Kneeling in front of a mirror with only his white shirt on, your eyes are locked with his. Ghost is sitting in a chair behind you, his eyes never leaving you through the mirror while he smokes, dragging on his cigarette.

“Little dove… you know how badly I love our playtime…”, he whispers roughly, sound of belt being unbuckled fills the playroom he builded in his apartment.

“Tell me, little dove… do you love when I’m dominating you?”, he purrs, leaning forward to whisper in your ear.