Chapter 2: CHAPTER 2 – MISTRESS DREAD

Questions exploded in Claire’s mind. 

Groaning, she rubbed her forehead with her thumb and forefinger. 

She hissed from her fingers, throbbing in pain. 

The nails were chewed up almost down to the quick. 

“Oh, God, are these my fingers?” Her voice pitched to a shrill. Gone were her beautiful, manicured nails. 

Her hands flew to her face. She squished her cheeks; it was plump and soft. 

Her hair was no longer dyed red. Instead, it was ash brown, and the length was down to her waist. 

Observing the ends of her hair, she almost foamed from her mouth. 

Dead ends. Chewed up fingernails. 

She looked down and pinched the fat of her waist or lack thereof. 

Too skinny, almost malnourished.

Claire grabbed her left boob, weighing the heft of her newly acquired size. This body’s breast was at least a size double D.  

Standing still in the middle of an unfamiliar room, she stared blankly at the pristine white tiled floor. 

She took a deep breath. 

Nodding to herself, she mechanically moved her limbs back to the bed with the metal frame. Then, plopping back down, she closed her eyes. 

“This is a dream.”

She took another deep breath. 

Nothing happened. 

“I should wake up. I’m obviously lucid dreaming, right?” She asked no one in particular. 

She pinched her hand and cringed when it hurt. 

Blinking furiously, her smile froze. “Just because I feel pain doesn’t mean I’m not dreaming, right?” Her voice hitched to almost a desperate whine.

Clasping her hands together, she raised them and pressed them against her forehead. “Wake up, wake up, wake up. I’m not in another girl’s body wearing nothing but a skimpy nightgown. Oh god, I’m not waking up!”

Her – no - the stranger’s bangs fell to the front of her eyes. Annoyed, she brushed the stranger’s hair back. 

“Where the hell am I?” Claire whispered.

“Again, that tells me shit!” she threw her hands up and growled at the screen that popped back up in front of her. 

The screen faded away in response. 

She rubbed the hem of her nightgown with her forefinger and thumb. Can it be? Is this one of those situations where I transmigrate into a new world? 

That was ludicrous. 

In those stories of being transmigrated to a new world, the protagonist usually dies- 

Her eyes widened. 

Unconsciously, her hand pressed against her side. “H-how did I die again?” Pressure behind her eyes built. 

“Did I even die?” 

No matter how desperately she rifled through her memories, she couldn’t recall how she arrived in this room. She doubted this was the afterlife.

Someone knocked on her door. “Open up, 007869.” Their voice was feminine, wrapped in cold steel. 

Claire looked down at her attire. She might as well have been naked, considering the nightgown left nothing for the imagination.

“U-uhm, hold on, let me get dressed!” she said. She fumbled back onto her feet and looked around the room. 

In the corner was a thin rectangular wardrobe. Before she took a step forward, the knob turned, and the intruder swung the door wide open. 

“Hey!” Claire yelped. She covered her breast with her arm, and her other hand covered her groin. “You could’ve waited…” Her voice trailed to a stop. 

A feeling of dread bubbled inside of her. 

It was odd. 

Claire knew these feelings didn’t belong to her, yet her body exhibited signs of fear. 

Her body broke into a cold sweat, and her tongue swelled up, clogging her airway. 

The woman stood a head taller than Claire. 

The name Mistress Dread surfaced in her thoughts. 

“M-mistress Dread.” Claire cringed when her voice hitched to a squeak. 

Mistress Dread wore a tight latex black body suit complete with black leather boots that rode up to her knees. A utility belt clung around her waist. 

Just like Claire’s nightgown, Mistress Dread’s outfit left nothing to the imagination. She saw every curve and dip of the woman’s body. 

Claire’s eyes fell on the black leather riding crop, and her legs immediately reacted. Phantom pain kissed the back of her thighs. 

Mistress Dread’s lips splotched with deep rouge, pulled back into a sneer. Her icy blue eyes froze Claire to her spot. 

Not a single hair was out of line from Mistress Dread’s immaculate tight low bun. 

“007869, are you now deaf as well as being dim-witted?”

Claire’s brows knitted together. What the hell did this bitch just say to me? 

She swallowed back her scoff. “Excuse me?” she asked, her tone dripping with forced sweetness.

Her body relaxed, and she dropped her arms. She pulled back her shoulders. 

Mistress Dread only raised a brow. 

“It seems I have failed to get rid of your impudence completely.” She unsheathed her riding crop and slapped the end to her other palm. 

Claire tensed. 

Slap. “You must be obedient to your superiors and your handler.” Slap. “I believe that was the first thing I had taught you when you uncultured swines made your presence here in this holy, sacred Garden.” Slap. 

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Claire’s shoulder jumped every time the leather smacked Mistress Dread’s palm. 

Mistress Dread gripped the riding crop. “Bend over.”

Bile raised from Claire’s gut as memories that clearly did not belong to her played in her mind. 

In the dead of night, the true owner of this body had cried and begged for forgiveness as Mistress Dread whipped the back of her thighs. 

The previous owner of this body was quiet and unremarkable in every way. She was neither smart nor strong and was often the target of the other girls’ bullying in the Garden. 

Still, she remained positive and tried her best. 

Even though Claire did not personally experience the memories she was witnessing or know the owner of this body personally, a spark of defiance ignited within her. 

Was it pity? Claire wasn’t sure. But she knew that regardless of where she ended up or whose body she seemed to have possessed, she would never go against her principle. 

Claire Ortiz was not weak. 

She was a fighter. 

She would not yield nor bend for anyone. 

However, she tried not to be hard-headed or brash. She knew that life was unforgiving to those who lived recklessly. 

This body’s memories already informed her what would happen if she went against her superior. 

Regrettably, until she figured out why she was here, she must not act rashly for the sake of the true owner of the body and herself. 

Her hands, which were curled into a tight fist, relaxed. 

“Well? Did you not hear me? I said, bend over!” Mistress Dread shrieked. The riding crop whistled as she sliced the air in front of her. 

Claire doused the anger burning within her. She had been hurt before. 

She turned around and walked towards the wall. A bitter smile rose to her lips as it seemed her body and this girl’s body were familiar with acting servile.

From a young age, she learned that whatever people did to her body, if she protected her mind, she was invincible. 

Mind over matters. 

She pressed her hands against the wall and bent over. 

Staring at the white wall, she silently apologized to the girl’s body for harming it. 

The boots clicked like a metronome behind her. 

“Know that I am not punishing you. This is for the Imperial Family. They want nothing but the best.” The boots stopped moving. “We must fight for the Imperial Family and protect our lands.”

The ends of Claire’s nightgown raised. 

She jumped when the biting cold end of the leather dipped between her cheeks.

Her breath hitched as the end of the riding crop traced down her ass and between the two mounds, breaching the outer wall of her vagina.

“I want you to thank the Imperial Family for every whip you receive.”

What the fuck is this propaganda shit? Claire gritted her teeth. She wanted to take the riding crop and stuff it in the woman’s ass, see how she would like it. 

“Oh,” Mistress Dread’s voice went light, almost taunting. Claire could feel the smile in the bitch’s voice. “Try not to bite off your tongue. It is your graduation, after all. We must look our best.” 

Claire clenched her teeth; her jaw cracked from the sheer force. 

“What are you doing, Jackie.” A male voice interjected. His tone was quiet but demanded your full attention.

Jackie clicked her tongue. 

Claire peeked over her shoulder. 

A man wearing a black suit, with black leather shoes and white gloves, stood in front of the door. Like Jackie, he also wore a utility belt with a riding crop fastened to his side. He had light blue hair tied into a short ponytail. 

“Rain, what brings you here? Shouldn’t you be monitoring the main hall?” Jackie’s voice went frigid. Waves of hatred emanated from her body. The room turned ten degrees colder. 

“I could say the same thing to you.” The man glanced at Claire’s deplorable state with a blank face. “007869, you should get dressed for the ceremony.”

“Rain! She was being disrespectful, and as her educational enforcer, I shou-“

Rain shut her up with one look. “Jackie. Leave the student alone. She is graduating today to become an official soldier for the Imperial Family. So let it slide for today.”

“B-b-but…” Jackie stuttered. 

Rain cocked his head, and Jackie’s body stiffened. Then, with a sharp exhale from her nose, she roughly sheathed her riding crop and walked past Rain. 

“You are too weak, Rain,” she said with a hiss.

Once the boots clicking against the floor faded away, Claire’s knees trembled until she collapsed to the floor. 

Although she could take a hit, that didn’t mean she enjoyed pain for the sake of punishment. 

Now the issue was this man who filled her tiny room with his oppressive presence.

She flinched when the man walked closer to her. Her back was to him, and she refused to look away from the wall. She begged the body to give her any information about the man, but nothing came. 

“You’ll be okay. I won’t let anyone hurt my students under my watch.” 

Warmth blossomed in Claire’s chest. But, despite these not being her feelings, she relished in the comfort this man’s voice seemed to bring. 

“Try to lay low until you get out of here, okay?” Rain patted Claire’s head; it felt affectionate. “I’ll see you at the main foyer, alright?”

She managed to nod dumbly. She was unable to face him for a different reason now. Once she heard her door click shut, her back slumped forward.

“What is this?” 

Her hand massaged her heart. It was thumping so loudly. 

Heat suffused her cheek, and she squeezed her thighs together to alleviate the pressure building between her legs. 

“Oh God, this girl is thirsty for that man,” Claire realized in horror as she stared down at the stranger’s burning body.  

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