Rarity's Unlikely Affinity

>Another day, another crazy bitch binding you to a chair to do weird shit to you
>You wish you could say you're used to things like this, but it's always something just fresh enough to keep it traumatic
>Rarity squeaks slightly

>THE PAST
>Oh it was a day like any other, you wanted to run some errands, and decided to commission some new shoes from the local clothes horse
>She complied, saying "it would be an adequate challenge to an artist such as mysel--"
>She woulda finished that thought had she not gotten a glimpse of your bare tootsies for the first time right then and there
>You took a seat nearby as not to stand barefoot on the floor and Rarity immediately swooped in on your feet like a vulture on a fresh corpse
>She got her face uncomfortably close to them, and simply glared
>You could feel her uneven breaths upon them
Aren't you gonna take a look at my shoes to get a good grasp on how they work?
>She mumbles under her breath, as if that was an actual response
Rarity?
>"Hah? Oh, sure, yes, as soon as I examine these... interesting.. specimens.
>She's moved onto smelling them
>"Anonymous, dearie, what did you say these hoof things of yours were called?"
..Feet..
>"Mm, yes... feet.."
>She lifts up your legs, presses her face up against your sole, and begins to lightly prod it with her tongue
>Alright, that's far enough
>You fell for this shit with that weird fuck with the van back in '96, but not this time. You're getting out of here.
Alright!
>You start to stand up to make your leave
You have my shoes, if you need any more information, admit yourself to your local psyche ward.
>"Ah, ah ah! W-wait, dearie, I still need to take your measurements!"
>She whips a length of measuring tape over with magic and squeezes it around your upper body, and then secures you back down to the chair you were sitting in
Dammit, let me go! You already have my measurements!
>"Hush, Anonymous. Taste testing is an important part of any fashionable seamstress' job."
That's what that weird dude who told me he was with Trojan Condoms said! Let me out of here!
>It's too late, she's already slobbering all over your lower extremities
>You'd kick her right in her snout, but she's bound your legs with magic.
>She works her mouth over the bottoms and sides of your feet, occasionally stopping to focus on a single spot
>You're struggling like a wild animal in your bindings, but to no success
>This measuring tape is solid plastic, there's no breaking it
>Rarity is making creepy moaning noises and puffing out big, quick breaths from her mouth to make room to whiff with her nose
>You try to lie back and think of England
>This backfires and fills your mind with thoughts of the queen in Rarity's position
>You snap back into reality at the distinct sound of dripping to see Rarity fondling herself as her own mare secretions pour onto the floor while sucking and licking between your toes
>Thank God, you thought the roof might have been leaking
>You'd NEVER set foot into a boutique with such shoddy workmanship AND who's owner sexually assaulted you
>Rarity decides to move onto rubbing her genitals over your feet
>She's pretty much orgasmically screaming at this point, getting squash soup all over your dogs
>You take another attempt at thinking of a foreign country with Antarctica, but that only earns you a vision of a penguin in Rarity's shoes this time
>Fortunately for you, by the time you return to reality again, Rarity was just finishing up
>And God damn she made a show of it
>Twisting and contorting, spewing a variety of odorous fluids about
>Loud, guttural noises a horse has no business creating erupted from her
>And after everything she takes the extra opportunity to cuddle with your feet

>after an hour of cuddling, Rarity undoes the tape around you and composes herself, as if she didn't just degrade you both, and daintily heads in back for about thirty seconds, and comes back out with a new pair of kicks
>It literally took her zero effort
>"Put them on."
Can I was my feet first?
>"No."
>You have no choice, as she's not giving them up unless you comply
>She doesn't ask for any payment for them, which makes you feel like a common whore
>You make your exit accompanied by the squishy noises of the fetid liquids sloshing around inside your new shoes, which are surpisingly comfortable
>Rarity whips your ass with the measuring tape on your way out
>This is the fifth worst day of your life
>But it's about to get better!
>You arrive at the newly opened "Lyra's Glove Fitters" conveniently and recently built about 20 feet away from your house
>It looks like a real slap-dash job in terms of carpentry, plus the sign looks like a plank of scrap particle board with a single coat of paint by someone who has no idea how to paint anything
>But that's okay, so long as you're not sexually assaulted by the owner
>and what are the odds of that?