"Piece by piece, snip by snip. Croup, dock, haunch, shoulders, hip. Thread by thread, primed and pressed. Yard by yard, never stressed. And that's the art of the d—OH GODDAMMIT TO SWEET CELESTIA'S FAT ROYAL FLANK!"

Within seconds, Spike barreled through the doors of my work room, sweating like a coarse pig. He looked absolutely concerned, and it calmed me down a bit. A gentle smile appeared on my face.

"I'm sorry, Rarity! I should have told you, but I never thought you'd find out I broke your good tea kettle! Please forgive me!" Spike cried out, falling to his knees and clasping his hands together in a begging motion.

My loving content with little Spikey-wikey vanished for second as I looked at him with confusion. His eye twitched and he stood up, shaking himself off and cleared his throat.

"What?"

"So what was that about the Royal Flank, dear?" Spike asked, grinning sheepishly.

Ignoring the tidbit regarding my lovely, antique olden Equestria tea kettle, I took a sharp breath and exhaled heavily. No words came to mind, so I stepped to the side and slapped the dressform I was working on.

"There's nothing on the dress form, Rarity. It's all on the floor," he said, scratching his head.

Groaning, I slapped my face and he took a defensive step back.

"That's because the... the, the black... that stupid fucking material fell off! My stitching didn't hold the blasted fabric together, and it's done this all day! I resew it, use different thread, use different stitching patterns, but it absolutely refuses to piece together like a ungrateful stagnant quim!" I shrieked, stomping my hooves in a hissy fit.

Spike picked up the material and examined it for a few seconds before sighing. He set the material on my table and quickly placed his claws on my shoulders. He escorted me out of my work room, regardless of my snarling and resistance. He forced me onto my lounge chair and I laid back, crossing my forelegs in a huff.

"Joints are aching, hooves are sore, I'm running out of time on this project and these mishaps aren't helping, and neither are you right now, Spike! If you really wanted to help me, you'd shut up, pick up a needle and thread and sew some goddamn dresses for me!" I shouted, pounding my hooves against the lounge chair's back.

Instead of responding, Spike's claws wrapped around my left hindhoof and his thumbs pressed into my skin, no claws, and he pushed upward. The sensation I felt was so sweet and glorious that I instantly let out a euphoric moan as my body arched from the loveable sensation. Without stopping, his thumbs moved back to the bottom of my hoof and pushed against the base, sliding in circular motions. I contorted my body in all manners of ways as I attempted to stop the screams of pleasure escape my mouth. The pressure was such an incredible feeling and was a complete change from my normal self.

Then his hands moved to the other hoof, and proceeded to work on that one. Once more, I began to wiggle under his grasp and I even had to bite a hoof to prevent any shouts of joy. Instead, I clenched my eyes shut, let out a few stiffled moans and allowed Spike to work.

He paused. "Don't tense up, Rarity, I need you to be loose and lanky for this to work," Spike said calmly.

I whimpered before obliging, allowing my body to lose the tension and he began to press into my hoof. I no longer bit my hoof or wiggled, but instead felt all words escape my mouth. The pressure in my hindhooves melted away with each, sensual pressing and by Luna's Royal Flank, I wish I had Spike years ago.

Then his claws moved and I let out a faux cry of disapproval before stopping as his hands wrapped around both of my hindlegs. His long fingers easily wrapped around my limbs and the pressure he applied at the base was . . . orgasmic, but that wasn't it. In one slow motion, he slid his hands up my hindlegs with gentle pressure in his grip, and I shrieked like a young filly recieving candy. My whole body shivered with unbound pleasure, my cries of joy matching my internal delight as he stroked my legs with specific motions: his thumbs would push into my muscles; his trigger fingers would rub the area from my ankles up to my stifle; and his grip . . . sweet Celestia, his grip was incredible. The pressure he applied to my sore hindlegs have surely made it impossible for me to walk after. My legs feel like limp, broken noodles right now.

He released my hindlegs, much to my disappointment, and I glanced down at him. He kissed my tummy before blowing a raspberry, making me giggle uncontrollably. Quickly and gently, he leaned back and lifted me off the lounge chair, rolled me onto my front, and gently pressed me into the soft cushions. I was right—my hind legs were mush.

Without leaving me much time to contemplate his goal, his hands settled on my Cutie Marks. He quickly pressed into my thighs and pressed all the way to my haunches. I let out a stuttered moan of affection, wiggling my forehooves helplessly as I resisted the urge to tense up. He continued stroking my Cutie Marks, twisting his hands and pressing his fingers into my tense flesh, loosening it like a bread maker kneads dough . . . and that's all I was at the time. Dough, and Spike was the one kneading me into the shape. The tension in my joints were melting away like a triple-decker chocolate peanut butter fudge cake. Mmm, I could go for that right nowIE!

Spike's loving hands made their way to my back, and just a little pressure near my spine would have sent me straight into PMS'ing, but Spike was no amateur. His fingers pressed in, and reduced my thoughts to nothing but melted fudge. I couldn't even mumble with unintelligible sentences. His fingers pressed into my back, sending me into glistening pleasure. Running them along my spine as well as slight pressure, I could hear and feel my bones cracking blissfully under his loving touch. I made goo-goo sounds like a foal as all feeling in my body was blissfully taken from me.

Using the heel of his hand, he pressed forcefully but carefully into my back after going back to my croup. His heel pressed all the way from my rump up to my neck, cracking my bones even further as he reset my spine. Leave it up to Spike to learn chiropracty.

He continued going over my back, exploring my sides as well as he went over my body like an artist toying with a model. This was ungodly, beautifully incredible and I felt no further malice towards my earlier mishaps. And when I thought it couldn't get any better, his hands traveled further back before resting on my dock. He ran his strong, muscular claws down my legs, spreading my backside not with the intention to pleasure, but to add to the thoroughness of his masseur job.

My hindquarters were spared no softness as he ran over the tense muscles with crisp and skilled movements, making me wish that this was a more intimate massage. Instead, as if he read my mind again, he knew when I was fully satisfied and he moved his hands once more. This time, he grabbed my front shoulders and gently tugged me up so I leaned against his body in a sit. His hands ran down my forelegs before grabbing my hooves and repeating the procedure made onto my hind legs.

I moaned once more as he tended to my most sore, tender area. All those months of work and sleepless nights were being washed away in mere seconds. Gently, he scratched at my forelegs, tickling me and making me giggle against my wishes. But, unfortunately, all good things come to an end.

Spike finished his run up of my forelegs and grabbed my hooves, gently crossing them in an embrace and we leaned onto our sides atop the lounge chair. It was only then I realized what had occurred previously.

"Spike, I am so sorry for those nasty things I said. They were rude and hurtful. I treated you like a miserable slave, no better than those days where I repeatedly took from you," I whispered, feeling gentle tears pricking my eyes.

"Shh, don't say anything. You're fine now, and that's all that counts," he responded, caressing my chest.

He kissed my cheek before moving his head down, biting my neck gently in numerous areas as well as sucking on spots. Little wet spots patterned my neck as well as rustled fur from his teeth. Gentle moans escaped my mouth and I closed my eyes to enjoy the sensation. Before long, he moved his head and planted his draconic lips on my own.

He suckled on mine as I fought to do the same to his, to no avail. I wonder if he has the snap of a crocodile . . . but let's not dwell on that. Instead, I pushed my tongue through my lips and into his mouth, meeting his tongue. I lapped at his forked muscle and he didn't try to fight me as I did him. He just allowed me to dominate his mouth, savouring his sweet, mineral taste. If there was ever a thing to look forward to, it was this . . . or perhaps something else.

The massage never stopped at muscle relaxation. I grew excited down below, and wanted relief. Just as I was about to ask Spike to take me, he released me from the embrace, slid off the lounge chair, stood up and stretched. He turned to me just as I pouted, blowing up my cheeks at him as I blew a raspberry at him.

"Hmph! You got me all excited and then left me?" I complained with faux annoyance.

He chuckled, cracking his knuckles. "I'll help you finish your dress. I leave for the library at 9:30 tonight, but if you finish your work orders before then, I'll stay behind and we can take are of that excitement," he said with a smirk.

I licked my lips, flicking my hoof at him.

"Pah! You make it hard for me to be angry at you, but you're tempting fate, dear Spike," I responded, rolling off the lounge chair. I stood up and stretched, cracking my bones, even further adding to my euphora before turning to Spike and winking at him. "So let's hurry up so you can remind me why I shouldn't be angry."