

The darkness shuttered in her eyes. "I do not need pity."

"Why not, you must have run for at least two days to have ended up here. To have endured a lot more than you allowed to be shown, I could not even imagine." He moved closer, fingers tracing the curved of her face. "How sad."

"I said I do not need your pity!" She could have sworn her hands had shot out in front of her, trying to assault the Egyptian man. She looked up to see her fists stopped short of their destination, locked in long fingers. To her surprise the hand didn't belong to Ramses.

"Do not touch." Jafar pulled her back from Ramses, refusing to let the Egyptian to move any closer. She saw challenge in Ramses eyes, which in turn Jafar must have been returning. She couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes over the fact they looked like two rabid dogs fighting over the same chunk of meat as they glared at one another. Her horrid split self was humbly amused by the fact, she liked being the piece of meat… while Jasmine found it rather insulting.

Men never got over their ego did they?

"Her body is mine, we made a deal."

"I am afraid that I must dampen your spirit then sorcerer. I have claimed her as my own."

"What, exactly, gives you the right to such a claim?"

"I am the Prince of Egypt, and owner of this brothel, I claim what I wish."

"Arrogant little bastard."

"Greedy old fucker"

"Enough!" Jasmine felt like her head was swimming. She couldn't handle the two of them in the same room. She felt like vomiting from the overwhelming pride these men fumed off. Her body was rushing with heat, from anger and embarrassment. Her breath was low, and shallow, trying to calm her thundering heart. "I am not some… some zonah you can own!" She let the anger roll off her tongue, soaking each word in her own taint. "Now remove your hands before I take pleaser in doing it myself." Her words where came slowly, daring the sorcerer to ignore her. His grip loosened, and she snatched her wrists back, pulling far harder than needed. She softly rubbed them; they felt bruised after he lifted her from the floor. She couldn't believe their attitude, insulting her morals. Her dark soul was greatly amused by her bitter act. She took a look around the room, finding a chest; it was large and profoundly decorated. With the hopes of clothing she headed for it. She'd be damned if she sat around much longer in the bare roots of her flesh with nothing more than a cape to cover her. A shiver crawled down her spine, especially with the way these men watched her. It was revolting. She flipped the lid of the chest hastily, finding a spray of cloth inside. Dropping the heavy silk about her shoulders she grabbed the first shirt in sight, pulling it over her head with a deep huff. It hung low on her thighs, refined white cotton decorated in golden thread. It had a deep cut in the neck of the shirt, dangling mid chest and tied with leather sting. She sighed, it would work for now. Her feet dragged lazily on to ground when she turned back to look at them. Swiftly she slipped her hands under the nap of her neck, pulling her long wet locks from under the cloth. She glared at them; both of their eyes were all over her, like they were inspecting the invisible marks that belonged to the other man. "Stop that."

"What is he too you?" Ramses voice hummed over her. "You both seem extremely familiar for him just to be 'someone' who saved your life. You call him by name." Jasmine was confused, he was very observant, and it through her off guard.

"He used to be the Royal Vizier of my father's kingdom." She gripped the sleeves of the oversized shirt tightly. She did not like talking about Jafar, especially when he was standing there watching her. Hesitantly she gazed down at the cape around her ankles. She would feel much better with both the cape and the shirt wrapped around her.

"You must be jesting; your father had appointed a sorcerer in the position of the royal Vizier?" Ramses shuffled a laugh. The princess made best to ignore the two of them, she bent down, dripping the silk cape tightly. She hugged it to her chest with a sigh; she hated listening to their bitter tones. Wrapping it around herself she looked up at them. "To no surprise he turned on the city."

"Do tell, Egyptian. How is it you know so much about the politics of Agraba?"

"I make it my business to know everything about the surrounding countries, even more so when I invest in a business." Jasmine was appalled.

"Business?" Her words were very sharp. "I see no business here, only the trade of slaves and your whores."

"A business in the trade of woman and slaves is known to be the most successful business to invest one 'self in. At least, in these parts it is." Ramses moved. There was a large desk, decorated in fine wines and hard liquors. Scrolls, papers and inks were scattered about it. Obviously he was not lying about in the investments. His fingers dragged across the sheer paper, a smirk twisting his lips. "Agrabah is the number one capital to make business in slavery. No other county buys or sells more in the subject. Especially at the moment, the war is doubling the amount of sales." Her heart seized.

"This is of no surprise, while the Arcadians take pleasure in raiding the city walls I am positive they are finding more in the brothels. Agrabah is littered with them. What is a man of war who does not stop for a good tumble along the way?" Jasmine's eyes rested on Jafar, utterly horrified. Her eyes danced across him, searching for any means of false speech. There was tense humor in his eyes as he soaked in her reaction; obviously she had no idea of the cities filth. Being a woman she had no right to know of such things, the cities problems would have never been discussed with her. The only people, other than himself, who could have possibly known were the wretched street urchin and the childish sultan. "Your 'husband to be' was not kind enough to explain such things, my dear?" A wall built up inside her chest at his words. Being a princess she never saw outside the palace walls until recently, she knew of the brothels but she had not known they were in such high numbers. Quickly she looked around the room; idea's flying through her mind.

"This brothel, where is it?" Her eyes dashed from man to man.

"This brothel in particular is 300 miles from the capital of Agrabah, an active rout for the Arcadians." Her eyes froze on him, breath practically halting in her chest. The black haze of her eyes flickered dangerously. The idea was haunting, running deep in her blood, pounding a nightmarish tint through her heart. It thumped, agitated, through her, fuzzing her mind over in a red haze. An active rout for the barbarians, a trail they followed to her home. A sexual pit stop. Her eyes fell heavy, half lidded in the hatred. A smirk drifted against her lips as the puppeteer reared its ugly head.

"I am your slave am I not?" Silence rang through the air and Ramses stared in wonder, the look of success could not be more potent on his face.

"Yes, in fact you are." His gaze addressed Jafar in arrogant victory.

"Give me something to ware, the gown of one of your… women." She spat the word; she did not see them as real women. They were nothing more than pets. "Personally I would prefer the colors of red." They way her large eyes hovered half lidded seemed sultry. She was manipulating the man. Jasmine had a body made for sin, a body made to ravish, and she knew it. She used it to humiliate men or just to get her way. Jafar took notice of how she purposely swayed her hips, rolled her shoulders. She controlled men like she did horses, holding them by the rein, leading them on. Attentively her eyes fluttered against him, long eyelashes brushing against her brows. Watching her grow up Jafar had seen this act far too many times, and men would always bend to her will. His eyes narrowed. Spoiled child the princess had been, manipulating everyone in sight. The princess had grown to hate him when she had realized the sorcerer was the only man she could not push into obedience. Jafar was the only man to challenge her.

"You are a dangerous woman, princess." Ramses voice was husky. He had been affected by her gaze, no doubt, because he had already been against her skin. Felt the touch of her flesh against his. The breath in Jafar's lungs fell low, he hated the idea. He was a man, though it was never shown to her, he too had been drawn into her presence. Only once had he fallen for it, that faithful nigh when she kissed him. He dared for more and envied any man who had received it. "Slaves do not manipulate the Slavers my dear."

Jasmine's feet danced silkily against the floor, feet gracefully pushing forward. She swayed, hands waving with the curve of her body. "Manipulate?" She played coy to the word, her smirk looking deadlier than before. "I only wish to be clothed, is that too much to ask for… master." Ramses groaned.

"You are infuriating."

"You are tempting." There was a fire in her soul, dancing in sweet darkness. She gazed up at him, through the thick curl of her lashes, her nail dragging tenderly against his bare chest. The captivating abyss was leading the way, and she fallowed without hesitation. Jasmine knew how to get what she wanted. Through blood and sweat she would reach her goal. "Cloth me sir, dress me in your finest silk. Have me wait on you hand and foot for your desire alone." Her finger caressed circles into his chest. "Please…"

To her pleasure he sucked in a shallow breath, and it twitched beneath his skin. "Fine…" His voice was deep, quite as he stared down at her lazily. Then his voice came sharp, barking out at the stunned man in the room. "Makia, come with me. You…" He gazed down at her, slowly trailing off. "You stay here." She smiled sweetly as he stormed from the room, the old and fat man in tow behind him.

Instantly her hot gaze fell cold. Jafar smirk at her, forcing a rumbled laughter through his chest. "You are quite the devious minx."

"Where the hell were you?"

"Here."

"Two week's Jafar, they said I was here for two weeks!"

"Unconscious of course, but yes my dear, two weeks is the correct amount."

"Why did you not get me out of here?" Her voice was like razor blades. She was tired of his smart-ass remarks. She stomped towards the tall man before her. "You are the most powerful genie to exist, how is it we are still here?"

"I princess, am bound by the curse of the genie. I cannot wander far from my lamp without being chained back." Lazily he leaned on his golden cobra staff, red smoke peeling off his presence. "Makia has been using my damned lamp as an ordainment, the senile bastard." Jasmine shuffled a bitter laugh from her lips. The man dressed in red looked rather insulted.

"If you had just prevented this then we would not be here." She leaned forward, pushing herself into his personal space. She watched his smile grow; the bitter amusement was becoming something twisted. Provoked by her anger, he too leaned.

"I assumed you would have preferred not to waste your last wish. All would be in vain if I had."

"Cruel." She shivered as his fingers wrapped around a strain of her hair, pulling it to his lips.

"You have not seen cruel my dear." She could see the sensual challenge in his presence. The abyss eased into the idea, wanting to play his game. She had never won against Jafar, not mentally, though physically they had defeated him. In the end he was the only man who could call her bluff, put her back in her place. Growing up she hated it. She wanted men to fall in line behind her, but the vizier was not a man to fall in line. He was a man meant to rule, Jasmine had known that since she met him. The vizier used magic to manipulate the sultan, causing him to rule properly. Ironically without Jafar the sultan was just a child acting confident, but in fact, had no idea on how to play the game of politics. The sorcerer was a powerful man and without him Agrabah was a ruined city. Jasmine was always bitter of the fact; she had always threatened to be rid of him. A bluff, knowing she could never do such a thing. The city would lose far too much without him. It took a few short months to realise her fears where true. The sultan and her peasant love where causing the city to fall into ruins, throwing money into the streets and running the country bankrupt. Trade was falling behind, money was coming in low.

The smoke tangled beneath her ankles. Red twisting in bloody swirls, he began to dissipate in front of her. She took in the spice; the thick fog was alluring to the senses. It wrapped about her legs, tasting her skin. Quickly he tugged the strand of hair, pulling her body into the lean weight of his. Their lips crashed for a brief moment before his body turned into the humid smoke around her. He had beaten her at her own game, she realized that. She had anticipated his touch, seeking more through bitter lies. He manipulated her, like she tried to manipulate him. An angry hum vibrated through her. "You have not seen cruel." She mimicked. Her arms crossed hastily across her chest. "Arrogant." She watched the smoke curled around her before seeping from the room, being pulled back to prison of his lamp. Darkness clouded over her. He had changed her cloths, wrapping her tan skin in fine blood silk. He had dressed her in this decretive wear once before. The strapless halter clung to her breast tightly, dressing her in a second skin. It pushed her breasts greedily upwards keeping them perky and alluring. Her stomach stayed bare, her naked skin glowing beautifully against the golden thread against her waist. Pure gold chains looped decoratively through the band, dangling longingly against the carefully weaved thread. It was low on her hips, pulling dangerously deep on her pelvis. The red silk was tight on her thighs then bundled loosely on her ankles. Cobras decorated the jewelry on her body. She sighed; he would use her cloths to mark ownership on her. Angrily she drugs her fingers through her bangs. "You are a snake Jafar." She almost could hear his haunting laughter aluminate through her.

She moved quickly, wasting no time to leave Ramses' room. She slide through the red curtain, blending herself into the crowed of sullied woman. She ruled over them, her presence captivating and overpowering. Her body was an enchantment to the eyes, as her hips curled into each step. She oozed of confidence, of lust and power. She controlled every sight in the room without a single glance to be spared. Jasmine made a promise to herself; she would be a siren, a monster meant to lure men into their deaths. She would spare no souls. Any Arcadians to cross her path, daft enough to try her charms would meet a miserable end. She followed in step the women in front of her, ignoring the service rooms dressed against the walls. She wanted the room where the men would gather for feasts, to choose the woman of service. She wanted the room where she could pick out her next victim. The woman fell into line behind her, like following a secret command. The fed from her ruined purity, of tainted lust and unconsciously craved for more. The darkness in her soul bubbled as large door greeted her, men stood watching the woman, whips in hand. Guards to watch the merchandise she supposed. The woman piled into the room, dancing the colorful scarfs through the makeshift breeze. One woman fell quickly in step beside her, taking in the princesses' darkness. The woman's eyes did not seem amused. "You mus' be new." The woman had a thick ancient, similar to the slavers. Jasmine ignored her and pushed closer to the questionable room. She was pleased at the sight. Arcadians plastered the room in a drunken bliss, a woman wrapped in each arm. They watched the new arrivals eagerly. "Do no' angry dem'. Dey can be violent when dey take ya."

"Good." The woman was stunned by Jasmine's voice. She slid into a pause as the room fell quite around her. The men had set their sights on her lustrous curves as her fingers slowly lingered up the bare flesh of her abdominal, then into the lengths of her hair. She smiled into the crowed. The darkness of her soul lurched forward, taking control of her actions from this moment on. Her eyes took in their hungry gaze and used it to feed her anger. She would do this for her people; knowing, these men wanted a show, so she be damned if she was not to give it to them. Slowly the humming beat of drums and tambourines echoed into the room, pulling it into a husky atmosphere. Slowly she took one step forward, her feet mating with the beats of the lingering drum. It lulled her in closer, like a succubus calling in her prey. She smiled sweetly at the men who watched her pass, watching as their grips on the women were falling loose. They all would choose her over some dressed up whore. She would lie to them, to lure them into her web of deceit.

One Arcadian man lay sprawled across a cream lounger, countless women crowed around him. They fed him, filled his drinks and even massaged his toned muscles. He smiled smugly at her, expecting her to go running into his arms. The princess made a point in ignoring this man, she graced past him without a second glance, making her way to the bar ahead. She intended to serve the group their drinks, to clean and pay attention to none who pressed more of her. The twisted humor huffed in her chest, pressing the dark smirk against her lips. Men were far too simple minded, and her game was far too easy for her not to win. She picked up a dirty tray to balancing on her open palm, and then upon the tray she placed a jug of wine. The men still silently watched her every movement and the woman glared enviously. She whisked to the drunken souls, refilling their empty cups. Slowly the chatter picked up again, blending with the tempting music in the background. She longingly gazed up at the men she served, manipulating each one in a different way. Their voices sang around her, calling for refreshments, begging to be the next soul she captivated, all except one. He still lazily watched her over the rim of his cup, ignoring the woman who continuously tried to woo him. Her dark soul cooed in awe. This man was evil; she could feel it pulse off him. It was pure from the heart deep and it beckoned like a fire in his golden gaze. His face was emotionless, unreadable but twisted. The barbarian's hair was pulled back into thick braids, dancing across the couch with subtle dominance. These braids were a sign of power. They showed that this man had never been defeated and that he was in charge. Her eyes briefly met his, sparking the sensual heat deep inside her. Her eyes darkened, head tilting questionably under his gaze. Beckoning him silently, daring him to gain her attention. He rolled his wrists, empty goblet awaiting more liquid. His broad chin lifted, blood thirsty eyes dragging across her form. Quickly her brow lifted, a smirk playing idiotically on her features. With the flick of her hips the princess turned her back on the barbaric man, the woman around him gasped, sounding frightened by her actions.

A shiver tingled through her senses. She knew what was to reward her rudeness, no one denied an Arcadian general. There was a squawk of voices, woman scrambling from the marble floor. The man made a stand, and now was heading for her. Jasmine continued; filling awaiting cups along her way until her jug emptied. The general was closing in on her; hastily she sunk into a cloth door, finding it lead to the liquor storage and a dead end. Perfect. She anticipated him to join her shortly because of her actions, she sighed. This man would ravish her in the most dangerous way she could fathom. Beat her until she bagged. She looked around the room quickly, boxed in by thick barrels. She dragged her fingers against the carved wood and eagerly awaited her doom. She could hear his feet clap the stone, the rugged cloth chimed against his skin. She could feel the heat of his body against her back. Simply she was having trouble ignoring him any longer. His hands thumped against the wood on either side of her, trapping her. The abyss purred as she slowly gazed back at him. In his face she could see the anger burn, his body thickly resting against her backside. There was a deep rumble in his chest, sounded offended by her untamed nature. His hands fell instantly abusive, one going scalp deep into her hair, while the other twisted her arm into the curve of her spine. He shoved her hard into the awaiting barrels, his body following lurch of hers, hard and ready. She groaned, cheek pressed into the ruff wood. He applied pressure, forcing a pained quake through her legs. Shoulder throbbing, she could feel her stomach slowly rise into her throat. Inside she was a frightened girl, but outside she was a deceitful murderer, her darkness made sure of that. "I believe you need to be taught some manners." His hips rolled into her, causing to tense muscles to puff in her chest.

He wanted to teach her some manners did he? Jasmine smiled inwardly. Well…let the games begin.