Fiona, the enchantress, had grown tired of the antics and boorish behavior of Lord Farquaad. In her magical domain, she'd had more than enough of his high-handed orders and his constant insistence on the subjugation of others. She vowed to teach him a lesson he wouldn't soon forget.

One evening, as Fiona tended to her potions in her chamber, Lord Farquaad barged in, demanding that she fulfill yet another one of his outrageous commands. "Enchantress," he said, waving a scroll in the air with an exaggerated flourish, "prepare me a love potion for my next conquest."

Fiona pretended to read the scroll carefully, her eyes narrowing in mock seriousness. She then looked up at him and met his gaze with steely determination. "I can't do that," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. Lord Farquaad scoffed, "What do you mean you can't?"

She stepped closer to him, her eyes never leaving his. "You see, Lord Farquaad, I've decided that it's time for a change," she whispered, the tone of her voice sending shivers down his spine. "I believe you need to learn some humility."

His face flushed red with anger as he tried to reassert his dominance. "Enchantress, you will obey me. You serve at my pleasure."

Fiona chuckled and shook her head. "Not this time," she said. "Tonight, you'll be the one serving me." Before he could retort, Fiona unleashed a powerful spell that rendered him completely naked. Farquaad stumbled backward, his face a mix of shock and shame.

"Lord Farquaad," Fiona began, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "I have devised a special ritual to cleanse you of your arrogance. It involves the ancient art of self-pleasuring, a task I believe you're quite familiar with."

Farquaad spluttered incoherently, his cheeks burning bright red. Fiona stepped forward and handed him a small, silver mirror, smirking at his discomfort. "Look at yourself, my lord," she commanded. "Really look at your naked form."

As he gazed into the mirror, a pang of humiliation washed over him, but it only served to stoke Fiona's dark amusement. She then produced a container filled with thick, fragrant cream. "Apply this liberally," she instructed as she handed the jar to Farquaad.

Lord Farquaad hesitated for a moment longer before obeying her command. He smeared the cream all over his trembling body and finally reached down to grasp his manhood, still red from her spell. Fiona stepped behind him, watching as he fumbled with the unfamiliar sensation of the cream against his skin.

"You know what to do, don't you?" she teased. The words hung in the air like a challenge, and Farquaad's grip tightened around his shaft. He began to stroke himself in earnest, eyes fixed on the mirror where he watched as his body responded to his touch.

Fiona moved closer, her breath hot against his ear. "Imagine it's my hand, Lord Farquaad," she whispered, her own hand coming to rest on his shoulder. The sensation was almost enough for him to lose control at once. He gritted his teeth and tried to focus, the shame and the pleasure building within him.

Fiona continued to torment him with her words and presence, driving him closer and closer to the edge. When it became clear that he couldn't hold on much longer, she leaned in and whispered one final command. "Come for me, Lord Farquaad. Come now."

With a guttural groan, his body convulsed as he spilled his seed across the floor of her chamber, the mirror shattering from the force of his climax. As he slumped forward, panting and trembling, Fiona stepped back, satisfied with her handiwork. "That," she said with a smirk, "was the least humiliating part of your lesson."

From then on, Lord Farquaad was a changed man. He no longer ordered Fiona around as he had before, and his attitude toward others softened considerably. For years afterward, whenever anyone questioned how he'd become such a reformed character, all they needed to do was look at him knowingly and say, "Ask him about the night with the enchantress." And Farquaad would shudder, remembering the most humiliating and arousing moment of his life. }