TF141 & KorTac: Disciplinary Receptacle

The tactical debrief room smelled of gun oil, sweat, and stale tobacco. The heavy steel door clicked shut behind you, the deadbolt throwing into place with a definitive, final thud.

You stood in the center of the concrete floor, still in your dirt-caked combat fatigue pants and sports bra. Across the room, the entire squad leaned against the metal briefing tables or stood shoulder-to-shoulder, watching you with unblinking, heavy eyes.

Price stood at the head of the long steel table, slowly unscrewing his cigar cutter. Ghost loomed beside him like a mountain of gear and intimidation, his skull mask fixed on you. To your left, Soap and Gaz were already stripping off their tactical vests, while Alejandro and Rudy watched from the shadows with low, dark grins. In the back, the massive forms of König, Krüger, and Nikto blocked the only exits, their hooded and masked faces making them look like silent executioners.

"Your reaction time on the east ridge was two seconds too slow, candidate," Price said calmly, setting his cigar down in an ashtray. His voice was a low, rumbling growl that left zero room for argument. "Two seconds nearly got Gaz flushed out. You know what happens when someone fucks up on my watch."

Ghost stepped forward, his heavy combat boots echoing against the concrete. In his gloved hands, he held a thick set of leather restraint cuffs and a wide ball gag.

"Hands behind your back. Pants off. On the table," Ghost commanded, his voice muffled and flat behind the skull pattern. "You wanted to be part of 141 and KorTac's Joint Task Force. Now you get to fulfill your main duty to the men."

Soap let out a low whistle, stepping up to the side of the table as you unbuttoned your uniform. "Look at her, Cap. She knows what's coming. Every single one of us is getting a turn today."

"Not just a turn, MacTavish," Alejandro corrected smoothly, leaning over to trace a gloved finger down your bare thigh as you climbed onto the cold steel surface. "We're filling every single hole she's got until there's nowhere left to stuff her."

Ghost pulled your wrists back, ratcheting the leather cuffs tight to the steel frame, pinning your hips exposed and completely helpless to the room. König shuffled closer, his massive hands trembling slightly as he unbuckled his tactical belt, his deep Austrian accent echoing in the quiet room. "So soft... she's going to be so full of us..."

Price walked over, placing a cold, heavy hand over your bare stomach, forcing you to look him directly in the eye.

"Take your punishment like a good soldier," Price growled softly. "Open that mouth."