An Unconventional Arrangement

Patchwork’s eyes fluttered open as he gently awoke. Daylight was flooding through the bedroom window, and the sound of birds chirping graced his ears.

He hadn’t had a good night of sleep. While sleeping in a comfortable four poster bed next to an unbelievably beautiful woman seemed like a pretty good deal, it was a significantly less appealing deal when you consider what position this woman has put him in. Yes, he has housing, and yes, he has good pay, but at what cost?

His dignity, chastity, and safety.

Patchwork ran his hand lightly along the marks on his cheek, wincing slightly at the pain it elicited. His neck had gotten the worst of it; the mark Rarity had gouged into him was deeper than those on his cheek, and would no doubt leave a nasty scar.

The repairman looked down at the woman lying in bed with him, feeling conflicted. She looked a bit troubled in her sleep, a frown on her pale face. She was on her side, her arms wrapped around Patchwork’s right arm and her right leg over his. She rested her head on his chest, and she eventually grew a contented smile.

On one hand, this woman was the most physically perfect woman Patchwork had ever met in his entire life. When they first met, he had seemed so sure that her personality was just as dainty and pure.

Obviously, he had misjudged her.

She shifted in her sleep, hugging Patchwork’s arm tighter and pressing her sex against his side. Patchwork’s face grew red; despite how he felt about Rarity’s personality, with her asleep as she was, he could almost ignore it for the sake of her beauty.

Almost.

Patchwork moved his head, looked straight up at the roof the four poster, and sighed. He dragged his left hand along his face, contemplating what had become of his life.

He was in the middle of his musings when he felt Rarity shift at his side. She let out a few quiet grumbles before her eyes slowly opened, revealing her mesmeric blue irises. She looked up at Patchwork’s face, donned a tired smile, and pressed her head into his chest.

“Good morning,” she stated sleepily.

“Good morning,” Patchwork replied blankly, unsure what to do in this kind of situation.

Rarity placed her right hand on the right side of his jaw, eliciting a flinch from the man. She slowly brought his head to the side to face her. Her eyes met his for only a moment before they shifted to the marks on his cheek. She ran her fingers over them carefully, noticing that Patchwork had locked up.

Rarity scooted forwards, digging her groin into Patchwork’s side and her head moving over his until her lips were right next to his ear.

“Patchwork?” she asked in a whisper, tickling his ear with her warm breath.

“Yes?” he responded in the same hushed tone, albeit more nervously.

“Does it hurt?” Her fingers continued to stroke his cheek gently.

“...Yes,” Patchwork admitted quietly. Her head moved back a bit and descended over his cheek. She gave his abused face a light and lingering kiss. Moving downwards, her fingertips traced down his jaw and over the cut on his neck.

“And here?” Rarity asked. Patchwork slowly nodded. Her lips touched down on his injury, causing Patchwork to bite his tongue to avoid from making any pained sounds.

Rarity laid her head on Patchwork’s chest and held him tightly, her long hair tickling his nose.

“All better?” Rarity asked.

“Yeah,” Patchwork replied, curious about her behavior. He hadn’t expected her to feel any kind of true remorse over her actions.

Rarity sat up in bed, the covers flowing off of her and revealing her angelic body. She stretched her arms into the air and let out a subdued yawn, cracking a few sore spots. She slipped fully out of the covers as she rose from the bed, the crossed over to a rack of clothing.

“I have to pick up my little sister from a slumber party,” she informed Patchwork as she looked for an outfit to wear for the day. “Sweet girl, really, but always with her head in the clouds…”

Rarity pulled out two dresses and held them up and either side of her nude form. One was a dark ruffled jersey dress, and the other a yellow sundress.

“Which one?” she asked, taking turns moving each dress in front of her body, looking to Patchwork for a second opinion. He sat up and looked at the dresses briefly, then back to his employer.

“Um...the dark one,” he chose, pointing to the jersey dress. He’d never had much of an eye for fashion, but didn’t see the point in wearing a sundress in the fall.

Rarity nodded and put the sundress back onto the rack, then walked over to a wardrobe.

“In any event…” she continued as she pulled out two black undergarments. “...I’ll be out for a while. You may not leave the building. If you do, you’ll never step foot in it again.” She donned the panties, but seemed to have some difficulty with the brassiere. “A little help, if you please?”

Patchwork rose from the bed, shivering slightly as he felt the cold morning air on his bare body. He stepped over the pile of clothes that he had so shamefully removed the previous night and walked up to Rarity. Her eyes lingered on him for a moment before she turned around, holding her chest. Patchwork carefully clipped the brassiere, then stepped back.

Rarity turned around to face the man. There was an uncomfortable moment in which no words were exchanged, and Rarity simply stared at Patchwork.

Eventually she cleared her throat and began to put on the dress.

“You may help yourself to anything in the pantry,” Rarity told him. “If you wish to get a headstart on your work for the day, the pile of damaged garments is back in the sewing room.”

Rarity slipped on a pair of flats, then walked to the door. Suddenly, she stopped in her tracks, pondering something. Turning around, she slowly walked up to Patchwork, who, to his credit, didn’t back away.

Placing her hands on his shoulders, Rarity stood up on her tiptoes to kiss Patchwork on the lips. The kiss was more akin to the ones she had used to address his abused body than the ones of heated passion they’d shared the night before.

Pulling back, Rarity looked into Patchwork’s eyes for a moment before looking down and shaking her head. Saying nothing ,she turned around and exited the room, leaving Patchwork alone, naked, and confused.

Shaking his head to clear his morning drowsiness, Patchwork walked to the bathroom. The room was rather simply designed, having the same consistent colors of white and lavender adorning the walls and floor as the rest of the building does. The sink had many products lined up on it, but all Patchwork was looking for was something to rub the scent of Rarity’s arousal off of him. He decided on a simple bar of hand soap, then entered the shower and turned to cold tap all the way.

Running the soap over his body and into his scalp, Patchwork began to speak to himself.

“Out of all the bosses in the world, I get stuck with the psychotic one...typical.”

The more he thought about his situation, the more frustrated he became. If he quit, he’d probably never find a job as high paying as this ever again, and then just starve or freeze to death after his funds inevitably run out. If he sticks it out, he not only loses his dignity and chastity, but also physical well being.

He winced as the cold water ran over the marks that Rarity had left him with.

“If that’s where cursing gets me...I don’t even want to think about what else she could do…”

But he still thought about it. Images of Rarity torturing him still ran through his mind. Breaking his arms with a baseball bat, cutting his tongue out with a sewing needle; you’ll be spared the rest. Patchwork was rather imaginative.

Even when they had ‘made up’, Rarity nearly caused him to asphyxiate when she refused to pull away as they kissed.

Patchwork thought about fighting back. He wasn’t exactly the strongest guy on the block, but could still beat Rarity in a fight, no doubt about it.

He eventually dismissed the thought. For one thing, he didn’t feel comfortable with hitting a woman, even considering the circumstances. For another, if Rarity went to court with a black eye, he had no doubt that he would be convicted. Unwarranted violent action, especially on a woman, was not something taken lightly in Equestria. He’d never hold a job again for as long as he lived. And no matter what, hurting her could get him fired.

Frustrated, Patchwork slammed his fist against the tile wall the shower. He pulled back and shook his hand, hissing through his teeth at the pain. At the very least, he had vented some of his anger.

“Okay...okay, gotta think of someway out of this. There has to be something…”

Patchwork turned off the shower head and stepped out of the shower, then grabbed a nearby towel. He internally wracked his brain for an answer as he roughly dried his hair. Suddenly, something came to mind.

Blackmail.

If he could find some dirt on her, something that she couldn’t live with somebody knowing, even some kind of secret that could put her entire business under, he could use it against her. In exchange for his secrecy, he’d ask for enough money to lease a home in Ponyville, and for her to stop her sexual and physical abuse. He’d keep the job; it was the only one with prospect he’d been able to find since his home and livelihood were destroyed.

Of course, there was a possibility that Rarity would simply kill him. Nobody in town knew him, so no one would file a missing person’s report.

On the other hand, a murder hadn’t occured in Equestria in the past five hundred years, so the chances of Rarity being crazy enough to do something that extreme were slim. But, just in case, he thought it would be a good idea for him to become mutual friends with Rarity’s friends. That way, Rarity wouldn’t be able to kill him without suspicions in her friends raising.

Reinvigorated by his plan, Patchwork finished drying off and exited the bathroom. He collected his clothing from the floor and put them on: a white button down, black slacks, and black socks. The rest of his clothing he’d worn for the interview was downstairs, beside the couch.

It occurred to him that all he possessed in the building that he could call his own was the suit he had worn. The rest of his meager belongings were in a small suitcase back at the motel. He made a mental note to pick it up later.

Taking advantage of Rarity’s absence, he searched her bedroom. In the wardrobe, below the bed, behind the racks of clothing; Patchwork searched everything, yet found nothing. No incriminating notes, no deed, nothing.

But then, Patchwork noticed something. There was an area of the floor that was just a shade lighter than the rest of the floor, in the shape of a rectangle, the size of a large book.

“Patchwork!”

Patchwork’s eyes opened wide as he heard the familiar voice calling from downstairs.

“Patchwork, where are you?” Rarity’s voice called. Cursing his terrible luck, Patchwork resolved to check the strange floor later.

“C-Coming, Rarity!” Patchwork yelled. He rushed out of the room and down the stairs, into the main room of the boutique. Rarity was standing with her hands on her hips, tapping her foot against the floor impatiently. Beside her was a small girl that looked around ten years old. She had a skin tone just a tad darker than Rarity’s pale complexion. Her eyes had emerald green irises, and her hair was two toned: periwinkle and pink. She was wearing a simple white dress with a pink trim, and was holding her hands together in front of her.

In a nutshell, she was a cute kid.

“There you are!” Rarity said. She put out a hand to gesture to the girl. “Patchwork, this is my sister Sweetie Belle. Sweetie Belle, this is the man I told you about, Mr. Patchwork. He’ll be staying in the guest room whilst working here.”

Sweetie Belle looked up at Patchwork and flashed him a smile, and he couldn’t help from smiling back.

“Hi!” Sweetie Belle said, holding out her hand. Patchwork took it in his and shook it gently. “Nice to meet you!”

“Nice to meet you too, Sweetie Belle,” Patchwork said. Sweetie withdrew her hand and pointed at his face.

“I heard Opal got you pretty good,” Sweetie said lightly. “She scratched me the first time she saw me too.”

“Opal?” Patchwork said, confused. “Who’s Opal?” Rarity’s eyes widened, but Sweetie continued before she could interrupt.

“Rarity’s cat,” Sweetie answered. She looked up to her sister. “I thought you said Opal scratched Mr. Patchwork?”

“Well, you see-” Rarity began before Patchwork interrupted.

“I wasn’t even aware that you had a cat, Rarity.”

Patchwork felt pretty good seeing Rarity being entangled in her web of lies. He didn’t feel too threatened, either. So long as her sister was in front of her, Rarity wasn’t likely to-

“O-Oh, Patchwork,” Rarity said with a forced smile. “You kidder, you. Er, may I speak with you in private?”

“May I speak with you in private what?” Patchwork asked with a smirk. Rarity glared at him, but held her tongue.

“May I speak with you in private...please?” Rarity asked with fake sweetness in her voice. Patchwork shrugged and gestured to a dressing room.

“After you, milady,” he said sarcastically. Rarity just huffed and walked in. Patchwork gave Sweetie Belle a wink, then followed his boss.

Rarity was in the corner of the room, looking absolutely livid. Patchwork walked over to with his hands in his pockets nonchalantly.

“What’s up, boss?” Was what he said directly before he was whacked upside the head; thankfully, Rarity took care to hit him in the side of his head, over his hair, so no one could see the bruise that would develop.

“What in Celestia’s name is the matter with you?” Rarity asked in a harsh whisper. Patchwork glared at her as he rubbed his sore head.

“Good morning to you, too.” Is what he was saying up until Rarity kicked him in the shin.

Hard.

Patchwork immediately bit down on his fist to muffle his outcry of pain. Rarity walked up,  grabbed a first full of his hair, and pulled him down to look at him face to face.

“Listen, you imbecile,” she said angrily, hushing her voice so as not to let Sweetie Belle hear. “I told you what would happen if you told anybody what’s happening between us. But that doesn’t even compare to what I’ll do to you if you tell my sweet innocent sister.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Patchwork said with a grimace, trying to block out the pain.

“Very good,” Rarity said through clenched teeth. She let go of Patchwork’s hair, and was about to exit when she turned back around.

“Oh, you’ve got something on your leg,” she noted. Patchwork, out of reflex, looked down, and then nearly fell over in pain when Rarity slapped him in the crotch with the back of her hand.

“Got it,” Rarity quipped with a smirk, then exited the dressing room, leaving Patchwork to fall to his knees with his legs crossed. But it didn’t take too long for that satisfied smirk to turn into a thoughtful frown.

“Patchwork!”

Patchwork tiredly looked up from the sewing machine. He’d been working for a few hours now, and was just about to get done patching up a rather difficult dress. Difficult as in it was more like he was working with a pile of tatters than a dress.

Rarity was standing at the door, still in her ruffle dress and flats. She had been busy for most of the day, attending to clients, but every so often she would check on Patchwork to see if he was earning his pay.

“Meet me in the bathroom,” Rarity said briefly, then turned around and walked to the very place she had mentioned.

Patchwork was concerned, seeing as the last time they had been in private, he had gotten punished, but resigned to the truth that whatever she says pretty much goes.

He walked into her bedroom, then into her bathroom.

Rarity was wearing nothing but a towel, and was bent over facing away from Patchwork, fiddling with the bath taps. The tub was slowly filling, and steam was beginning to fill the room.

“Lock the door, would you?” Rarity requested. Patchwork was a bit apprehensive, but did as she asked. If Sweetie Belle walked in on them, things could get awkward. And traumatizing.

Mostly traumatizing.

Rarity turned around and raised an eyebrow at Patchwork.

“Well, hurry up,” Rarity said, gesturing to him. “Disrobe.”

“Um...why?” Patchwork asked, not eager to be used again. Rarity scoffed and eyed the level of the bathwater.

“Oh, please. You’re just helping me bathe. Nothing extreme.”

“What do you mean, ‘helping you bathe’? Patchwork questioned.

Rarity faced him and took the towel off, causing Patchwork to blush. He still hadn’t gotten used to seeing her bare body. He very much doubted that he ever would. She poked him in the chest, causing him to flinch involuntarily.

“Less questions, more nudity,” Rarity said with a soft smirk.

“...Fine.”

Patchwork quickly undressed, thankful that Rarity didn’t tell him to slow down, and threw the clothes in the corner of the bathroom. Rarity’s eyes lingered on him once again, but she tore her eyes away to turn off the bath taps. She gestured to the tub.

“Age before beauty,” she said with what Patchwork felt was an unnecessary amount of snark. Rolling his eyes, he entered, his muscles relaxing from the hot water.

“I thought you said that I was going to be bathing you?” Patchwork said. Rarity stepped over the rim of the bathtub and stood in the water with her back facing her employee. She sat down in his lap, her rear pressing his member to his stomach. Patchwork hissed through his teeth, the sensation of her soft skin against his length sending a small wave of pleasure through him.

Rarity tossed her hair in front of her shoulders, so as to give Patchwork some room to work. With a wave of her hand, her fingertips began to glow a ghostly sky blue, the same glow enveloping a bar of hand soap sitting on the edge of the bath, as well as a loofa that had been placed on a shelf above them. Both the soap and the loofah were levitated behind her, where Patchwork grasped them with either hand, momentarily feeling Rarity’s warm and tickling magic. The magic field dissipated, and Rarity shifted in the tub, causing Patchwork to nearly drop the equipment.

“Well?” Rarity asked.

“Uh…” Patchwork asked, his eyes on Rarity’s bare back. Patchwork felt a magical glow envelop him before his head was forcibly slammed into the ceramic wall.

“F-mmmmph!” Patchwork groaned in pain, biting his tongue before he could finish the expletive. He felt a warm and sticky liquid begin to seep into his hair.

“I said to bathe me, now bathe me!” Rarity growled, her magic dissipating once again.. Patchwork quickly wet the loofah, rubbed the soap against it, and started to scrub Rarity’s back, enduring the pain emanating from the back of his head.

As the minutes went by, no words were exchanged between the two. Patchwork was too afraid of being injured again, and Rarity was too deep in thought.

“Can’t have them run away,” Rarity mumbled under her breath. "Have to assert dominance, have to...have to cause pain, it’s necessary, or they’ll just leave…”

“Rarity?” Patchwork said with trepidation, then flinched back when Rarity turned her head to look over her shoulder.

“What?!” she nearly screamed. Patchwork flinched, but pressed on.

“I-I was just going to ask you to lift your arm,” Patchwork explained fearfully. “For the bathing, I mean.”

Rarity exhaled loudly out her nose, and the fire in her eyes died a bit. She lifted her arm, and Patchwork gently scrubbed at it.

“I’m not going to break, you know,” Rarity complained, yet in a much tamer tone of voice than the one she’d been berating him with previously. “Just...have at it.”

Patchwork compiled, using more force to roughly scrub her down. After a minute, he moved on to the other silky arm, giving it the same treatment. He noticed that Rarity was making small grunting noises of displeasure from his roughness, but didn’t voice his observations. She’s the one that suggested it, after all.

“Patchwork?” Rarity asked suddenly after a few minutes of silence.

“Y-Yes?”

“What, um…” Rarity began, sounding uncharacteristically shy, “...what do you think of me?”

Patchwork stopped cleaning her, surprised by the question.

“...I don’t think I can tell you that,” Patchwork admitted.

“You have a mouth, don’t you?”

“I mean, I don’t think I can tell you and get out of this room in one piece.”

That silenced Rarity for a moment, and she looked down, wringing her hands. Patchwork was on guard, expecting her to off him right then and there, but all she did was sit there, ruminating.

“...I think that answered my question,” Rarity said quietly. Clearing her throat, she leaned her back against Patchwork’s body, laying her head on his shoulder. “I just thought it could be...useful information.”

“Useful for what?” Patchwork asked, trying and failing to ignore that Rarity was pressing herself against his naked body.

“For our act,” Rarity said cryptically.

“Um...what act?

“Well, tomorrow, we’ll be going to have lunch with some of my friends.”

Patchwork looked down at her, both a bit surprised that a woman vindictive as this one had multiple friends to speak of, and confused as to why he of all people had to come to this lunch she’d planned.

“O...kay, but I don’t see how that involves an act.”

Rarity looked up at him, completely straight faced.

"You'll be pretending to be my boyfriend."