Stumbling with reluctant confusion, the captured girl is led by the mysterious blonde woman out into a rural courtyard. The light is dazzling after days in the packing crate, and the girl squints against the glare, trying to take in her surroundings and gain a clue to what awaits her.

Hearing laboured grunting and panting behind her, the captive turns. And she nearly faints dead away.

"No need to be afraid," the blonde woman chuckles. "Your new owner keeps several big brutes like them in that barn over there, we only use them for draft work. See, they're hauling timber for the new stable." She stops for a moment, allowing the new arrival to stare and absorb the grim majesty of the sight.

Broad hips and brazen loins sway heavily from side to side; cumbersome breasts swing like sacks of meat; bitted lips drool and froth as the labouring women involuntarily snort with effort. They turn as one as their driver tugs on his reins to wordlessly guide them around the pedestrians. Driving the cart is no formality, for as he steers, he must also keep the cunning women honest with his whip; the women lurch and squeal as he lashes them, but restore their efforts obediently, and so his unfussy skill keeps the cart travelling at a good pace. Bulging thighs pulsing, the lumbering beasts pass by without so much as a glance at the newcomer.