Oxen

by SirJeff

- the inspiring illustration by ypvs, with permission.
- do not use without the author's permission.


As usual, Bonnie Rouge was in a hurry. She was late and speeding down a rural Pennsylvania road, hair waving in the breeze. One well manicured, red-nailed hand on a cell phone, the other paging through her electronic rolodex, she was trying to reach her client and delay their appointment. She barely looked at the road and missed seeing the farmer with the oxen slowly pulling the haycart around the curve.

Almost too late, she turned the wheel left, then right, and managed to avoid hitting the cart. But not the leftmost ox, whom she rammed just behind its front legs.

She groaned in annoyance at yet another delay, stopped the ruby red mustang convertible, planning to pay the farmer some cash compensation.

The farmer was also really annoyed. He glanced at his dead ox, Blue, then looked at her red car, her red lips and her red nails, seeing more red. City folks!

Bonnie walked with that studied sexy bounce of hers to the farmer. All the while she flashed her best smile and showed him much shapely leg beneath her form-fitting red Givenchy dress. She pulled seven one hundred dollar bills from her red Gucci purse.

Farmer Amos echoed her smile, but shook his head. "We need to go to Judge Jeremiah, and he will determine what needs be done to replace my ox."

Bonnie stomped her red high-heeled Gucci pump impatiently, as she grumbled, "Fine, but I demand that we do so immediately."



So it came to pass that Bonnie and farmer Amos stood before Judge Jeremiah and, under oath, each explained what had happened. The Judge ruled that according to Hershey County law, Bonnie must replace the lost ox of the farmer, and that as punitive damages for her reckless driving she must also forfeit her car and any possessions that she carried with her to the farmer. The Judge asked if Bonnie if she fully and unconditionally agreed to do so.

Bonnie, ever impatient, said "Whatever, Judge. Let me replace the ox and forfeit my possessions. Anything, just so I can get going and do what I need to do."

Farmer Amos smiled knowingly, and also agreed. Judge Jeremiah banged his gavel and said "Then let it be so. Bailiff, see to her."

Bonnie was relieved and anxious to get on her way, but the bailiff handcuffed her wrists behind her back. "Whaaaa?" she blurted out.

The Judge said, "Since both parties have agreed of their own free will, and according to the statutes of Hershey County, Bonnie Rouge will immediately take the place of the dead ox for all the remaining days of her natural life. She will be called Blue. She will pull farmer Amos' hay cart and plow, and also service farmer Amos in whatever other ways he desires. You may take your compensation ox away, Amos. She is totally yours according to the law."

Bonnie was appalled at this madness. Everyone knew an ox was a male that had been castrated. She was most definitely a healthy female, and she feared that the farmer would demand her services very differently than from a male animal. And worst of all, she had no way out, because the full power of the law would be enforced upon her.

For the first time since the accident, Amos smiled as he thanked the Judge. He buckled a collar around hapless woman's neck and clipped a lead to it. He clucked twice and tugged at the leash of his replacement ox. "Come on, Blue. Now you can get going girl, and most definitely you will do all that you need to do!" he said, mockingly, as he led her away.



It was only a day later, and there she stood tottering on red-nailed tiptoes, hobbled in a stall of the farmer's smelly barn. Her stomach still rumbled, ruminating, from the coarse gruel and water she had been force-fed after refusing her feed and water.

Gone were her sexy red designer dress and pumps. So were her alluring, lacy red, Victoria's Secret bra and panties. All had been removed roughly, without ceremony, and burnt before her unbelieving eyes. She was totally naked.

But her lipstick was still red, only slightly faded. Reddish too was her sore septum, where she now wore the shiny nose ring that had belonged to her namesake predecessor. Her fingernails were still red. So were the sore nipples throbbing on her generous breasts, recently pierced and ringed with more shiny decorations. A darker red were the stripes on her rump, which she had collected at various times for not showing complete and immediate obediance. And most red was her violated virgin rectum, wherein she sported a buttplug from which hung a very realistic looking tail.

She was tightly head-harnessed in leather and steel. Her mouth was cruelly wedged open, bitted. The leather collar on her neck and the leather wrists cuffs on her wide-spread arms were securely attached to a large, unyielding wooden yoke borne upon her already aching shoulders.

Helpless now, eyes glazed over in a bovine stupor, Blue was no longer in a hurry. She was just one of the oxen, forever.



© SirJeff, Feb. 2004