Guy sees one weird ad on his phone, taps it like an idiot, and suddenly his whole life is tits, rules, and women who talk to him like he’s a toy they bought on Amazon. That’s pretty much the vibe of Femdom Academy. It feels like one of those shady mobile apps that tries to flirt with you in push notifications, except this time the flirting turns into a full school system built around you being the rare guy in a country full of horny, bossy women who think “consent form” is just a warm up. The setting is this strict academy where you’re the male transfer student, and every hallway is a trap. You’re staring up at teachers with big tits pressed against the desk, classmates who pretend to be sweet girls but tighten the metaphorical collar the second you say something stupid, and prefect-types who show up after classes to check if you did your “obedience homework”. Half the time you’re trying to be smooth and spit some pickup line like you’re on Bumble, half the time you’re on your knees wondering how the hell a math quiz turned into a blowjob test with a vibrator involved.

What I liked a lot is how the game actually lets you mess up your “game”. You try to be charming, throw out a line you’d use on Tinder, and instead of a cheesy romance answer you get a sharp smile and, boom, she’s pushing your head right into her thigh and telling you exactly how you’re going to make up for that cheesy shit. There’s this scene in a study room, for example, where you can try to compliment a girl’s ass in a cocky way. If you aim it right, she leans back in her chair, spreads her legs slow, pulls a toy from her bag like it’s just a pen, and starts teasing herself while making you watch. If you aim it wrong, she calls over another girl, they both sit on your face one after the other and keep talking about your “presentation skills” like it’s a normal group project. The whole POV thing hits harder here because the camera keeps you low, looking up at their thighs, their hands in your hair, drool and lipstick and that slight cruel smile when they know they’ve got you. There’s a lesbian angle running in the background too, some girls playing with each other while using you as furniture, and you catch tiny glimpses of jealousy or softness when they think you’re not looking. But every time you think “oh, she’s actually nice”, she tightens a collar, grabs your chin and makes you hold eye contact while she uses a vibrator on you until your legs shake. It’s rough, a bit crazy, sometimes emotional in a weird way, and very obviously about you being the rare dick in a world of confident women who want everything from handjobs in the locker room to full-on group scenes in the dorm, on their terms, at their pace, with your role locked in as the willing, horny, slightly overwhelmed toy who keeps coming back for more.

College spits you back out, you drag your suitcase up the old familiar stairs, and the first thing that hits you is that weird mix of nostalgia and horny frustration. You’re supposed to be the “grown up” version of yourself now, but the house still smells like coffee, furniture polish and that floral perfume your grandma’s friend wears. She’s the one waiting inside. Not some generic landlady with rented room rules, but this older woman who clearly remembers you as “such a cute kid” and now can’t stop staring at the outline in your jeans when you stretch. The game leans hard into that shift, that strange moment where polite family-adjacent small talk slowly, painfully tilts into something that should probably be illegal in five different ways. It does not rush. It pokes at you. Constantly. Morning wood scenes, shower doors that never really close, “accidental” brushing of her tits against your back when she squeezes behind you in the tiny kitchen. You’re not being told “this is a porn game, go click sex.” You’re stuck in that half-realistic, half-fantasy zone where you creep around the hallway at night, phone screen low, pretending you’re going to the bathroom while you secretly hope to catch her bent over the washing machine again.

What hits hardest is how much of the actual play is just you existing in this cramped domestic space with people who all want something from you. Some want comfort, some want cock, some pretend they don’t want either. You spend a lot of time in small interactions: a hand on your thigh lingering just a bit too long during a movie, toes sliding up your calf under the table, a “help me with this zipper” that clearly doesn’t need help. One scene that stuck with me was when you’re on the couch with her, late, both tipsy, and she falls asleep half on your lap. Your hand ends up resting on her ass almost by accident. You can pull away like a good little boy, or you can let your fingers sink in a bit, feel that heavy warmth, smell her skin. If you push your luck she doesn’t jump, she sighs, like she’s been waiting for this exact mistake. It’s slow burn, but when it finally snaps, the game is not shy. You go from stolen glances to her on her knees, spit on your cock, mumbling how long she waited to taste you. There’s worship here, a lot of it. Your body is treated like a toy and a shrine at the same time: cock kissing, balls cradled, her laughing while she edges you with lazy strokes and then scolding you for almost cumming on her face without permission. At some point you realize half the house has their own angle on you, from the sweet virgin type who just wants cuddles and suddenly finds herself riding you until she squirts on your stomach, to the pushy one who uses your face like a seat and then pretends it never happened at breakfast. There is some goofy stuff too, like a cosplay night that starts as a silly joke and ends with you in handcuffs, her in a way-too-tight outfit, using a toy on herself while you’re forced to watch until she lets you join. The writing swings between affectionate and filthy in a way that feels messy, a bit clumsy, but honest. Sometimes the pacing drags and you’ll click through way too many “good morning” scenes for one butt squeeze, and a couple of side characters feel like they exist only to feed your dick without much personality. But then there is this tiny quiet moment where one of them curls up against your chest after a crazy group scene, tracing circles on your skin, whispering that she hopes you don’t leave again, and you realize the game is not only about fucking every hole in reach. It pretends to be just cheap smut, then throws in pregnancy talks, jealousy, cheating, a weirdly wholesome cuddle after you have her bent over the sink for anal. It’s messy, horny, a bit wrong, and strangely cozy in a way that will probably say something about your brain you didn’t want to know.

Pale Carnations feels like someone took a very proper medical student, stripped out his sense of safety, then tossed him face first into the kind of club you normally only see mentioned in Telegram chats that vanish after a week. You start as this uptight guy who really believes he’s still on a straight path, and then your old friend drags you into the Carnation Club, which is basically a brothel pretending to be an art space. The game doesn’t even try to warm you up slowly. One minute you’re talking about exams, the next you’re standing in a “performance hall” where three women are being judged like twisted idols for how well they take pain, shame and a whole lot of cum. The first night, when you have to guide one of the girls through a show, pushed to choose between making it romantic, cruel, or just filthy efficient, that’s where it clicked for me. This isn’t just porn with clicks. It’s about how far you’re willing to go when everyone keeps telling you it’s normal to choke a girl on stage while rich assholes clap in the dark.

The sound in this thing really surprised me. Not “triple A” surprised, more like “why does this muffled moan in the background feel more real than the entire Spotify sexy playlist I’ve got”. There’s this scene where you’re backstage with an older woman who clearly knows the club better than you ever will. She presses your hand to her ass while she quietly instructs you how to handle your “performer”, her voice soft but absolutely in control, and in the distance you hear the audience roar when someone gets spanked hard enough to cry. The track underneath is this slow, slightly dirty lounge loop, a bit off tempo, almost cheap, but it fits so well that I ended up replaying that scene just to hear the way her breathing synced with the bass line. Then later the game swaps to this almost tender piano piece while you’re literally arranging who gets groped on stage and who gets humiliated in private. I liked that a lot. Or maybe I didn’t. It made it harder to pretend this is just mindless fap material when the music keeps whispering “you’re kind of a bastard for choosing the harsher option, you know?” and then rewards you with the wettest, messiest creampie CG three clicks later. The game loves that contrast. Romance on the surface, anal and public bukkake in the back room, ahegao faces in full view while the MC still tells himself he’s a good guy. It’s not subtle, and it’s not trying to be. There’s cheating, masturbation breaks that feel a bit too honest, toys pulled out at the worst possible time, and a lot of rich people treating human bodies like decoration. I wish the little clicking sound on some menu wasn’t so loud, actually, it annoyed me from the start and I kept meaning to change it, then got distracted every single time some milf in heels called me “doctor” and bent over a piece of BDSM furniture like it was a confession booth. Anyway, the club keeps going, the performances get rougher, and your choices keep twisting the knife, mostly in you.

Quiet main guy with anger issues and a messy past, whole town calling him a killer, comes crawling back home with this crazy mix of guilt and “fuck you all” energy. That’s the mood. You’re not some heroic knight, you’re the dude who got his life ripped apart and now you’re choosing if people get punished, forgiven, or fucked stupid on the way to their doom. Sometimes all three at once. One second you’re watching from the shadows like a creep, peeking through doors, catching your “perfect” milf aunt fingering herself over some drama nonsense, next second you’re deciding if you just watch or walk in, grab her by the hair, and make her choke on your cock while she begs you to forgive the family. The game is very much: “Are you here for justice, or are you here to ruin everyone and cum inside them while they cry?” and the answer is usually yes.

You get this weird mix of romance and pure filth that kinda shouldn’t work, but somehow does. Like, the shy “good girl” who defended you when the others called you a monster? She’s technically off limits, yeah? Childhood crush, still virgin, still looking at you with those soft eyes. You can be gentle, take her first time slow, kiss her forehead, let her ride you while she shakes and clings to you like you’re the only safe thing left in the world. Or you just pin her down, hand over her mouth so the others in the house don’t hear, push into her tight pussy while she whimpers under you, and finish with a deep creampie she didn’t really agree to. The game doesn’t flinch. Sleep sex too, if you’re that kind of bastard: sneaking into her room when she’s out cold, pulling her panties aside, slowly sliding in while she’s half dreaming, half moaning your name, and you’re sitting there deciding if that’s “love” or just you using her like a toy. And yes, it actually animates those moments, hips moving, tits bouncing, your load spilling back out when you’re done. It’s dirty, in a way that feels personal, not just porn noise.

The power stuff hits hard because everyone tried to control you, so now you get to flip it. There are scenes where the same woman that lied about you is on her knees licking your feet, kissing your toes, trying to convince you she’s loyal while you rest your cock on her face like she’s furniture. Sometimes you go full male dom, handprints on asses, spanking until they cry, forcing them to jerk you off with shaky hands, or wrapping their tits around you for a messy titjob that ends all over their face while they call you “sir” with mascara running. Other times, you get trapped in their games. One of the older women can straight up ride your face and balls at the same time, pinning you down, making you cum on command like she’s the judge now, and you’re the poor bastard on trial. There’s even this moment where a woman spits on your cock, strokes you slow with her feet, teasing you for being so easy to control, and you’re just stuck watching your own precum drip on her soles. Interracial stuff shows up too, like the darker-skinned girl who talks big, then melts when you push her against a wall and pump her full, promising you’ll “ruin every hole” next time. And yes, expect spying on showers, catching them touching themselves, ending in more harem chaos than any serious revenge story should have. If you want every spicy scene to actually hit, don’t skip dialog, don’t rush. Let them talk, let the guilt and hate simmer, then when the clothes come off, fuck them like you’re settling an old score, not just clearing a gallery.