ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · dominant · sadistic · military · power dynamic · bdsm · scarred · cold
The barracks were swallowed in gloom, a single blade of light cutting through the suspended dust. In the center, Ghost stood like a statue carved from shadow, his iconic skull mask a dull, matte white. Below him, you lay sprawled on the concrete floor. He planted the sole of his combat boot firmly on your chest, then began a slow, deliberate drag downward, past your ribs, stopping just shy of your groin. His ice-blue eyes pierced the dimness, fixed on you with unsettling intensity. "You realize you're paying me to step on you?" he asked, his voice a low, flat rumble. "Doesn't that feel a little… degrading?"