The Manor in the Woods

“Hnnnn! Plf!” The mare pleaded through the muzzle as she fell from her captor's arms to land splayed out on the luxuriant bedsheets. He drew up to her and, with terrifying tenderness, stroked the underside of her jaw, down her neck, and across her upturned belly. No sooner had he withdrawn his paw than she began to whip her head from side to side, desperate to dislodge the padded silk blindfold that trapped her in suffocating darkness. A feeble kick of her forelegs grazed past the grizzled fur of his sides, eliciting an amused chuckle.

She loosed another desperate cry and struck again, aiming now for the source of the voice. This time her efforts were rewarded with a jarring impact and a grunt of pain as her hoof connected with enameled bone. He spat, and she felt a light spatter fall across her body. All was silent, save for the swish of his great padded paw as he wiped the blood from his beak. She drew her leg back to unleash another blow when with great swiftness her captor leapt forward, the bed shaking as his padded paws landed at either side of her head, tremors accompanied by the unmistakeable sound of ripping fabric. His claws were out.

He lowered his body over hers until she could feel the tips of his front feathers swish softly against her chest as it rose and fell rapidly in time with her shallow, frightened breaths. Her next kick slid past his side and the Griffon's voice rumbled quietly in the darkness.

“Stop.”

Another spasm of motion rocked the bed as she thrashed her head about, screaming. “Hlfp!” Smmphmny Hlf mmh! Plf!” Her cries fell to sobs as she felt the bed shift again slightly as he adjusted his position, looming over her splayed form. There was a moment of calm, the only sound in the room her quiet crying and the mechanical tocking of the ornate grandfather clock adorning the far side of the  room. He inhaled sharply, teasing forth another muffled sob from his prey as he lowered his head toward hers. The white mare could feel his breath washing across first her mane, then her face, and finally her neck as he quietly turned his head and laid an ear to her throat.

The unicorn's heart thudded in her chest, and each breath was shallow, quick, and labored. She swallowed, but the suffocating tightness in her throat refused to dissipate- it was as though her own fear were trying to strangle her. Cowed by the griffon's show of force she lay, blind and belly-up, as helpless as a tortoise. Apparently satisfied, her abductor rubbed his head softly across her dangerously exposed throat before lifting away and out of her limited perception.

“I'm not going to hurt you. Do you understand?”

Tears were trickling down the side of Rarity's face in thin rivulets now, and at the sound of his voice she began another series of choking sobs. Her limbs felt like lead, and she dared not move. There was another brief pause, and then a soft swish of hair as his paw came down gingerly upon her, slowly running its digits through her amaranthine mane. He slid his padded palm across the side of her head, stopping at her ear to rub it softly between his thumb and forefinger before proceeding to trace gently across her cheek with a single finger. He cupped her jaw in his paw. “It doesn't have to be bad for you,” he offered.

She tugged away from him, and his grip grew firm.

Rarity hummed a pleasant tune to herself as she trotted happily through the streets of  Ponyville in her soft-brim cotton sun hat. A bit folksy, perhaps, but topped with a few orange and purple lilies from the flower shop across the street it made for an acceptable ensemble. In her saddlebag were a few the fruits of her shopping spree- a few reams of woven silk of the highest quality, a smattering of cut gemstones for one of her flashier projects, and a new box of needles for her sewing machine. A shame to be slaving away indoors on such a fine day, but she had a duty to perform! After all, she was the finest, and, if she might be so bold (which she was), most sought-after dressmaker in all of Equestria, with orders coming in from as far away as Canterlot, Baltimare, and Manehattan! She deftly sauntered past the carriage parked in front of her boutique, giving the two ponies standing idly in their harnesses a polite smile as she put her hoof to the door.

The door of her boutique chimed her arrival as she gently pushed it open and trotted inside, letting the soft blue glow of her horn lift the saddlebag from her side and deposit it atop the counter.  To think how her business had grown over the past several years! It was truly marvelous. So marvelous, in fact, that caught as she was in her thoughts, she failed to notice the earth pony waiting patiently in the lobby behind her until his abrupt cough sent her airborne with a rattled yelp.

“My apologies,” he murmured, stepping forward and tipping his head respectfully. He was a sizable stallion, draped in a cobalt coat and matching, but slightly darker mane, worn with a close cut. He stood with his hooves spaced at exactly shoulder length, back perfectly horizontal; the regimented posture of a guard, or an athlete. From his side hung a small, rough saddlebag. “I'm here about a work order.”

“Oh!” She brightened up immediately, eyes twinkling like sapphires, quickly quashing her immediate surprise behind the veneer of a salespony. “Which one? The Hoofington dress is almost ready, as is the one for the pageant in Baltima-” “I'm sorry," he shook his head. “Not an existing order. A new one.”

“Oh?” She cocked her head, intrigued. “What sort of order? A dress, I'm assuming? Something for the esteemed misses- oh, pardon, I didn't catch your name..?

“Not exactly,” he answered, deflecting further questions with an apologetic shake of his head that seemed to say this is strictly for business.

“Well, then, I can't help you!” Rarity, rebuffed, raised her nose with slight indignation. “As you can see, sir, this is a dressmaker's boutique! There are other tailors in town, perhaps they will be of use?”

“None as skilled as you, and certainly not as professional, something that this project will require in equal amounts.” He turned his head and unlatched the saddlebag as Rarity looked on, flummoxed.

“Well, I can't see myself helping you anyway, I'm absolutely swamped as it is-"

“Those can wait," he mumbled through a mouthful of paper, which he held forward and deposited on the counter next to Rarity. “What do you mean 'wait'? Do you even know the sort of ponies I work for these days? Models, Aristocrats-” The stallion deposited the sheets of butcher paper upon the counter. “They can wait because we're willing to let you name your price.”

This gave Rarity pause. She trotted to the counter- the stallion stepped back politely- and hmmed as the pages were swiftly borne aloft in a pleasant blue glow of unicorn magic. Her eyes ran down the front of the first page, flipped to the next, blushed, and stopped. “Is something the matter?” Inquired the earth pony cautiously.

“What? No, no, not at all,Rarity raised a foreleg, smiling embarrassedly. “I just, I didn't know that I'd be working on-”

“My employer has exotic tastes,” the stallion stated plainly, as though rote. “You are the only pony we could find with the expertise to meet the standards of comfort needed while still being … functional. Additionally, it is hoped that your professional courtesy will allow you to be, ahem, discreet.”

“I'll say,” Rarity continued to flip through the pages, blinking her eyes dumbfoundedly at one design after the other. “Somepony put a lot of effort into these. Is that-”

“Suede cuffs, yes. Much of the others are silk. A few require more exotic materials.”

“Such as?” She glanced over to the earth pony, interest piqued. “Leather, snakeskin for a few,” came his casual reply.

“Wait, actual-” he nodded. “Is that even lega-” he raised a foreleg, waddled his hoof from side to side with a slight shrug. “If you're worried we hunt down steers and take their skin, don't. Because we don't.”

She pursed her lips and gazed back at the hovering designs, brow furrowed. “Your employer would have to pay me a great deal for me to consider-”

There came a loud jingle behind her as the stallion extracted a loaded sack from his saddlebag and placed it gently on the coffee table in the  boutique's lobby. He nudged the burlap with his front hoof, tilting it over. Out spilled a veritable wave of coins, cascading over the mare's magazines and fashion catalogs. Rarity's jaw went slack. The stallion spoke.  “Ten thousand bits up front for you to visit my employer and consider his offer.”

“Visit?” Rarity backed up, raised her nose, and with an indignant hmph! went to gather some things. “How far- where is this employer of yours?”

The stallion smiled cordially. “He has a manor in the Everfree Forest.” Rarity's eyes scanned the pony's face for signs of humor. “Really.” She glanced out the window at the carriage, its attendant ponies standing idle in the street. She bit her lip, and glanced toward the sack of bits.