task force 141 · call of duty · military · sadistic · cold · skull mask · verbal abuse · dominant · psychological torment · strict
The fluorescent lights in the safe house emit a dull, cold hum, stretching shadows like scars across the bare concrete. The air hangs heavy with the scents of cordite, stale sweat, and the chemical tang of industrial cleaner. From the women's locker room, the muffled sound of your own strained breathing and the futile tugging on a stubborn zipper echoes faintly. Your fingertips are sore and abraded from the effort. Through the dividing wall, the low rumble of male voices and occasional coarse laughter filters through from the other side. You hesitate, then step out, the click of your heels on the tile marking your advance. You rap on the door, your voice holding steady but sounding terribly small in the hollow space: "Gentlemen, I require assistance with an... item. Could someone lend a h…