An Unconventional Arrangement

by The Weakest Link

Rating: mature
Tags: Romance, Human, Dark
Length: 12029

Rarity hires a man to work in her boutique. Little does he know of her true intent...

Tirek's rampage through Equestria came with some unforeseen consequences…namely, a recession.

Enter Patchwork, a repairman whose business and home were destroyed by the power hungry centaur. In desperation, he travels the country in search for a job, but has little luck.

Until one fateful day, when Rarity hires him at Carousel Boutique to fix clothing…and he discovers that he has to repair something much more important than a dress…

Warning: [spoiler]This story contains both graphic depictions of sex, depictions of sexual harassment, and depictions of physical abuse. Do not read this if these things offend you.[/spoiler]

Editor: The Cake Devil

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2015-07-24 14:27:11 UTC

Chapter 1

Patchwork awoke to a shrill scream.

“Rarity!” Patchwork yelled in a panic, jumping up from the couch and bounding up the stairs. He threw the door to her bedroom open and entered, expecting to see her injured, or dying, or having a nightmare, or-

“Hello, Patchwork.”

Patchwork jumped at the sudden voice from behind him, turning to see that Rarity was standing next to the door. She shut it quickly, and smiled at him with lidded eyes.

“By Luna, you scared the hell out of me,” Patchwork said, his hand to his heart. He noticed that Rarity was wearing casual nightwear: a large plain T-shirt, and a black pair of leggings that hugged her hips snuggly.

“Sorry, Patchwork,” Rarity said, pouting. “I didn’t mean to.” She started to approach him slowly.

“It’s...it’s fine, but why did you scream?” Patchwork asked, trying to keep his eyes on her face.

“How else was I supposed to get you in here so quickly?” Rarity asked, smiling playfully. She was standing right in front of him now, and traced a finger on his clothed chest. “Be a dear and back up a bit, would you?”

Patchwork swallowed and shook nervously, not understanding what was happening.

“Why?” he asked.

“I asked nicely, didn’t I?” Rarity said quietly. Patchwork didn’t see any harm in it, and back up, Rarity’s finger pushing him by the center of his chest. Eventually, the back of his legs hit her bed. He was about to question Rarity further when she pushed him by the shoulders, causing him to fall onto the bed. Rarity wasn’t far behind, hopping up into his lap.

Leaning forwards, she quickly grabbed his wrists and pinned them over his head on the bed. Her long purple hair hung down and draped either side of her coy, playful face.

“R-R-R-Rarity?” Patchwork stuttered, not knowing what to make of this development.

“Mhm?” she hummed, lowering her head ever so slowly.

“Wh-What’s happening?”

“I’m seducing you,” she said slowly, her lips only an inch from his.

“But-Mph!”

Her lips pressed into his. Spreading her mouth open, her tongue flicked against his lips momentarily before forcefully entering his mouth. It slowly trailed along his own tongue, twirled around his canines, and then pulled out. Their lips made an audible ‘pop’ as they separated, a small length of saliva connecting their lips. Rarity licked her lips, cutting the strand of saliva and taking it into her mouth. She smirked at him, amused.

“You’re a terrible kisser.”

“I, uh…sorry?”

“Don’t worry. We have plenty time to practice.”

She lowered her head quickly and entered into another kiss, her tongue entering his mouth once again. Hesitantly, he began to move his mouth in tandem with hers, his tongue slowly playing with hers until it developed into a half-hearted battle for dominance. Before the winner was decided, Rarity pulled away again. Removing her hands from his wrists, she sat up in his lap.

She pulled her t-shirt over her head and tossed it to the side, revealing her lacy white brassiere. She deftly removed it and threw it behind her, then turned her attention to the man before her. His brain fought with his primal urges as his eyes struggled to meet Rarity’s face.

She readjusted herself, sitting on her knees on either side of him, then leaned forwards, using her arms to support herself on either side of his head. Her ample breasts hung over him, begging for his attention.

“R-Rarity, I-“ Patchwork began, but Rarity cut him off my leaning down and engulfing his face in her chest. She smiled as she felt the heat radiating from his face transfer to her breasts.

“Play with me…” Rarity ordered huskily, her eyes half lidded.

“I really don’t think-“Rarity pressed her breasts further into his face.

“It wasn’t a question,” she reminded him. She pulled away, content to simply have her breasts situated a mere inch above him, giving him ample room to play. “Now.”

There was a pause in which he simply lay there, contemplating the situation that he’d been presented with, and weighing the pros and cons of said situation. Eventually, his hands slowly began to make their way to her chest, unsure and wavering. When they finally reached their target, they gently closed around both of them, fingers towards her sides and thumbs above her pink, erect nipples. He silently marveled at how soft, yet firm, they were. His eyes went back to Rarity’s, a question in his eyes. She gave him nod and a sultry smirk, and his eyes returned to her chest.

Patchwork leaned his head up, still quite unsure of himself. He brought his mouth to her left nipple, stroking it with his tongue, then withdrew and blew lightly onto it. Rarity shuddered from the cool sensation on such a sensitive part of her body, her breasts vibrating ever so slightly. His hands began to grope against her breasts, kneading them with his hands. His thumbs ran circles around her nipples, gently twirling them. Rarity’s breathing became heavier with each passing moment, the pleasure from having her sensitive breasts toyed with fully evident. She began to gently grind against him, believing that he deserved as much. He quietly groaned from the sensation; a groan that was quickly quieted when Rarity lowered herself and pressed her nipple into his mouth.

He sat there for a moment, trying to think of what to do. He didn’t exactly have a giant amount of sexual experience; certainly not any with a woman like this. Suddenly, something came to mind.

He lightly bit against her nipple, then looked up to gauge her reaction. A breath caught in her throat, her mouth slightly open and her eyes lidded. He didn’t break eye contact as he lightly sucked, then gave a harder bite. Her eyes shut as she moaned, squirming above him. He moved on to the next breast, repeating the process, eliciting the same reaction.

She suddenly sat up in his lap, wincing in a mixture of pain and pleasure as his teeth pulled against her nipple before it was freed from his clutches.

“W-What’s wrong?” Patchwork timidly asked, afraid that he had overstepped his bounds. She just smiled and cupped his face in her silky hand, stroking his cheek.

“Oh, nothing’s wrong,” she assured warmly. “I just thought we could move on to something a bit more…advanced.”

He gulped nervously as her hand trailed down his bare chest, a single finger drawing circles around his nipple.

“What did you have in m-mind?” Patchwork asked, trying to bolster his confidence. She responded by standing up slowly, her bare feet sinking into the bed on either side of him. The angle gave him a remarkable view; her leggings had sunk slightly into her womanhood, outlining it perfectly. His busy eyes noticed that a small damp spot had collected in that particular area, and he quickly looked away in embarrassment.

Rarity inserted a thumb on either side of her leggings, then, in an impressive display of flexibility, leaned forwards as she pulled them down, her hips never wavering, her legs completely straight. She fell to her knees, situating them on either side of his neck. She sat on his stomach, causing a musky liquid to collect. She leaned down until her nose was to his.

“How good are you with your mouth?” she asked breathily. Patchwork’s eyes opened wide and looked to hers, not quite believing what he was hearing.

“Uh…”

Rarity rolled her eyes and poked the tip of his nose with her tongue.

“Have you ever gone down on a girl?” she reiterated. Patchwork’s face flushed and he looked away from her, but then a strong scent entered his nostrils. He sniffed. Once. Twice. Savoring its sweetness, trying to place the scent. He looked back into her eyes as he determined it.

Strawberries.

Her smile grew, and her eyes narrowed.

“Now…” she drew out, slowly moving her body further up his own. “I’ve been awfully stressed as of late, and I could use a little something to…take the edge off.”

Patchwork looked up, trying to maintain eye contact with her, not daring to look down.

“…I t-think I saw a merlot in the fridge earlier.”

She suddenly lowered her hips, and Patchwork felt something wet grind against his chest. The sweet scent pervaded his nose, causing him to inhale deeply. He shuddered as Rarity stroked his hair, pulling it through her lithe fingers.

“Lick.” Rarity breathed.

“Rarity, this really isn’t appropri-“Rarity moved up his body, dragging her flower against him, leaving a shallow wet trail. Patchwork felt the sticky liquid coat his chest, the base of his neck, and finally his chin. The scent was overpowering now, causing him to feel a lightness in his head.

Patchwork’s eyes glued to Rarity’s flat stomach, refusing to glance down.

“Rarity, I can’t do this,” Patchwork finally said, shutting his eyes. “You need to get off of me, put your clothes back on, and forget this ever happened. I’m sorry, b-but this is just too much.”

“You could have pushed me off when you were kissing me,” Rarity reminded him, straightening up and balancing herself on her knees. “Or when you played with my chest…” she slowly began to lower herself. “Or when I was taking my leggings off…”

Patchwork’s eyes were closed shut at this point, the scent overflowing his senses to the point where thinking straight was a tiring affair.

“I just…I-I…”

“If you just open your eyes,” Rarity began, “I’ll leave the room.”

Patchwork shook all over, nervous and uncomfortable.

“…Promise?” he ventured. He felt a single hand grip the back of his head and gently pull it upwards.

“Promise.”

Patchwork’s eyes fluttered open, and as soon as it was in sight his vision focused solely on it.

Rarity’s pink, swollen lips sat between her long, pale, slender thighs. It was perfect in every way imaginable; perfectly shaven, perfectly sized, perfectly wet.

In a word: intoxicating.

Patchwork took in a deep breath in an attempt to get his head on straight, but that was a grave error on his part. Rarity’s sweet scent entered him, enraptured him, and didn’t let go. He’d never done anything like this before, but…suddenly, he was warming up to the idea.

He leaned up, ready to give Rarity the attention that she demanded, as well as so richly deserved, when she suddenly climbed off of him and bed.

“Well, I’ll be off then,” Rarity said casually, putting her clothes back on, taking particularly long time to pull up her leggings.

“W-What?” Patchwork asked, surprised. “Why?” Rarity looked up at the young man and tilted her head, her eyes big and innocent.

“I believe it was you who made me promise to leave the room once you opened your eyes,” Rarity reminded him, toying with him. “As you can clearly see, they have opened, and I shall be taking my leave.”

“But…but…” he trailed off, his nose twitching. The scent of her sex had set a flame deep inside of him, and it was just growing stronger and brighter. Rational thought began to funnel out his head, taking all of his insecurity and shyness with it, and was replaced by a single solitary sensation.

Lust.

Unimaginably powerful, madness driving, insatiable lust.

“And I had felt so stressed, too.” Rarity sighed as she slowly headed for the door, feigning disappointment. “If only I had been able to blow off some steam…oh well…”

Patchwork jumped off the bed, crossed the room, and grabbed Rarity by the wrist.

“Whatever are you-“Rarity began to protest, but paused as she looked into his face. He looked furious, demanding…

…Alluring.

“You want to blow off some steam?” the man asked heatedly. “How’s this for blowing off steam?”

And with that, he grabbed the back of her head, pulled her face into his, and forcibly shoved his tongue into her mouth. Rarity’s eyes widened for a moment before closing in pleasure, her mouth working against his. Their tongues twisted and writhed and wrestled, their lips mashing against one another in blind ecstasy.

Patchwork slipped his hand under her shirt and made a grab for her right breast, gripping it roughly.

Rarity groaned into his mouth at the unexpected pressure being exerted on her chest, but the groans of protest soon became moans of approval as he violently groped her. After a minute of his ministrations, he pulled away from the kiss, breathing heavily. They looked into each others eyes for a moment until Rarity broke the silence.

“Are you quite finished?” she asked, raising an eyebrow and sounding quite unimpressed.

“…Excuse me?”

“I asked, ‘is the little girl done with her middle school malarkey?’” Rarity said, her lips curling

into a cruel smile.

Patchwork’s eye twitched.

“That’s it!” he yelled. Bending down, he wrapped his arms around Rarity’s thighs, then stood, carrying her over his shoulder.

“Oh, I think I made her mad,” Rarity said, failing to stifle a giggle. Patchwork growled and turned around, marching up to the bed. Once there, he threw Rarity onto it, none too gently. Rarity backed up as Patchwork climbed onto the bed and crawled after her. Eventually her back pressed against a pillow adorning the headboard, and she looked towards the man eagerly.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Rarity asked mockingly, spreading her legs open. “An invitation?”

Patchwork answered by grabbing the fabric of her leggings that rested on her crotch and pulled in opposite directions, tearing a hole big enough to clearly view her beautiful vulva.

“Hey!” she protested. “That was designer!”

Patchwork slammed a hand over her mouth, cutting off any further complaints.

“You told me to lick,” he said angrily. “So shut the hell up, and let me work.” Rarity slowly nodded, and he removed his hand. On his knees before her, he wrapped his arms around her legs, pulled her forwards, and leaned his head towards his prize. He licked his lips as he leaned in, but suddenly a bit of rationality and coherent thought entered his head.

He’d never done this before. What the hell was he supposed to do?

He supposed that he would just try whatever, then adjust based on her reaction accordingly.

He wanted her to enjoy this, if only to spite her.

Patchwork pointed his tongue out and gave her clitoris an experimental lick. Rarity squirmed a bit, but otherwise, no reaction. He then poked a few more times with the tip of his tongue, trying various speeds, but upon looking up and seeing Rarity’s expression, he stopped.

Alright, so no pointed licks. What about…

He laid his tongue flat out against his lower lip, then dragged it along her sex, covering the entirety of her vulva. Rarity let out a high pitched coo, encouraging him to continue, making broad strokes with his tongue. The flavor was heavenly, the texture divine.

He made slow, wide, lingering licks along her button, causing her to curl her toes and squirm on the bedspread. He leaned forwards a bit farther and grazed it with his teeth. Rarity sucked in her breath, losing control of her body as every moment passed, approaching closer and closer to arrival.

His long, broad strokes went on for minutes, his hands lightly massaging her still-clothed thighs. Never once did his tongue tire, never once did he falter. The taste drove him forwards, the sweet nectar acting as a powerful incentive for his service.

Eventually becoming a bit more adventurous, he pushed the first two fingers of his right hand into her underhanded, then curled his fingers and pulled back and forth. Rarity, losing herself to the ecstasy, leaned forwards and grabbed the back of his head, then pulled it into her sex.

Patchwork’s yelp of surprise was muffled by her flower, and the vibrations, along with the work of his fingers, made her moan louder than ever.

Realizing she was close, he quickly maneuvered his tongue behind her urethra, directly on top of her g-spot, and stroked it vigorously. His fingers went into overtime, pulling in and out faster and faster, his tongue work becoming rougher and sloppier, until finally…

“I’m…I’m…Oh, Celestia!” she screamed out, wrapping her thighs around his head and trapping him. She finally arrived, a sweet smelling liquid propelling itself from her and coating Patchwork’s face. He drunkenly lapped up as much of it as he could, savoring its fruity flavor.

Eventually, her orgasm subsided, and her legs went limp. Patchwork freed himself from her slender thighs and looked up at her.

Rarity’s eyes were lidded, her face was red, she was breathing heavily, and her tongue was laying outside of her mouth. Patchwork dragged an index along her vulva, causing her to shudder, then placed it on her tongue. She leaned her head forwards a bit, closing her mouth around his finger and sucking on it lightly, rolling her tongue around it before pulling away, a contented sigh escaping her.

“How’s that for blowing off steam?” Patchwork asked cockily.

“…Eh,” she said indifferently, her tone completely contrasting with her hot and bothered state.

Patchwork’s bravado and cockiness immediately melted away and turned to anger and frustration.

“Eh?!” He repeated loudly, straightening up and sitting on his knees.

“I’ve…had worse?” she decided noncommittally, barely keeping uproarious, and rather unladylike, laughter back as she noted his look of fury.

“Why you…you…you know what, screw it,” he said finally.

“Pardon?” she asked, sitting up. “I thought we were done here.”

“I’m…lift your arms, would you?” Patchwork asked, grabbing the bottom of Rarity’s shirt. She complied, knowing exactly where he was going with this. It didn’t stop her from feigning ignorance, though. He pulled it off and it joined his own shirt on the ground. He ignored her freed breasts and moved on to her leggings.

“I’m going to have sex with you,” he stated begrudgingly as he pulled them off, tossing the ruined piece of clothing along with the rest.

“Oh, will you now?” Rarity asked, crossing her legs. “And what if I don’t want to?”

Patchwork paused, then looked at her with a confused expression.

“I  thought that was what all this was about,” he said, gesturing to her and the bed.

“Nooo…” Rarity drew out, reaching to the bedside table and grabbing both a pair of reading glasses and a small book. “This was about my desire to de-stress. You did nothing a simple trip to the spa couldn’t.” She grinned at him evilly as she donned her glasses. “Well…at least you were cheaper.”

Patchwork stared at her, his mouth agape. Never before had he felt such a combination of anger, humiliation, and helplessness.

“The hell did you just say to me?” he asked heatedly.

“I said that you were cheap,” Rarity repeated, not even bothering to look up from her book. “Now get into bed, go to sleep, and never speak of this again.

“And what if I do tell somebody? Huh?” Patchwork asked, bluffing for all he was worth.

“You’ll be out of a job sooner than you can say ‘plaything’.” Rarity threatened conversationally, leaning back against her pillow. “Get in the bed.”

“You want me to sleep next to you?” Patchwork asked, baffled. “After everything we did? After everything you just said?”

Rarity looked up from her book and smiled at him.

“I get cold,” she said tauntingly. “Get in the bed, or you’re sleeping out on the road, out of a job.”

Patchwork weighed his options. Given the current state of Equestrian as far as unemployment rates went, he had two. One: Leave with his dignity intact, no money, no experience, and try his hand at finding a single drop in the dried up puddle of the job market.

Or two…

“I’m waaiiiitiinng!” Rarity sang out.

Patchwork dragged his hand down his face and growled. Like he really had a choice, anyway. He crossed over to the opposite side of the bed and pulled the covers up.

“Ah-ah-ah!” Rarity said. “I want you in the bed. I didn’t say anything about clothes.”

Patchwork dropped the cover and glared at her.

“You’re telling me to strip now?” he asked, hands on his hips. Rarity smiled pleasantly and narrowed her eyes.

“Oh, dear. You’re even stupider than I had initially thought. Yes, I’m telling you to ‘strip’, as you so eloquently put it. Go all natural. Disrobe. Get. Naked.”

“This is sexual harassment!” Patchwork protested loudly.

“Why, yes it is,” Rarity pondered. “How observant of you. Now hush up and take your clothes off.”

“…Fine,” Patchwork grumbled, grabbing the bottom of his shirt roughly and lifting it up.

“No no no, stop,” Rarity ordered.

“What now?!” Patchwork yelled, letting go of his shirt.

“Give me a moment,” Rarity requested. Taking as much care and time as possible, she took off her glasses, placed them on the bedside table, placed her book along with it, then laid out on the bed on her side, facing Patchwork.

“Now,” Rarity finally said, waving her hand. “Disrobe.”

Once again, Patchwork began to pull off his shirt, but Rarity interrupted him once again.

“Slowly…”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Patchwork shouted, letting go of his shirt once again. By the time it no longer obstructed his view, Rarity was right in front of him, on her knees, with her hand reached back.

Patchwork felt a hand that he had once viewed as delicate and cute deliver a vicious backhand to his cheek, four immaculately painted nails leaving four long, shallow cuts. He immediately flinched to the side, crying out in pain and surprise. Rarity grabbed his jaw with her other hand, holding it firm in front of her.

“Look at me…” she ordered quietly. He pulled away from her hand, but her grasp was like iron.

“Look at me!” she shouted shrilly, causing him to pause. His eyes met her, and it was then that he knew fear. Her beautiful royal blue eyes had suddenly taken on a look of fury; one that he would not soon forget.

“I will not allow profanity under this roof,” she informed, her voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes moved to his cheek, and the fire behind them dwindled.

“Oh, look what you made me do…” she said remorsefully, a hand stroking his injured face while her other held him firm. “I do hope my hand is never forced again…it’s a shame to see such a wonderful face like this being punished…but then again, how else can you keep a pet in line?”

Patchwork just stared at her, frozen in fear. She looked up at him, looking genuinely sorry. Somehow, that just made him fear her more.

“Can you ever forgive me?” she asked sweetly, her eyes watery and her lip quivering.

“I-I…I…” Patchwork said, disoriented and afraid. She began to idly drag a nail down the side of his neck, leaving a small line of blood.

“I would be ever so grateful if you did,” Rarity promised, then, with her expression consistent, began to dig her nail into his neck as she dragged it down, slicing a thin, jagged cut into it.

“I-I forgive you, I forgive you!” Patchwork yelled out in a panic. The pressure on his neck decreased and Rarity pulled the offending hand away, still holding his head firm with the other. She smiled widely, her eyes sparkling.

“Really? You truly forgive me?” she asked hopefully. Patchwork nodded fervently.

“Y-Yes, I forgive you, I swear.” Rarity’s smile decreased.

“…But how do we prove that?” she asked herself quietly. She let go of his face, then wiped the blood that had accumulated on her hand onto her chest. She suddenly lit up and shot him a full smile.

“Oh, here’s a thought!” Rarity said brightly. She leaned forwards until her face was but an inch from his. He didn’t dare move away.

“Kiss me…” she breathed.

He hesitated. He would have been happy to kiss the beautiful woman before him not ten minutes ago, but now…now…

“Why aren’t you kissing me?” Rarity whined, stroking his hair. “I thought you said you forgave me...”

Patchwork gulped, seeing no way out of this situation. Shutting his eyes, he leaned forwards and gave her a quick peck on the lips. When he pulled back and opened his eyes, she was pouting at him.

“I said to kiss me,” she repeated. “Not whatever that was. Unless, of course…you really

haven’t forgiven me…” Her grip tightened on the back of his head.

“I-I have, I just-“Patchwork said before she pulled him forwards until they were nose to nose.

“Then. Kiss. Me,” she ordered, a threat looming in her voice. Patchwork glanced from her piercing eyes to her lips, shivering. Finally, he took the plunge, hesitantly pressing his lips into hers.

Her tongue was immediately in his mouth, using the same sexy and seductive techniques as before…yet they didn’t feel right to him anymore.

To avoid invoking her anger again, he played with her tongue with his own, wrestling with it, resisting the powerful urge to bite down on it. She put her hands around his back, pulling him in deeper. She moaned into his mouth, making him feel a strange mixture of pleasure and disgust; the latter being both directed towards her and towards himself.

Just when Patchwork was about to pull back to breathe, Rarity grabbed the back of his head with both hands and pulled, forcing their faces together. Patchwork's eyes widened as a breath caught in his throat, and be began to choke. Undeterred, Rarity continued to viciously kiss him, either unaware of the situation or simply uncaring. Patchwork put his hands on her shoulders, trying to push Rarity off, but she just threw her arms around his neck and pressed her body roughly to his. Her tongue was still working against his, even as his muffled screams entered her mouth. Just as the edges of his vision began to darken, Rarity pulled away from the kiss.

Patchwork immediately fell forwards, his head landing over her shoulder, and began gasping and coughing profusely. Rarity kept her arms wrapped around him, rubbing his back as he tried to refill his lungs.

“Shhh, shhhh…” Rarity said soothingly as she felt tears wet her shoulder. “It’s okay…it’s okay…”

Eventually, his coughing fit subsided, and he stood there shuddering in Rarity’s arms, pressed against her naked form.

“Now…let’s get those pesky clothes off, and get to bed.” Rarity whispered to him.

“O-Okay,” he choked out, wiping at his eyes. Rarity lightly pushed away from him, back to her side of the bed, and laid down on her side.

“Now…” she said, twirling a lock of her purple hair in her fingers.

“Where were we?”

Chapter 2

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."

Chapter 3

“…Excuse me?”

Rarity’s straight expression changed into one of vague amusement, a small smile curling on her face.

“I believe that you heard me, Mr. Patchwork.”

Patchwork’s anger was sparked by the mocking tone, but dimmed as the blood drying into his hair reminded him of his predicament.

“Why?” he asked curtly.

“I daresay your ears had something to do with it.”

Patchwork just glared at her for several moments, an unamused frown on his face. It was as if he was trying to burn a hole through her pretty little skull with his stare. Rarity eventually returned the frown and looked away from him. Her right hand moved to rub her opposite arm in discomfort.

“Oh, you’re no fun,” she pouted.

“And you’ve just been a ray of sunshine,” Patchwork mumbled before his mind could catch up to his mouth. His eyes widened as he realized what had passed his lips, but he didn’t hasten to apologize. He’d rather just take the punishment and be done with it.

Rarity went deathly still, her back pressed up against his Patchwork’s body, the back of her head resting on his shoulder.

Patchwork waited for something, for her tear the robe hook out of the wall and bash him in the head with it, for her to slam her fist into his jaw, for the sensation of her nails digging into his cuts.

But the pain never came.

Instead, Rarity sat up in his lap and turned around, her knees on either side of Patchwork’s waist, the bathwater shifting as she moved. She began to reach out to him with her right hand, but pulled back as Patchwork instinctively cringed. After a moment of stillness, her hand moved forwards onto his shoulder.

Rarity’s small silky hand rubbed gently across Patchwork’s shoulder before advancing up his neck, and finally up to the back of his head.

Patchwork suppressed a pained grunt as her hand ran over the gash, but nevertheless Rarity noticed his hurt expression. She pulled her hand away quickly, an uncertain look in her eyes.

“…I’m sorry,” she practically whispered, crossing her arms over her breasts, her hands holding her shoulders tightly.

Another uncomfortable silence reigned.

“…Patchwork?” she asked after a while, her brow furrowed in concern. “Did…did you hear what I said?”

“Yes,” Patchwork replied quietly, his eyes cast down and to the side, not daring to meet her gaze. He didn’t want to be anywhere near her, didn’t want to have her bare body pressing against his, and certainly didn’t want to be looking at her.

Rarity uncrossed her arms and hesitantly draped them over Patchwork’s shoulders, gently wrapping her arms around his neck. She felt him shiver in her grasp; despite their intimate contact, she knew that it was not out of arousal.

She sought to fix that.

Leaning forwards, she pressed her lips into his, tasting him. He immediately tried to pull away, but Rarity simply leaned forwards to compensate the distance.

His resistance caused Rarity to falter, but only for a moment. Her tongue jabbed at his lips, silently asking for entrance. Patchwork hesitantly permitted her, and before long her muscle explored him, flicking around the tip of his own. She ran a hand through his hair and another rubbed at his neck, her soft moans of pleasure strikingly audible from the otherwise silence of the bathroom.

Rarity pulled away to breathe, intent on diving back in, but her mind still lingered on one thing.

Patchwork wasn’t kissing her back.

“Patchwork?”

He still wasn’t meeting her eyes. Rarity caressed his cheek with a silken hand, feeling his rough, hardened features.

“Patchwork,” Rarity repeated, tilting Patchwork’s head up. “Kissing is a mutual action, is it not?”

He finally looked up at her demure face, the face that had conveyed so little of its true nature to him. A beautiful face. An untruthful face.

“Given what you did last night…I guess I wouldn’t know,” he replied flatly.

“Oh, you liked it,” Rarity mocked. Patchwork tightened up as anger washed over him, but with a deep breath, he managed to keep his composure.

“My point is that you don’t seem to be in the mood for mutual action right now,” Rarity continued, her hand idly descending: down his face, his neck, his chest…

“But…” Rarity’s hand submerged into the water before lightly palming Patchwork’s half-erect member, causing the man to start in surprise.

“There are things we can do that are not mutual…would you like that?”

She didn’t even bother waiting for an answer. Her hand began to quickly pump up and down his length, water splashing about as her hand took him from base to head. Patchwork let out a shallow breath, looking down before flicking his eyes back up to Rarity’s face.

“R-Rarity, sto-“

He was cut off as Rarity clamped her opposite hand over his mouth. She gave him an odd half-smile as her hand continued its ministrations.

“Patchwork, dear, I’m doing you a favor here…” Rarity said softly. “Now, I’ll admit, I did tease you a bit last night, and it was so inconsiderate of me not to give you any…release. It’s obvious to me that it has made you rather moody today.”

Patchwork suppressed a groan as Rarity quickened her pace. He bucked his hips, but Rarity’s weight kept him pinned. The young woman giggled at his reaction.

“I see you’re enjoying yourself,” Rarity said, amused. “Now, about that lunch: We’ll be picking an outfit out for you at around eleven thirty, and-“

“A-Are we really having this conversation?” Patchwork said, exasperated. “Now?”

Rarity frowned thoughtfully, outwardly oblivious that she was giving Patchwork a hand job under the bath water.

“How do you mean?”

“I-I just-“

Rarity pulled up and twisted her hand around Patchwork’s sensitive tip. Patchwork let out a small gasp as his shoulders arched back.

“What was that, darling?” Rarity asked innocently, returning to her pumping motions. Patchwork shook his head and clenched his hands.

“I…nothing.”

Rarity shrugged, continuing to rub away at Patchwork as if he hadn’t interrupted her at all.

“As I was saying, we’ll need to pick out an outfit for you. Given that dreadfully dusty suit you were wearing yesterday, I’d say you could use some advice on fashion.”

Patchwork barely registered the slight on his fashion sense as a shock of pleasure spiked through his shaft. He’d been worked up since yesterday night, after ‘de-stressing’ Rarity with no reward in return. His balls were tight and full, his cock was swollen to a painful degree, and he needed release, now.

“R-Rarity,” he warned vaguely.

“After that, we have to talk about how we’re going to act towards each other, how you’re going to act to them, what to-“

Rarity was interrupted as Sweetie Belle’s voice suddenly rang out from the other side of the closed bathroom door.

“Rarity?”

Rarity’s face suddenly fell, and she clamped a hand over Patchwork’s mouth. She faced the door and cleared her throat.

“Yes, Sweetie?” Rarity called back, her opposite hand still jerking at Patchwork’s length. Patchwork’s muscles tensed in a desperate attempt to hold himself back, but to no avail. His willpower ran dry, his balls emptying as ropes of cum spurted from his engorged tip, the juices jetting into the bath. Rarity’s expression remained unchanged, her smooth palm wringing out the last of Patchwork’s spunk.

“You’ve been in there for a while…are you okay?” Sweetie asked concernedly.

“I’m just having a nice relaxing bath, darling,” Rarity said. She looked directly at Patchwork, as if daring him to speak up. Sweetie Belle

shrugged and walked down the hallway, oblivious that Rarity was carefully listening to her footsteps as she did so.

After a while, Rarity let out a breath that she didn’t know she was holding, and let her hand drop from Patchwork’s mouth. There was a moment of silence between her and Patchwork, before it was finally broken when Patchwork caught Rarity’s gaze lingering on his softening member, and a smile creeping onto her face.

“…What?” Patchwork finally objected with heavy breath, reaching down and forcing Rarity’s hand off of him. Rarity raised her clean hand to her mouth to muffle a giggle.

“It’s just…that was hardly a challenge,” Rarity said through her amusement. “Either I am far too skillful for my own good, or you are far too inept for yours. I have a sneaking suspicion of the latter.”

Patchwork didn’t deign her jab with a response.

“Oh well, it can’t be helped,” Rarity said haughtily as she stood up and carefully stepped out of the bath. She took a fluffy white towel off of a hook protruding from the bathroom wall and wrapped herself up, finally covering her figure. After a moment of though, she picked another towel off an adjacent hook and held it out towards Patchwork.

“Now get out of there and clean yourself up,” Rarity ordered. “I’m going to put Sweetie to bed, and then I’m coming back to my bedroom. "If you’re not there…well…you’d best be there.”

“You don’t think I’m above sneaking out?” Patchwork asked humorlessly. Rarity smirked and threw the towel to him.

“You’re right,” Rarity conceded mockingly, walking towards the bathroom door as she spoke. “Here I was, thinking you had even a shred of dignity.”

Patchwork sighed to himself and got out of the tub as Rarity exited the bathroom. He dragged the fluffy towel over his body, rubbing it vigorously against his skin. He wasn’t sure if he was trying cleanse himself literally so much as symbolically. Once dry, and clean downstairs, he placed the dececrated towel on the hook on the wall and crossed over to the door. Before he exited, he flashed a fleeting glance to the mirror, and then back again. Stopping in his tracks, he turned around and placed both hands on the counter, studying himself in the mirror.

The recession had not been kind to him. His face had become gaunt and pale from lack of nourishment; he couldn’t recall the last time he had a good meal. He put a hand to his face and scratched at the dark blonde scruff he’d accumulated. His hand glided over the parallel red lines left by Rarity. He felt as if she had marked him, as if she had made him her property.

His opposite hand clenched to the countertop, his knuckles turning white. He took a deep breath through his nose and out his mouth, trying to calm himself down. Eventually his hand unclenched from the countertop, but he couldn’t look in the mirror again.

Patchwork turned to his clothes, which had been haphazardly thrown to the corner of the room. He quickly threw them on, not bothering to tuck in his shirt or button it fully. He gripped the bathroom door handle, held his breath, and opened the door.

Prologue

Patchwork nervously pulled at his tie, contemplating about knocking on the door again. To pass the time, he looked down at the newspaper clenched in his hand. The front page spoke of the even now raising unemployment rates, the decline of the Equestrian economy, and several riots that have occurred all over the country in the past few weeks.

Tirek’s attack didn’t come without long term consequences for the people of Equestria.

Businesses were destroyed, both long standing and budding. As soon as the centaur was back in Tartarus, the Princesses diverted a large amount of governmental income to the repairs of homes and businesses, which, while kind, may have not been the wisest decision.

An unwise decision that caused a pretty devastating recession.

Patchwork didn’t understand any of it, no matter how the press tried to explain it to him through their newspapers. All he knew was that the attack essentially ruined him. His home had been blown to smithereens, his business had been turned into a crater, his chosen bank had been melted into liquid concrete, and, to top it all off, he now had virtually no prospects of getting a job. Meaning no income, no food, no housing, and absolutely nothing to his name.

His business had been a repair shop by the name of Patchworks, a little one man affair ran in Seaddle that he had poured several years of dedicated work into. All of which was now for naught.

He resorted to using his remaining funds, which were rather meager, to travel the country in pursuit of finding work. And wouldn’t you know it, every job offer that he found was either outside of his expertise, or the ones that were within it were undergoing repairs. At the best, he’d hold a job for half a day, get fired for either being inadequate or for somebody else who’d work for less, then go traveling again, his funds steadily running dry.

This time he had been on the outskirts of a small town by the name of Ponyville when he found an issue of The Equestrian Daily floating around on the wind. Always an avid reader of the post, Patchwork picked it up, and was pleasantly surprised that this copy had been printed only a week before. Resisting the urge to read the Business section, he flipped through it until he found the Classified section.

It was all the same hat, pretty much nothing that appealed to a man whose special talent was repairing, but one job offer caught his eye.

HELP WANTED

WANTED HANDYMAN, experience with sewing preferred. 4-5 hours work. Deadline 9/21/1004. Speak to Rarity at Carousel Boutique...

The rest proceeded to tell the location of the Boutique, but never the pay. Coincidentally, the day he read it was on the twentieth, giving him one day to prepare for an interview. He took a carriage to Ponyville, paid for a single night at the cheapest motel in the area, took a shower, and donned his shoddy business attire.

Duly noting the smoking hole of a tree house along the way, Patchwork had walked up to the boutique and knocked seven times.

Knock-knock, knocknocknock, knock-knock.

He raised his fist to knock again when the door was opened by a woman that, to put it lightly, caught him off guard.

He had met many beautiful women in his twenty-odd years of life, but this woman was something else.

She stood a good head under him, forcing him to look down at her. Her hair was immaculately curled, a royal purple in color, and fell to her hips. Her figure was that of a thin hourglass. She was wearing simple semi-formal attire: a white button down tucked into a form hugging black skirt that stopped just above the knee, a tragedy, seeing as it covered her slender thighs and lovely hips. Patchwork couldn’t help but notice her ample breasts, as the top two buttons of her shirt were undone. He forced himself to look her in the face, and wasn’t disappointed by any stretch of the imagination.

Her full red lips, her small adorable nose, her pale skin, and most beautiful of all, her large blue eyes, all came together to form the face of an angel.

She was the closest thing to perfection he’d ever seen.

“Welcome to Carousel Boutique!” she said, oblivious that his attention was entirely focused on something else. “Where every garment is chic, unique, and magnifique.”

Patchwork stared at her blankly, transfixed by her beauty. At the same time, she was taking in his fit body, albeit being a bit more subtle about it.

“...Sir?” she asked, her eyebrows furrowing and her head tilting. “Are you alright?”

Patchwork finally noticed that he was being addressed, and shook his head briefly to clear his thoughts.

“Oh, um, yes, I’m quite alright,” he stated hastily, nervous to be in the woman’s presence. “How are you?” he added as an afterthought.

The woman smiled briefly at his awkward politeness.

“I’m grand, thank you very much for asking,” she said gratefully. “Oh, look at me, forgetting my manners. I’m Rarity, owner of this little shop.” She stuck out a dainty hand.

Patchwork took her hand in his own and shook slightly, reveling in it’s silky soft texture.

“I’m Workpatch,” he said nervously, then shook his head. “Um, I mean, Patchwork. M-My name is Patchwork. Pleased to meet you.” He mentally cursed himself at his ineptitude, and felt heat rise to his cheeks out of embarrassment.

To his relief, Rarity giggled demurely, gently taking her hand back from his.

“The feeling is mutual, Mr. Patchwork,” she said graciously. She shivered slightly as a wind blew into the boutique. “Oh, do come inside, Mr. Patchwork. It’s freezing out there.”

Patchwork smiled and nodded, following her into the boutique.

The room was a large one, containing many racks of clothing, body length mirrors, and mannequins. Dark red curtains separated the main room for what he presumed to be dressing rooms, and several small lilac rugs dotted floor, a smooth floor that had an alternating pattern of lavender and white. Close to the door was a large circular pedestal with three large mirrors suspended around one third of it. Across the room was an elaborate staircase; one that lead upwards to her residence, no doubt.

“Now,” she began, turning around to face him as they reached the center of the room. “How can I help you?”

Patchwork held up the newspaper to her and pointed out the ad.

“I’m here for the job offer,” he explained. Rarity took the paper from his hands and sifted over it. Her eyes eventually lit up in recognition, and she looked up at Patchwork with bright eyes.

“Oh, how lovely!” she exclaimed, taking his hand in hers. “I was beginning to fear that no one would show up. You’re fine with starting right away, correct?”

Patchwork looked at her quizzically, a bit out of sorts from both her holding his hand, and her words.

“B-But what about an interview?” he asked. Rarity rolled her eyes.

“Dear, today’s the deadline on the job offer. You showed up. You have the job. But, if you’re that insistent on and interview…” Rarity poked her tongue out of her mouth thoughtfully and looked around. Her eyes fell on a few stools in the corner of the room, and she let go of Patchwork’s hand to go grab them. Pulling them up to him, she sat down and gestured for him to do the same. He did so hesitantly, not seeing where this was going.

“Now, Mr. Patchwork…” Rarity said with mock seriousness.

“Yes, Ms. Rarity?” Patchwork responded. Rarity clicked her tongue and shook her head.

“Please, call me Rarity,” she requested. “Calling me ‘miss’ makes me feel...old.” She shuddered, as if it was a crime against nature to feel old.

“Only if you just call me Patchwork,” Patchwork said, smiling at her behavior. Rarity smiled in turn.

“Of course. Now, Patchwork, what is your special talent, if you don’t mind me asking.”

“Not at all,” Patchwork began, waving a hand dismissively. “I’m a repairman. Anything that needs fixing, I’m your guy.”

“What about sewing?” Rarity inquired, folding her hands on her lap.

“I’m...not the greatest at making anything with a sewing machine,” Patchwork admitted. “But I’ve used them before for fixing tears in fabric, canvas, drapes, that sort of thing.”

“Mmhm...and what sort of pay would you require for services like this?” Rarity asked.

Patchwork thought to himself for a moment.

“Anything you can spare, really,” he finally said. He wasn’t going to ask for even minimum wage; he didn’t want someone else coming along who would work for less.

“Oh, nonsense,” Rarity dismissed, shaking her head. “How does...twenty bits an hour sound?”

Patchwork’s jaw dropped.

“Tw...Twenty bits an hour?” he asked, his eyes wide. “Nonononono, that’s far too much. I can’t accept that kind of money.”

“You can and you will,” Rarity said with a soft smile. “Don’t worry your pretty head about it, darling. Generosity is my middle name.”

“B-But I-” Patchwork began to protest, but Rarity cut him off.

“Moving on, where is your residence?” Rarity asked, completely ignoring his attempt at lowering his pay.

“...I rented a motel for today,” Patchwork said, not meeting her eyes. “I can’t afford permanent housing in this town.”

“You won’t have to,” Rarity said. “You can stay here.”

“What?” Patchwork asked, not believing his ears. Rarity laughed at his disbelief and got up from her stool, crossing the distance between her and Patchwork.

“So, to summarize: your job is to handle all repairs for damaged garments that get sent in. I will then pay you twenty bits per hour of your service, and you may stay here, if you wish.”

“How-”

“There’s a guest bedroom upstairs. You’re free to stay as long as you’re my employee.”

Patchwork stared at her, not believing his luck, nor her capacity for generosity.

“So...I’m hired?” he finally said. Rarity laughed and held out a hand. He took it in his own and let her pull him to his feet.

“Naturally,” Rarity said. “Now, I’ve got a pile of dresses over there in the corner that need repairing, but before that, would you mind picking up that fabric for me?”

She pointed to a small roll of yellow silk lying on the floor a few feet from them. Patchwork happily complied to her request, walking to the roll and bending over to pick it up. Turning around, he noticed that Rarity’s body was tilted to the side, and that her eyes were cast down. Her pale cheeks slowly grew pink.

“Uh, Rarity?” Patchwork asked. Rarity glanced up at his face and shook her head, then straightened up.

“Mmm...Yes, thank you Patchwork.” She took the roll from his hand and walked to the staircase, swaying her hips as she did so. “Now, come along, and bring the dresses. I’ll show you where you’ll be working.”

Patchwork raised an eyebrow, confused at her odd behavior, but it was pushed down by happiness. Nothing could crush his high.

The rest of midday passed without incident. Rarity showed him the sewing machine, how it operated, and let him work. But Patchwork noticed that she was acting a bit...flirtatious. He would always catch her looking at him, she would constantly bend down to pick things up that she dropped ‘on accident’, and she would always make her movements alluring.

All in all, Patchwork didn’t know how to feel, so he decided to focus on earning those bits she promised.

After a few hours, Rarity yawned adorably and stood from her desk, on which she had been sketching a new dress.

“I think it’s time to retire, Patchwork,” she said, walking out of the room. “Oh, the guest room hasn’t been prepared yet. Do you mind using the couch, just for tonight?”

Patchwork smiled at her and nodded. He had no doubts that the couch would be preferable to the motel's raggedy bed.

“Goodnight, Rarity,” he said. Rarity smiled and exited, retiring to her room.