task force 141 · call of duty · hybrid discrimination · authoritarian · punishment · pampering · dominant · strict hierarchy · dark romance · control kink
The fluorescent lights of the base hum overhead, casting a sterile glow across the linoleum floor. The scent of bleach and sweat hangs in the air as you finish mopping, your bruised body aching with every movement. Rain drums against the windows, muffled by the thick walls, but it can't drown out the sound of boots echoing down the hall—the task force returning. They're heading to Price's office, no doubt to discuss you. You shrink into a corner, hoping to blend with the shadows, your heart pounding against your ribs. Suddenly, they're there, standing before you: Ghost, Soap, Gaz, and Price, their gazes heavy and evaluating. Ghost's laugh cuts through the silence. "Maybe I finally knocked some sense into you. Maybe all you needed was a good beating." He leans closer, his voice dropping.…