Beast Of Burden Ch 02

Dreams flowed through Emine's mind as she wavered between wakefulness and sleep. She felt disconnected from her body, frustrated with her inability to influence the images shuffling through her mind. Her awareness was smothered by the remnants of her slumber.

Daxeliyne

, a voice whispered deep within the dream world. Her mother's voice, nearly forgotten. Her mother calling her and using her name. Her

true

name. Not the one given when she was sold.

There was a heaviness to her thoughts. A plodding pace that she wanted to rebel against but felt constrained by it as it settled upon her. She moaned as she twisted in her bed to rest on her belly and her voice was low. Anxiety permeated the dream. Something was missing. Something she'd forgotten to do. She was needed somewhere.

There was heat, the never-ending sun and a train of people.

The upcoming trip.

Emine's eyes fluttered as the thought mixed with her dreams, nearly pulling her into reality before being submerged once again.

Eyes stared at her as she sat upon cushions beneath a canopy, swaying with the motion while she was pulled along. Judging eyes. She could hear the toneless voices echoing in the dream.

"You don't belong here," they told her. Accusing eyes. "Lazy creature."

She wanted to yell at them and spit in their faces but, instead, found herself growing uncomfortable. Uncomfortable in the shelter. Uncomfortable sitting. Uncomfortable in the luxury of her caravan while her herd bore her burden.

Fingers in her hair-

flashing to Davud grabbing her hair

- pulling her -

pulling her hard as he forced himself into her

- from her seat. Hot sand around her as a rod slammed into her side -

hand slapped hard against her ass, fist in her hair as she rutted with her master

- and a voice roared in her ears.

A burden on her shoulders as she lay on all fours. In the dream world, she was naked and had always been naked and shame filled her. But she took the weight and began to crawl, horrified that it felt

right

. The driver beat her again and she shivered, wanting to please him. Wanting to do her duty. Wanting him to-

The horror of the situation began to fade to pleasure as Emine climbed the depths of her sleep into the waking world.

Emine gasped as she pushed herself up on her hands. Her blanket lay coiled around her feet as she stared at the sheets beneath her, trying to remember the strange dream before it fled her subconscious. The chill morning air surrounded her but she surprised herself by not feeling cold.

More strangely, as she rested on all fours, feeling the ghost of the handler's hand, she was even surprised to find a warmth between her thighs. Holding herself with one arm, she reached beneath, her delicate fingers brushing through the mixture of her soft golden pubic hairs and the thicker sand colored hairs. She gasped as she touched her engorged clit and the slick lips beneath it.

Pulling her hand away, her own scent of arousal followed. As she breathed in, other smells mixed with it - Davud's cum, the fragrance of their sex and the smell of the hard work he'd put in the day before. The musk of his own sweat and the animals he-

Emine shuddered as a fragment of her dream resurfaced. She clutched at it to try to remember what she could but it left behind mere impressions: control, an urge to please, a need to be useful. She shook herself and sat back on her heels. As she did her, her swollen knees clicked quietly.

The young woman rolled her head and her long, golden hair brushed the smooth, lineless skin covering her back. The fat deposits beneath the skin of her back pulled down to form a gentle, nearly invisible bulge above her hips. Her hand slid between her thighs as her curly locks brushed against patches of short, wiry tan hairs.

Distracted and smiling, she touched herself and closed her eyes as the faint sounds of people moving around the household finally reached her ears. She could still remember the feel of Davud inside of her, could remember his commanding presence and the way he treated her roughly. Sighing, she let a finger slip into her tight sex.

The passionate memory of his fist around her long hair, tugging her head back while smacking her ass-

A moan escaped the girl's lips but she frowned and her hand jerked as she missed the rhythm in the motion.

Something was wrong and her hand slowed until she pulled it away to rest against her lower belly. Her body was sensitive and begging to be caressed as her blood coursed through her and her excitement grew. But, she was restless, unable to concentrate on pleasuring herself.

She felt... lazy and unhappy because of it. Normally she took her time and pampered herself throughout the day but a strange energy filled her as pressure built within. The household was preparing for the journey to visit Davud's Sanjak-bey and she worried that she was needed, despite knowing deep within that she could do nothing to help. However, the more she picked at the strange feeling, the worse it grew until she pushed herself away from her bed.

As she stood, she wobbled on longer legs and her knobby knees knocked together. The girl took two halting steps before pressing her palm against the post at the corner of her bed, spreading her feet apart until she found her balance.

Briefly, she worried if she'd over-extended herself the night before but, as she took another step, she became more sure of herself. Her anxiety urged her forward and she dressed quickly, gathering her scattered clothing from around the room.

The cool silk of her šalvār slid over her bare feet. She pulled the waistband over her legs and up, pausing as the tapered bottom hems pressed against her ankles. The waistband rested against her thighs and she frowned as she continued to pull them up, watching as the trousers rose higher to expose her ankle and nearly half of her shin before it finally came up to her hips.

"What in the world?" she asked herself quietly, pulling at the trousers. Her šalvār were all handmade for her to fit perfectly but now they bared more than just her bare ankles.

Emine clothed herself carefully as she pulled her

daraʿa

on. Again, the long dress slid up to expose her ankles, ending below her šalvār.

Worse, as she finished dressing, she felt constricted by the clothing. Her stomach rumbled as if to mock her while she pressed her hands against her thighs, stomach and sides. Yet, glancing at the mirror showed a slim belly with the curves she'd developed naturally over the years. She pressed her lips together as she turned to inspect herself. Despite the hunger gnawing at her bones, she firmly resolved to cut back on her meals even more.

And to perhaps go for more walks. The thought thrilled her suddenly and she turned in the rough direction of the sparse garden her master had within their walls. The garden and the land beyond. Suddenly, the thought of just

walking

enticed her. Of just stepping outside for a stroll and continuing until she was exhausted from it. Her hands trembled in anticipation but she held herself back. It was foolishness, a thing an idle, lazy creature would do when she knew she was needed. Needed for- needed for-

Needed for-

She rubbed her arms as she tried to think of why she felt so pressured to do work.

It was foolish. She was Davud's favored. She was waited on by all and her whims were often anticipated before she made her demands. If she wanted to spend the day resting in bed until they requested her presence, she could. She knew she could. And nobody would think less of her. It was her prerogative as the master's consort.

Just- just she couldn't stay still. She couldn't focus and her breathing was quick as she began to pace in her room while staring at her door.

Fatty tissue expanded in her back and her dress pulled tighter against her body. The nearly invisible low-hanging bulge of skin along her back grew more pronounced.

Strands of the dark, wiry hair grew along the soft skin of her slowly forming hump, outlining the edges of it. She reached behind to scratch herself but the tightened dress restrained her movements. As she turned to look back, something popped loudly in her neck and she hissed from the sudden pain of it. The young woman turned back slowly and reached up to massage the twinge.

A pure white ring appeared in the tanned flesh of Emine's neck. Deep beneath the skin, the outer shell of her vertebra formed additional bone, straining the surrounding muscle and cartilage until they adapted. The growth was slight but enough to force her head higher. A thin band of new skin marked the change.

Unable to resist the urge any longer, she pushed the door open.

Servants passed quickly in the hallway, sketching hurried half-bows towards Emine before rushing to finish their tasks. She ignored them, as always, and continued down the hall until she reached the room shared by Canhabibe and Nefise. Slowing before the doorway, she listened to the room and peeked around the corner but neither of them appeared to be inside.

Emine breathed out a quiet sigh of relief and continued. Her knees knocked together for a few steps until she once again widened her stance. She barely paid attention to the adjustment as she wandered the estate.

The buzz of the workers grew louder as the young woman approached the courtyard. The bands of sunlight showing through the open architecture increased until the walls ended and she found herself in the open air Emine breathed in sharply with a smile as the warm air surrounded her.

Workers cried out and cursed as they assembled the caravan. A few bowed as they passed her but most remained focused on their tasks while she surveyed them.

Pain lanced through the girl's foot as she idly wiggled her toes in her leather shoes. She felt her toenails click together and realized that her toes seemed tightly bound within the soft slippers. Emine retired to a shaded bench set against the wall of the house. Each step brought fresh, sharp pain that forced her to limp. Halfway to the bench, she felt an unpleasant rubbing against the toes of her right foot. Unable to withstand the discomfort, she found herself walking on the heels of her feet until she lowered herself to the bench.

Her toes felt crushed as she bent to undo the laces and the shoes resisted her efforts when she pulled at them. Finally frustrated, she yanked with force and then gasped at the sight.

The nail of the big toe on her left foot was yellowed and dense, curving up from the nail bed and down over the tip of her toe while flaring out to the side. She noticed where the sharp edges cut into the nearby toe but, as she tried to pull the smaller toe to look at the wound, she realized the nails had grown together.

Worse, holding her foot for inspection, she felt the coarse texture of the sole of her foot against her soft hands. She turned her foot and ran a thumb from the ball of her foot to her heel.

Her arch was gone, leaving behind a completely flat foot.

She stared at it in shock, sure she was wrong or simply confusing herself with a trick of the light. Emine set her foot down slowly. She hid the shocked 'o' of her lips behind a dainty hand as she felt the hot stone against every inch of her foot. Her big toe splayed out and the large, yellowed nail clicked against the ground.

In the short time she'd taken to inspect the bottom of her foot, she realized the nails of her other three toes had followed the first two, thick keratin forming in layers like a greedy oyster coating a grain of sand with nacre. As with the two bigger toes, the nails of the lesser three had grown connected.

Pain in the woman's right foot drew her attention and she hissed as she quickly undid the laces of her remaining shoe.

With her focused attention, she could feel something give way within her foot. The side of her shoe bulged as her right foot flattened to the ground. Leather parted as the sharp edge of her thick toenail sliced through the material. Emine pulled the shoe free to expose a twin of her left foot, bulky and flat with two groups of connected toes.

She blinked at her toes.

Slowly, imperceptibly, her already full lashes lengthened, curving further away from her painted eyes - elongating to aid in protecting her eyes from the harsh desert winds as she began to transition further.

Emine's heart felt heavy in her chest as pressure built in her temples while she stared at her feet. Her mind turned over several times as she tried to grasp what had happened. Minutes passed before she realized she couldn't feel the burning stone against her normally tender feet. She turned her ankle and her eyes widened once more when she saw the dark tinge covering the bottom of her toes and the foot itself.

"I don't understand," she whispered, her long lashes fluttering as she blinked rapidly. "I don't-"

A rude shout grabbed her attention and she looked up to see a powerful man shoving a passing worker. He was imposing and rough, wide of shoulders with a short, dark beard and a crooked nose. His left hand clenched a brush while he roughly tapped a lean man with his right.

The smaller man ducked his head in apology and ran off but Emine ignored him. She'd seen the tall man before. Around her husband. She couldn't remember his name but he tended the horses and always seemed to show her proper respect.

While she watched, he dropped the brush and sat on a worn stool in front of a giant beast of a gray horse. The man tapped two fingers against the horse's powerful leg and it raised its hoof to rest gently against the man's knee. From a rolled leather satchel, the bearded man pulled a short knife that he pressed against the edge of the creature's hoof. She watched as he worked slowly, peeling away errant slivers of the horse's hoof until he nodded in satisfaction.

Blood rushed to Emine's cheeks but she pursed her lips together while she grabbed her shoe. As she pressed her toes into the slippers, they bulged dangerously. She tugged, grunting with embarrassment, until her wide, heavy feet were partially hidden. Her ragged new nails tore at the sides of the shoes as she stood and carefully walked towards the groom.

Emine paused at the archway leading to the open courtyard. She rested a hand against a thin, ornate pillar as the man distracted her. He stood now, sleeveless in the sun with the brush once more in his hand. The man's lips moved while he stroked the horse with the brush. The movement of his hands against the animal's flank was mesmerising, as was the way his muscles flexed when he moved.

Yet, it was the way he cared for the animal that drew her (...

rough hands in my hair, pulling and beating my side as he plunged

...) attention. The groom took his time, stroking the animal soothingly with his free hand while brushing the dirt and sand from the horse's coat. It wasn't an annoying task for him, no. She could see the care (...

pressing against me, skin to skin

...) in his attention and the feeling transferred to her.

The girl's hand closed against the pillar as she felt the ghost of his hand against her. As she imagined him stroking her side. Brushing her hair as she lay in bed before him. Naked like the beast she was. She gasped at the thought when she pictured him naked, too. Beside her. Coarse bristles dragging through her fur as he whispered sweet words as he did with the mare.

Wind blew through the courtyard, forming tiny dust devils while tugging at her dress. She shivered as the silky fabric brushed against her suddenly over-sensitive skin.

Beneath the dress, wiry fur began to spread from the edges of her tiny hump toward the center of her back. She pulled herself close to the pillar and then turned, anchoring herself to the stone with her hands behind her.

With a quiet groan, she slowly rubbed her back against the sharp edges of the twisting pillar. The stone dug into the fatty flesh of her small hump, scratching against the fur slowly spreading over her body.

But in her mind, it was the groom's brush against her back and his hot breath in

her

ear rather than the mare's. Telling her how beautiful she was. How enticing her curves were as she lay prostrate before him. How soft her fur was-

Emine rocked her ass back as an involuntary gasp forced through her full, pouty lips. Her hump quivered beneath her tight dress as she shoved hard while opening her thighs. A moan, low and animalistic, followed her gasp as her engorged pussy rubbed the stone.

"What-?" the girl asked herself quietly as she realized what she'd done. "What is

wrong

with me?!"

Before she could dwell on what she'd do, she pulled her dress class and walked as quickly as she could while ensuring her slippers stayed on her feet. They smacked against her heel with each step until her shadow darkened his view.

"Lady Emine," the groom said, startled by her sudden appearance.

"Daxeliyne," she corrected him suddenly. She'd rarely given her birth name, instead answering to the name given by Davud. Yet something forced the word from her lips as she stood before the man. It seemed important in the heat of the moment.

"My lady?" he said, confused by the strange word.

"My name," she told him while tapping her wide foot. "My name is Daxeliyne. Not Emine. Lady Daxeliyne."

"My- My Lady Dah-chuh-line?" he fumbled, his mouth mangling the unfamiliar syllables.

"Daxeliyne," she sighed. "Daka-leena. Daxeliyne"

"Mistress," he said, bowing his head as sweat rolled down his cheeks.

"I need your knife," she told him while her heart began to race.

"Of course, my lady," the man answered, immediately grabbing it from his bag. He flipped it over, holding it by the blade while presenting the handle towards her.

Internally, Emine relaxed. She'd thought he would question her and was relieved when his face showed a lack of curiosity. It was a plain yet honest face and began to wonder how his cracked lips would feel against her. His eyes were lowered differentially as he waited with the knife held out until she took it from him gingerly. The worn handle sported a large crack but it was surprisingly light and she held it carefully against her side, as if to hide it in her dress.

"What's your name?" she asked him as she turned the knife back and forth between her fingers. "I've seen you many times."

"Yosef, my lady," he told her, ducking his head lower.

"Have you worked for my master long?" she asked, watching his soft eyes and strong cheekbones. She stepped back from him and gestured to the mare beside them. "Please, don't let me stop you from your work."

"Years, my lady," he replied. Despite her urging, his hands stayed at his sides. Strong hands, she noted. The knuckles were split and rough but his fingers were wide. She could almost feel them on her body again, as she had when watching him from the side.

Emine looked around and then gestured. A child ran to them, holding a large leather bag against his back. He held the bag out to Emine but she pointed to Yosef instead, who looked up in surprise.

"You're thirsty. Drink," she told him, watching as he reluctantly took the bag from the porter. "You shouldn't neglect your own needs."

Yosef wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He held it out to Emine but she shook her head and he handed it back to the youth.

"Do they enjoy it?" she inquired suddenly.

"Mistress?" Yosef asked carefully.

"The horses," she clarified. "Do they enjoy the brushing and attention?"

Throbbing pain flared in her elbows and she winced in pain, dropping the knife as her fingers spasmed suddenly. The bones beneath her skin cracked in microfractures from her wrist to her shoulder. Her arm slipped past the open sleeve of her dress as the bones knit back together while lengthening.