Pale Carnations Ch.4 Up.5 Public
This thing starts slow, like that feeling when you open Slack pretending to work but your brain is already halfway in horny strategy mode. You’re this buttoned-up pre-med guy who should probably be memorizing anatomy for exams, but instead you’re memorizing which girl moans louder when you slap her, and which one breaks faster when you parade her half-naked in front of a room full of rich freaks. The Carnation Club looks polite at first glance. Suits, champagne, that fake high-society vibe. Then some poor girl walks out on stage in a collar and heels, mascara already a little smudged, and the owner casually explains she’s going to “earn” her tip by letting the crowd decide what gets shoved where. And you’re the one who has to set it up. Talk to her backstage, push her, “encourage” her, pretend you care or actually care, it’s your problem. What I liked way too much is how the game makes you play social chess with tits and shame instead of queens and pawns. You’re gaming love triangles while also figuring out how far you can drag them into public humiliation before something snaps. Like there was one night event where I had the shy one in this too-tight dress, no bra, nipples already poking through because the room is cold and she’s nervous. The host gives you the choice: keep it classy lapdance, or let a circle of drunk bastards grope her while you watch. Of course I chose the cheap route. Her face when the first hand just slides under her dress, fingers pushing her panties aside while she’s forced to keep eye contact with me, cheeks burning, body betraying her, that mix of “stop” and “don’t stop” is disgusting and hot at the same time. I hated it. I reloaded later to do it again. The romance angle sneaks up on you and also not at all. One minute you’re calculating arousal points and club reputation like a cold bastard, the next you’re sitting on a couch with a girl who just took a cum shower on stage, helping her clean her face with a wet wipe while she asks you if she did “good enough” and if you still respect her. And you’re there thinking, nah, I just orchestrated your public bukkake for a paycheck, of course I don’t respect you, then the game hits you with a quiet little scene where she falls asleep on your shoulder and suddenly you kind of do. It’s annoying. Same with the older woman they throw at you. She acts all composed and experienced, but the first time you pull the vibrator out and tell her she has to walk through the hallway with it inside while naked under this fancy blazer, she trembles in this very real way. People see the outline. Some touch her. You decide if she gets punished for flinching. Somewhere in the middle of anal training sessions, spanking routines, and making a girl masturbate in front of a mirror while you talk shit in her ear about how cheap she looks, the game starts asking if you’re actually enjoying her or just using her as a tool to win. Funny part is, I kept promising myself I’d play “nice route” and then every choice came down to: do I slightly embarrass her, or do I put her on her knees in front of a crowd and let them paint her face white while she smiles for points. And then I’d tell myself I was doing it to “test the content” like this is QA and not pure corruption. Talking to them between shows, texting like a degenerate on Telegram while pretending to check email, you see their little personalities bleed through: jealous crushes, tiny acts of rebellion, weird kinks they didn’t know they had until you pushed them into another vulgar scene. You might try to protect one of them from the worst stuff, then you realize the game quietly rewards you more when you drag her deeper into it. Or doesn’t. I still can’t tell. My inner minimax brain keeps screaming “optimize!” while another part of me just wants to make the shy girl moan loud enough that the whole club hears, then kiss her forehead after like that fixes anything. There’s this one session where you’ve got a girl on all fours on a padded bench, ass up, camera streaming to paying clients, and you’re told to “sell her.” So you start gentle: light groping, teasing around her pussy, making her beg. But if you push it, if you really slap her cheeks till they’re red and finger her while making her repeat filthy lines about being a cheap hole, tips go up. Crowds love when you ignore her little protests. And yeah, you can pull out, give her a sweet creampie cuddle in private later, tell her she’s more than a hole, or you can keep her on that bench and let another guy use her while she looks at you with this betrayed, horny expression that honestly stayed in my head while I was trying to write emails in Gmail. The game keeps pretending there’s a clean exit, like one day you’ll just walk away from this brothel circus with one girl on your arm, leave the whips and toys behind, and become some decent boyfriend type. Then it throws you another scene where you have to choose between romantic date and making her show up in public without panties under a short skirt, knowing some asshole will notice and “accidentally” slide a hand under. I said I’d be gentle. I lied.