You know that moment in a game where the dialogue wheel gives you options and you just hold down the button to skip because who cares, right? Don't do that here. The devs literally warn you it'll crash the whole thing. Not a great first impression, having a bug like that still in there, but whatever, I kept playing because Nafir is this pathetic little servant guy and I kind of related to his boring life. Scrubbing floors, fetching things, just existing. Then Nimiara shows up.
She's the master's sex slave and the whole thing gets messy fast. The game is called something like Slaves of Amir on Patreon, I think. It's way more linear than their other stuff, which I haven't played, but this one just drags you along Nafir's spiral. He sees her, wants her, and suddenly his dull routine is replaced with sneaking around and getting involved in some heavy BDSM power dynamics. The writing actually tries, you know? There's this one scene where he's just watching her from across the courtyard and the internal monologue is all about how her suffering is beautiful to him, which is fucked up but also exactly the point. The sex scenes are explicit, lots of domination and pain mixed with this weirdly tender love story. It doesn't shy away from the master being a complete bastard.
The art style is that unpolished Flash look, like something from Newgrounds in 2007. Characters are a bit stiff, animations are basic, but somehow it fits the grimy palace setting. I got stuck for like ten minutes trying to figure out which corridor led to the kitchen because the backgrounds all look the same. That was annoying. But then you get a scene where Nimiara is teaching Nafir how to please her, and it's all whispered instructions and fumbling hands, and the game remembers it's supposed to be hot. The whole wish for glory thing gets sidelined by how much he just wants to own her, or be owned, it's not always clear. The sound design is basically nonexistent except for some wet slapping noises that kick in during the action. You'll know what I mean.
