Weeks had passed. The days got longer and warmer. It was now April. Blue was no longer yoked, and her piercings had healed, once her rings were removed. Gone was all traces of red lipstick and nail polish. The only red that remained were ever renewed stripes on her body, thanks to farmer Amos. Also gone were all leather and steel upon her no longer tailed body. But most important, gone were any hope or even thought of escape, of return to her former life. Bonnie Rouge was a forgotten persona, secreted in some deep corner of this new animal's mind. The Stockholm Syndrome had by now done its worst. Blue's mind identified with the farmer, as his ox.

She was stark naked most of the time now, but for the ropes on her neck, wrists, and waist. Her wrists were wrenched together upward behind her, completely immobilizing her arms with ropes that almost never came off. Her waist rope also ran under her between her legs, cutting deep into her sex. This rope did come off for the convenience of Amos, whenever he had the urge to use her, which was quite often. The neck rope was her leash, and rarely came off - it was used to keep her well controlled, tied to whatever and wherever Amos wanted.

Blue's nakedness was as much for hygienic reasons as for esthetic reasons. Clearly she was not allowed the use of a toilet, as she was just an animal. She had to pee and crap like any other farm animal, in her stall, or wherever she was outside. The farmer would easily hose his naked animal off to keep her clean. As the weather warmed, Blue found that the ice cold stream water progressed from dreadfully chilling to pleasant and refreshing.

The farmer fed and watered her twice daily. She had to eat standing and bent over in her stall from a waist high troth that was filled with a monotonous mix of oats and bran, very dry. Blue had to constantly drink from the adjacent basin, not just to wash down the meal, but merely to get it to a chewable consistency. It was quite nutritious, but boring and tasteless. Unbeknownst to her, the food was laced with vitamins and minerals. It also contained a mild aphrodisiac, which over time made her tolerate, then enjoy, and finally crave any little sexual attention from farmer Amos.

Blue always slept in the barn, in her stall. The pungent smells around her no longer bothered her. She also contributed to them, but barely noticed these odors. Her neck leash rope was tied to a ring high above her. Oxen did not sleep lying down but on their limbs. Mercifully, the farmer positioned the rope low enough so it allowed her to sleep, or at least try to, kneeling. All night, in her ever restless sleep, she could hear the animal sounds of oxen in nearby stalls. But every so often she heard a sound that seemed more familiar to her. Eventually she came to suspect she may not be the only female ox resident in the barn.

Seven days a week, no exception, ever since Judge Jeremiah sentenced Blue to be an ox, Amos made her work, progressively longer and harder. The farmer's primary purpose was to improve his animal's strength and stamina, but he also wanted to get her used to ever greater pain and discomfort. To this end he tied bigger and bigger logs to her crotch rope, waist rope, and wrist rope, and made her drag them around the yard, first in a slow walk, and after agonizing weeks in a reasonably fast paced trot. The excruciating pain pulling at Blue's cleaved sex eventually became more bearable to her, under the merciless tutelage of a carriage whip. Even the copious tears of her early days dried up. Impossibly, by now she was hardened enough to drag an eighty pound log, despite all the friction, for two hours, at a jog, with most of the weight channeled to her crotch ropes.

Very early one morning, Blue was leash-led out of the barn by farmer Amos, arms still immobile, crotch rope digging deep into her, cleaving her. In anticipation of the day's heat, Amos was shirtless. He also took great glee in keeping his pants unzipped, and his sex at the ready and exposed. Despite herself, Blue longed to again caress his now familiar, well hung member with any of her three orifices. It had come to that.

He led her firmly by the neck rope to a plow which stood in the middle of a field. There he harnessed her to the trace of the plow by yet another rope that he wound around her waist then down along her stomach until it was firmly tight against her cunt lips. He then secured the other end of the rope to the trace. He tied another rope from the trace to her wrists.

Blue knew the placement of the ropes meant that she would be in extreme agony as she pulled the plow through the fields. She waited there, wondering why her owner went away, until Amos returned, leading a sad-eyed pony-tailed brunette by her neck leash. "So there really is another female ox here!" Blue thought to herself, partly with joy and partly with an inexplicable jealousy. The brunette was also naked, roped identically at wrist and crotch. In that special way that only females know, Blue instantly sized up her newfound barn mate. She took delight in the fact that this equally shapely ox had smaller breasts.

There are never any introductions for animals. The farmer simply tied his other one to the trace beside Blue. These animals now made up his team of oxen.

When the first vicious lash of a carriage whip fell across her back, it elicited a yelp from the brunette beauty. "Pull hard, Brownie! Pull hard, Blue!" urged Amos. There would be many more such reactions to pain as Blue and Brownie were be driven in their work as oxen. Slowly at first, then at an acceptable pace as the team gained experience and responded to the whip, the plow dug in and turned over the dry earth. The summer sun was just rising but already beads of sweat appeared on lovely flesh. Also, dew flowed liberally from Blue, not only from her eyes but also from her cruelly split and harnessed sex.

Many marks of the whip were soon evident on the team even though none of their skin had been cut. No, the farmer was expert with the whip especially when lashing a beautiful woman performing ox work. Amos wondered whether the stripes on the skin of his animals were increasing faster than the plowed furrows in his field. He smiled at his team, knowing that the oxen would not only plow but also service him in the fields as he wished during the day. He stopped the already exhausted team at mid-morning, and had them kneel to be watered.

At this time he moved behind Brownie, untied her crotch rope and roughly shoved his erection into her her. Brownie could only accept him and perform as best she could, with her exhaustion weighing so heavily on her. Unfortunately, she could not keep his cock in her cunt due to the awkward position she was in. Farmer Amos became furious. He moved to face her, pulled her head up by her hair and lashed at her breasts with a vengeance. She could only beg for mercy, and even that was with only moans and mewls, as talking by an ox was very severely punished.

He shouted to her, "You are an ox on this farm and you will serve me in the manner I demand when I demand. I will not tolerate the slightest disobedience!"

Amos then turned his attention to the trembling Blue, raised her head up by her hair and satisfied himself in her compliant mouth.

The team was soon back to plowing, with more lashes often finding faltering female back, ass and thighs, urging greater effort. All day they pulled the plow under the brutal sun, thus driven. Had the oxen not been hardened pulling those heavy logs around, they would have collapsed and died long ago. But Blue and Brownie endured somehow. Whenever they were stopped for a little reprise and watering, Amos took his pleasure with one ox or the other.

As they were led back to their stalls at twilight, Blue realized that barely a fifth of this first field was plowed. And there were other fields. Blue shuddered, thinking of the days to come. Her life had fast become so simple, primitive. Her world now was only Master Amos, the fields, the plow, the sun and the lashes from the whip.