The failing light of the evening cast golden highlights over the ornate edges of Ponyville's famous boutique. Through the windows a few prime outfits could be glimpsed; skillful, creative, full of color. The sign on the door announced the business closed for the day, a full two hours ago.

But from the back room of the shop a mad frenzy of sound was still flowing; the snipping of scissors, the drawing of fabric against fabric, rulers coming and going, pencils scribbling. The boutique's owner was almost a blur, purple mane twisting back and forth as she zipped back and forth between the islands of creation scattered across the floor; a sewing machine surrounded in fabric here, a pattern-covered table there, half a dozen manikins with sections of fabric pinned here and there. And in the center, hung on the main figure, a masterpiece was taking shape.

Deep black fabric the color of night curved and twisted over the frame, each cut and seam masterful and exact. The form resembled an evening gown, but its simple shape was punctuated here and there with intricate details; little folds, subtle hems, a hundred small additions that blended in from a distance and slowly revealed themselves on closer inspection.

A few more snips, a few more frantic flashes of the needle, and the unicorn collapsed in front of her creation, exhausted, but proud. It was finally finished. A full month of research, planning, throwing patterns out and starting over, and so many, many hours in this room, sewing and cutting and testing and now it was ready. It was no trivial thing to make a formal gown fitting for the princess, but she had done it, at last. And now, at last, she could rest.

A knock came at the door.

The unicorn groaned, not moving. "WE'RE CLOSED!" She yelled in an uncharacteristically brutish tone from her comfortable place on the floor. "COME BACK TOMORROW!" Tomorrow was a holiday, she remembered, but the unicorn was too tired to correct herself.

The knocking continued.

Groaning again, the unicorn pulled herself to her feet, promising her body it would only be for a few minutes, and headed for the door. She would just have to tell this ruffian to leave face to face. Who did he think he was, knocking at this hour? What rational pony would expect a clothing shop to be open hours after the sun had set? And after all she could understand not being able to wait to browse clothing so skillfully crafted and so stylish, but really. Ponyville was a friendly enough place, but sometimes it...it...
She blinked. Her train of thought had gone missing. Well, small wonder considering the hour. No civilized pony should even be awake right now, let alone expected to have coherent thoughts or answer doors or...

What had she been thinking again? The unicorn gave a grunt of frustration as the knocking continued and kept heading for the door. She was getting rid of this pony and then heading straight for bed. She clearly needed sleep. To recharge and relax and slip away...

She hadn't noticed before, but the knocking had a kind of rhythm to it. Hard to pin down, but definitely there. Steady and strangely attractive, relaxing, like everything could just go limp...

and smooth...

and muffled...

and blank...

She opened the door. A dusty brown unicorn smiled back at her.

"We're closed." The purple-haired unicorn mouthed robotically, not really remembering why she was saying the words anymore.

"No you're not." The brown unicorn said gently. "You were just about to open, just for me. Remember Rarity?"

"I was just about to open. Yes..." Rarity said blankly, eyes unfocused. Everything was vague, hazy. She couldn't really see anything besides the brown unicorn in front of her. He took out a book, opened it, held it up to her. Pointed to the page.

"Look here."

She looked. Lines swirled and turned, a maze of paths every-twisting to the center, always to the center but never quite reaching it. Something deep in her mind objected, but it was swept away in the gentle, limp calm, nothing to hold on to, no way to resist. For just an instant she felt something reaching out from the book, reaching into her mind. And then black.

Rarity paced nervously in the front of her boutique. Why wasn't the client here already? Why did he have to schedule such a late appointment? Not that she was complaining, it was an honor to have someone so high-profile and someone with such deep pockets, and someone who could actually appreciate the depth of fashion on display, but still-

A knock came on the door.

She was a blur of white, vanishing and reappearing at the door, hurling it open with quite unladylike force. A brown unicorn in an expensive suit smiled back at her. He was here!

"O-oh hello sir, I'm so glad you could finally make it to carousel boutique. Please come in!"

He stepped inside, Rarity quickly closing the door behind him. "It's a pleasure to be here. I've heard so much about your work-" He stepped past a few of the outfits at the front of the store, looking them over. "And I've wanted to take a closer look for so long."
Rarity suppressed a burst of excitement at the compliment, trying her best to remain professional. "Oh I assure you, it's a pleasure to offer my services to such a cultured pony."

"I hope the late appointment wasn't too much trouble, it's hard for me to get away sometimes-" He turned over the collar on one of the suits, inspecting it.

"Oh not at all, I completely understand. Was there anything in particular you were..."

The brown unicorn had stopped in front of the black evening gown, beautifully on display in its own alcove. "My, this is a lovely piece." He ran a hoof down the back, tracing the seam.

Rarity felt a twinge of nervousness at anyone touching something that had taken so long to make, but she pushed it back. "Y-yeees, that's a little something the princess had commissioned. It's not for sale of course, but if you like it I'd be glad to make something similar-"

The brown unicorn's hoof traced the collar of the gown. "It looks very well-made. But I wonder-"

Rarity's nervousness suddenly swelled. "W-what are you-"

And then a nightmarish sound split the air. The sound of ripping fabric.

There was a tear on the gown now, from the collar several inches down into the fabric. The seamstress’s eyes went wide as dinner plates. "W-wha, wha, what did you..."

"Not very sturdy though. I'm disappointed Rarity."

The shock and horror was starting to mix with anger. "H-how could you...w-what do you think you're-"

Another ripping sound. Another tear from the collar, deeper this time.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" The white unicorn’s eyes were blazing now. The brown unicorn seemed unconcerned. "Showing you what shoddy work you're doing. You think this is worthy of a princess? I'm barely touching it and it's coming apart in my hooves. Look at this." Another tear.

"STOP THAT! STOP!" The shock was wearing off a little and Rarity was closing the distance between them, determined to stop this mad pony.

"Why should I?" Another tear. "STOP! STop or..." The white unicorn blinked. She had felt something else on that last tearing noise, something that wasn't shock or rage. Something that was warm and heavy.

The brown unicorn ignored her. "This is obviously poor work Rarity. And poor work should be destroyed. Don't you agree?" Another tear.

"No, why are you...why..." There it was again, hotter, heavier. She wanted to kick this ruffian's teeth in for vandalizing her work, smash his head into the wall, throw him out into the street face-first. But every time he tore into the dress it was hard to concentrate. Every time it was painful, agonizing to watch something she had spent so much time and effort on be so casually destroyed. But that agony felt...good somehow. REALLY good.

She tried to close the last few feet between them, but he tore into the dress again, and the heat hit her like a wave this time, stronger, harder, overwhelming. She groaned as she felt her body tremble, heat pulse between her legs. Her knees gave out, collapsing the unicorn into a sitting pose she struggled uselessly to rise from.

"Please, stop..." Her voice was getting rough now, panting. The brown unicorn ignored her, picking at the gown here and there as he continued his vandalism.

"This is the way things are Rarity. Failures must be destroyed." A tear along the hem. "The weak must be destroyed." A tear up the sleeve. "To make way for the strong. Don't you agree?"

"Y-you're insane-" The words were gasped through forced pleasure, hard to speak.

The white unicorn could feel her arousal slick between her legs, could feel a burning blush growing on her cheeks. Her whole body was trembling slightly now as she struggled to hold back the waves of heat that washed over her at every new act of destruction, but she could feel it was a losing battle. And it wasn't just the heat now. His words, his violence, the destruction was pulling her in, pressing her down. A part of her mind was screaming, moaning now that it wanted to be that dress, it wanted to be vandalized, it wanted to be destroyed. It would feel so good. It would feel so good! She was trying to hold it down, but it moaned harder with each tear, each tug at the dress.

"Don't you agree?"

"No!" Tears were starting to well in her eyes from the emotional tug of war.

"Don't you agree?" He pulled out a box cutter, drew out the blade, held it to the dress. The white unicorn's eyes went wider than dinner plates.

"ohcelestiano-"

One quick pulling swipe, right along the side of the gown. The quiet sound of cut fabric. An instant later the bottom of the gown sagged, cut loose from its top half, horrible, irreparably disfigured.

The white unicorn twitched, gave a quick, choked gasp, and then came, howling, a very uncivilized, animalistic squeal pouring from her as the hardest orgasm she had ever experienced tore through her helpless body. In one instant all resistance, all reservation, everything remotely lady-like or civilized was burned away to cinders by white-hot pleasure.

When the climax finally ended the white unicorn sat limp for a moment, shivering, eyes blank and unfocused, mouth hung open in a shameless expression of bestial lust. And then with an exhausted groan she collapsed, sprawling forward onto the floor.
The brown unicorn pressed a hoof against her head, voice much less cultured now. "Failures must be destroyed. Don't you agree cunt?"

"Yeessss..." The white unicorn happily slurred beneath him.

"And what is a pony that makes worthless, pathetic 'clothing' like this?"

"A fah..failure..."

"So what should I do with you?"

The fallen unicorn's face twisted into an obscene, blissful grin. "Dehs..Destroyeee mee..."

"Would you like that?"

"Yeesh..."

He ground the hoof into her head. "Beg for it."

"Phluease destroy mheee..."

"Louder."

"Please destroy me!"

"LOUDER"

"PLEASE DESTROY ME UNTIL THERE'S NOTHING LEFT!"

The brown unicorn laughed. "Good." Rarity coughed painfully as a kick found her stomach. "Get up."
As the white unicorn struggled to her feet, her tormentor roughly pulled the tattered remains of the gown from the dummy and slowly dressed her in it. When it was finally in place, he gave another laugh. “Worthless garbage wearing worthless garbage. A perfect match.” She gave a dumb, exhausted smile. He was right. She was getting turned on again just feeling the ravaged fabric against her skin. A perfect match.

He reached out with his magic, grabbing her hair and tugging toward the now-bare display dummy. “Over here…” With a tug he tossed her over the back of the dummy, her bare slick sex now helplessly on display between her dangling legs. His magic reached out again, pulling one of the seamstress’s stools over to the dummy. Stepping on to it brought him to just the right height.
Rarity gasped as she felt the length of his cock press against her sex, thick and eager. He grasped her hair again, pulling her head up and holding the box cutter in front of her face. She watched wide-eyed as it opened and the blade lowered, until it rested on the fabric of the gown’s collar. He pressed against her ear, whispering. “Ready to get what you deserve you worthless cunt? “ The words ran through her like the hit of a drug. So very, very good. She trembled in anticipation beneath him, and in the end the white unicorn could only manage a guttural, needy groan.

With a quiet laugh he drew back his hips, positioning. There was a quick, deft movement and the dangerously sharp blade cut into the collar of the gown, carefully avoiding the white neck beneath. And as the newly masochist unicorn began to reel, her new master took her, deep and hard.

It was almost dawn. The first rays of the sun traced over a chaotic mess inside the show room of the carousel boutique. Usually the height of order, it was now a disaster. Reams of fabric were pulled from their shelves, scattered across the floor amongst scissors, thread and bits of patterns. Dummies were knocked over here and there and dresses and suits, torn and disfigured, were pinned across the walls like vandalized ornaments.

In the alcove where the princesses’ gown had been, the shop’s proprietor lay, propped against the wall. She was bare of any clothing; all that remained of the gown were shredded scraps sprinkled over her and the surrounding floor and a hoofful that had been forced into her mouth. Her head lolled to one side, expression blank, eyes clouded over, mouth hanging limp. Only the very slight movement of her chest gave any indication that she was still alive. Semen was scattered across her chest, ran from her mouth, pooled between her legs. Her ass was a bright red, the shape of a yard stick end still visible in the bruises.

Her tormentor had conditioned her carefully before he left. Today was a holiday, the boutique was closed. No one would find her. She would wake, she would clean up, and she would “forget” all of this had happened and go on as normal. The bruises were an unfortunate fashion accident that was better not asked about, she had fallen asleep before she could start on the gown but it could still be finished in time if she hurried.

But underneath that layer of varnish, she would always remember what she had learned, she would always be ready to remember it when asked. She would never forget exactly what she was, and what she was good for. And she would never forget how much she enjoyed being reminded, over and over again.