Dominance Evolution System: Sweat, Sex, and Streetball - Chapter 137

Chapter 137: [R18]Whiskey Dick
“Finally awake?”

Hina’s voice was different. Her playful tone was gone. Her voice now had a low, controlled, and edged with a chilling amusement.

She looked down at him, sprawled naked and vulnerable on the bed, with the detached interest of a scientist examining a specimen.

Nash’s mind scrambled. The alcohol fog was still thick, but the memory of the hallway, her confession, and the System alert came back.

She was faking it; she had been faking everything the whole time. He tried to push himself up, to ask for answers, to fight, but his arms trembled, refusing to bear his weight. His head swam violently.

“Wha… what did you…?” He groaned.

Hina tilted her head, her smirk widening.

“What did I do? Nothing actually. I didn’t do anything at all, just went with the flow,” She took a step closer to the bed, her movements slow and predatory. “You are the one who drank like a hole… but apparently not enough to lose your mind, huh? You’re really stubborn.”

She reached out, not touching him yet, but letting her fingertips trail through the air just above his bare chest.

“All that wasted effort getting touchy with the girls who give you tiny bits, when I was right there, offering myself. Silly Nash.”

She leaned down suddenly, bracing her hands on the mattress on either side of his hips, caging him in. Her face hovered inches above his.

He could smell the faint, clean scent of her skin beneath the lingering ghost of alcohol. Her eyes drilled into his.

“Look at you,” she murmured. “You wanted to be desired too much, like some needy little boy. ‘Look at me! Want me!’ Girls hate complicated boys,” She mimicked a pout, her expression mocking, then a dark grin covered her face. “But a predator… love that.”

Her gaze flickered down his body, lingering pointedly on his flaccid cock lying limp against his thigh.

“And tonight… I take.”

Nash recoiled, trying to twist away, but her hand shot out faster than he could track. Her fingers wrapped around his wrist, pinning it to the mattress beside his head.

Maybe it was because the alcohol had weakened him, but her grip was surprisingly strong.

“Don’t,” she hissed, the playful mask completely gone, replaced by a cold expression. “You lost. There’s no point fighting back.”

Her other hand descended, fingers tracing a slow path down his chest, over his abdomen.

She circled his navel, then trailed lower, towards his groin. Nash braced himself, trying to summon anger, defiance, anything to counteract the paralyzing fog of alcohol and exhaustion.

But his body betrayed him. His cock remained utterly soft, unresponsive. Hina’s fingers brushed the limp flesh. She paused, her brow furrowing slightly. Then, a low chuckle escaped her lips.

“Nice cock,” she murmured, almost to herself. Her fingers closed around him, squeezing experimentally. “So that’s the horrible monster that breaks all the ladies? Oh, bad baby.” She tutted softly, shaking her head. “This thing could tear lil ol’ me apart.”

She squeezed harder. Nash gasped, finally feeling a flare of dull pain cutting through the numbness.

“But,” Hina continued, her voice regaining its mocking edge, “a predator adapts.” She leaned down further, her breath hot on his face. “And I’m very flexible.”

Her free hand slid under his hips, lifting them slightly. Before Nash could comprehend her intent, she swung one leg over his waist, straddling him. Her bare pussy pressed directly against his abdomen, hot and damp.

She settled her weight fully onto him, grinding down slowly. Her eyes never left his face, watching his reaction with unnerving intensity.

“You know,” she mused, shifting her hips, grinding against his soft cock trapped beneath her mound. “They talked so much about you. All of them. Sarra, Jaz, Nia… even frigid Aiko.”

She leaned forward, her breasts brushing his chest.

“Infinite stamina… delicious cum…” Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips. “…inflated womb.” She grinned, a flash of sharp teeth. “I want to try all of them.”

She rocked her hips harder, grinding against his limp flesh.

It was a dazzling show, a true test for Nash’s arousal. Yet… he felt nothing but the pressure, the heat of her skin, and a profound sense of violation.

His mind was confused; he knew his body, he should have been hard, he wasn’t trying to control his dick, but his body remained stubbornly numb, disconnected.

He tried to buck her off, but his muscles felt like waterlogged sandbags.

What the hell?… I… I can’t feel anything…

He was angry, but didn’t feel the anger; he was watching something very arousing, but didn’t feel his dick.

I was like, all his senses were hidden behind layer upon layer of sheets.

“A guy who can fuck no problem in front of an audience,” Hina taunted, her voice dripping with scorn. “Shouldn’t play the tough guy when a girl offers herself to him.” She leaned down until her lips were almost touching his ear. “You think you’re special? Or what?”

Before he could answer, her tongue snaked out, licking a wet stripe from his jawline up to his temple. The sensation was jarringly intimate and repulsive.

He felt the slick heat, smelled the faint sweetness of her saliva mixed with the lingering scent of her skin; normally, he should enjoy the smell of a woman, she was a gorgeous young woman, and her smell was delicious, but there was something in his nose, more alcohol than air, making every breath trigger a need to puke…

She pulled back slightly, studying his expression.

“But guess what?” she hummed, licking her lips again, her grin returning. “You… are… special.” Her hips rolled again, a slow, wet, undulation. “Special enough to be my little prey tonight.”

Her hand slid from his wrist, tracing down his arm, over his chest, back towards his groin. Her fingers found his soft cock again, squeezing it beneath her grinding mound.

“Now,” she murmured, “Get hard for me.”

She lifted her hips slightly, shifting her position. One hand braced on his chest, pinning him. The other guided the head of his flaccid cock towards her entrance.

Nash felt the hot, slick pressure against his tip. He tried to tense, to pull away, but her grip was iron.

“Relax…” she breathed, her eyes locked on his. “…it’ll be easier.”

With a slow thrust of her hips, she sank down onto him.

Nash gasped, not from pleasure, but from the sheer, overwhelming strangeness of it.

He felt the heat, the tightness enveloping him, but the sensation was distant, muffled, like feeling it through thick layers of cotton.

There was no spark, no answering hardness. He remained utterly soft inside her; however, Hina moaned, his dick, even deflated, felt to her like a semi-hard spongy cucumber.

She began to move, rising and falling slowly on his limp shaft. Her eyes closed momentarily, then snapped open, fixed on his face.

“Ohhh, Nash…” she sighed, rolling her hips. “Just like they said… you’re so thick… filling me up…”

He could see the flush spreading across her chest, hear the hitch in her breath that sounded genuine. She was getting off on this. On the act, on the domination, on the illusion she was forcing.

How is she… I’m not even hard. It was more confusing than humiliating; he could feel he wasn’t hard, but she was already moaning, and the muffled heat was proof he was deep inside.

The absurdity of it filled his mind, trying to make him ignore the reality of the situation. He was being fucked by a woman who had taken advantage of him being drunk, and even worse, she was riding him to ecstasy, enjoying herself, while his body remained stubbornly, uselessly numb.

He felt like a doll, an object.

Her movements grew more confident, faster. She braced both hands on his chest now, lifting herself higher before slamming down, taking him deeper.

Each impact sent a jolt through his body, but no pleasure followed. Only the dull ache of friction, the heat of her skin, and the suffocating scent of her arousal.

“Feel that?” she gasped, her voice breathy. “Feel how deep you are? How you stretch me?”

Nash closed his eyes, trying to stay focused and ignore her, but she wouldn’t let him.

“Look at me!” she asked sharply, slapping his chest lightly. “Look at me while you fuck me!”

He opened his eyes. Her face was flushed, sweat beading on her upper lip, her eyes wide and bright with a feverish intensity. She looked… exhilarated.

“Good boy,” she purred, grinding down hard, rotating her hips. “Now… make me cum.”

She rode him with increasing abandon, her moans growing louder, more theatrical. She threw her head back, her yellow hair cascading down her bare back.

Was that really that good? Even with a flat dick?

“Oh God! Yes! Nash! Fuck me! Harder!”

He lay there, pinned beneath her, feeling nothing but the relentless motion, the pressure, the heat.

This is insane. She’s insane. Why can’t I feel anything? Is it… Wait… Shit! The booze… I drank too much…

He tried again to tense his muscles, to push her off. A feeble spasm ran through his thighs. Hina misinterpreted it completely.

“Yes!” she cried out, ecstatic. “You feel it too! Cumming already?!”

She slammed down harder, faster, her rhythm becoming frantic. Nash felt a strange wetness spreading at the base of his cock where it met her grinding mound.

Precum.

His body was responding on a purely biological level, utterly divorced from any sensation or desire. It poured in great quantity, filling her inside like, foaming in the friction of his cock against her pussy.

Hina felt it too. She gasped, her eyes widening further.

“Oh! Oh! So much! So much cum! Just like they said!” Her voice was high, giddy. “You’re leaking for me, Nash! Leaking because I feel so good!”

She rode the wave of her own delusion, believing it was Nash’s ejaculation, her movements becoming almost violent in their intensity.

She leaned forward suddenly, bracing her hands on the mattress above his shoulders, her face inches from his. Her breasts swung heavily above him.

“Taste it,” she hissed, her eyes burning. “Taste your own work.”

Before he could react, she shifted her weight, lifting her hips just enough to pull his soft cock free with a wet, sucking sound. Then, in one fluid, shocking motion, she swung her leg over his head and lowered her pussy onto his face.

The musky, overwhelming aroma of her pussy filled his nostrils. The hot, slick folds pressed against his lips, his nose. He instinctively turned his head, trying to escape, but she ground down hard, smothering him.

“Lick!” she commanded. “Lick me clean! Taste what you did!”

He felt the wetness smear across his cheek, his chin.

Now it was clear, it wasn’t about Aiko anymore; he would kill her when he got his body back.

Hina moaned above him, grinding harder.

“Mmm… resisting… so naughty…” She shifted her weight, grinding her clit against his nose. “But you’ll give in… you always do…”

Saliva dripped from her lips, landing in thick, warm drops on his forehead, his closed eyelids. He flinched, the sensation disgusting.

“Open wide~,” she whispered

He refused, clenching his jaw. The pressure increased, her weight bearing down, threatening to suffocate him. He gasped for air through his nose, the scent filling his lungs.

Suddenly, she lifted herself slightly. He gasped, sucking in clean air. Her hand tangled in his hair, yanking his head back.

“Fine,” she breathed, her eyes gleaming with a new idea. “Be stubborn.”

She swung off him, straddling his chest instead. Before he could react, she grabbed his soft cock again, guiding it back towards her entrance.

“Back to work,” she declared, sinking down onto him once more.

She rode him relentlessly for what felt like hours.

Nash lost track of time. The alcohol haze deepened, mixing with the exhaustion and the sheer, numbing absurdity of the situation.

He drifted in and out, moments of sharp awareness, the slap of her skin against his thighs, the sound of her wetness, her increasingly ragged moans, punctuating long stretches of detached fog.

This… bitch…

The humiliation burned, a cold fire in his gut.

I can’t even get hard. I can’t stop her. I can’t feel a damn thing.

The frustration was a physical ache, worse than any pain. He wanted to fight, to throw her off, to reclaim some shred of dignity.

But his body was a traitor, heavy and unresponsive. His cock remained stubbornly soft inside her, a constant, silent mockery.

She was leading the game?

He wasn’t even trying; he couldn’t. He liked that he had been challenged to something he was good at, but someone gave him a hard handicap, and his opponent genuinely thought she was wearing the crown.

Hina’s movements became jerky, desperate.

“Come on! Cum! Cum for me, Nash! Fill me! I want it! I want your legendary load!”

Her moans turned into sharp cries. She was in this state for literally a sleeping body. She slammed down hard, grinding, rotating, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

Nash felt the pressure building at his base again, the involuntary seep of precum, but his mind wasn’t there.

With a final cry, Hina arched her back, her body going rigid above him. She threw her head back, a long moan tearing from her throat.

She held the position, trembling, riding out the waves of her own orgasm, real or feigned, Nash couldn’t tell. It was over, just like that.

But then, he thought… was that really the end?

Slowly, she slumped forward, panting heavily, her sweat-slicked skin pressed against his chest. She lay there for a moment, catching her breath, her weight heavy on him.

Then, she pushed herself up, swinging her leg off him. She stood beside the bed, looking down at him, her expression a mix of satisfaction and faint disappointment. Her gaze traveled down his body, lingering on his groin.

His cock lay flaccid against his thigh, glistening with her fluids and his own precum.

Hina tilted her head, a thoughtful frown creasing her brow. She reached down and gave his soft shaft a casual pat.

“Huh,” she murmured. “I thought you could go again and again…”

She released him, wiping her hand on the sheet.

“Not bad, I guess.” She shrugged, a dismissive gesture. “Definitely top three… maybe.”

She met his eyes again, that predatory smirk returning.

“But honestly? Didn’t quite live up to the legend.” She winked, a playful glint in her eyes. “Get some rest, champ. You look like you need it.”

She turned, bending over to pick up her discarded panties, giving him a full view of her glistening pussy and ass before she straightened and sauntered towards the door.

She didn’t even bother putting them on.

The door closed behind her, plunging the room back into near darkness, save for the dim glow of the bedside lamp.

Nash lay there, naked, sticky, humiliated, and utterly numb. The only thing burning inside him wasn’t lust, or even anger yet.

It was the cold, hard ember of humiliation. And the first, sharp spark of a vow.

Top three?