Dominance Evolution System: Sweat, Sex, and Streetball
Chapter 26: Just the Tip... of My Wallet

Chapter 26: Just the Tip... of My Wallet

Nash sat on the sofa, naked, arms loose at his sides as he cooled off. His chest still rose with residual tension, but his mind was already shifting, trying to settle, to the next plan.

Then he looked up.

Amara stepped out of the steamy bathroom, naked and glistening.

She didn’t rush. Didn’t cover herself. Her hips swayed with practiced rhythm, but her skin was still flushed from the bath, fresh and pink around the shoulders, glowing across her thighs.

Wet strands of hair clung to her neck and collarbone.

Droplets traced her curves, between the soft weight of her breasts, down the smooth plane of her stomach, sliding between her legs with teasing invitation.

She smelled like bath mist and heated skin. A clean, soft-sweet scent that made his throat tighten.

She paused a few steps from him, lips parted in a half-smile.

"Still have time, right?" Her voice was smooth, eyes gleaming. "If you want another round... just making sure you’re still interested."

Her tone was light. Casual. But her body said otherwise, tight, aroused, already twitching.

Nash’s eyes flicked toward her, already tempted. Her body practically begged for attention. The way her chest rose, the gleam of her piercing, the slight shift in her hips, the tilt of her head.

He was about to answer, was about to give in, when something pulsed at the edge of his vision.

[Bond Interface: Amara]

The system activated.

[AMARA – Bond Status]

• Type: Tactical Seduction / Repressed Self-Interest

• Affection: 44%

• Lust: 39% (suppressed, unstable)

• Trust: 31%

• Bond Sync: 1/5 – Surface Control Maintained

→ Preferences

• Love Type: Swagger / Flash / Performance

Erotic Weakness:

Position Preference: On top / Reverse / Visual Control

• Erotic Weakness: Verbal Domination + Public Risk

• Position Type: Side-grind with control; slow spooning grind; face-down teasing with hidden submission

• Foreplay Style: Casual dominance displays; clothes-on grinding; delayed reaction to teasing gestures

→ Trigger Conditions

• Casually showing wealth

• Being touched intimately without warning during a conversation, especially when aroused

• Unexpected gifts or item drops paired with zero praise

• Being dominated physically

• being treated like a sexual tool

→ In-Scene Trigger Events (Post-Bath Seduction Context)

• Nash looking at her naked body without reacting → –3% Lust, +2% Trust

• Grip her body intimately while talking about something unrelated → +12% Lust, +1% Trust

• Saying you’ll buy her a new outfit or gifts.

→ +7% Lust, +2% Trust

• Climax First During Passive Contact

→ –9% Trust, –5% Affection

• Allow Her to Take Control of Sex

→ –6% Trust, –2% Affection

• Accept Seduction Verbally

→ –12% Trust, Emotional Lockout

→ Risk Factor

Amara is actively suppressing emotional attachment to maintain her tactical position. Her arousal is genuine but secondary to her goal of gaining financial and sexual leverage over you.

If you give in immediately, she will register a mental dominance gain, resetting her emotional investment and viewing you as predictable prey.

If you resist with calm control and reasserts your rhythm, she will experience bond destabilization in your favor, increasing her Trust and Affection.

He glanced at her. Her hips were tilted just right, breasts high, still glistening from the bath.

She was trying to bait him, naked, gorgeous, and cocky.

Expected.

Still, it caught him off guard how hard she was leaning in.

He was glad he hadn’t answered too soon.

Nash shifted his posture and patted his thigh.

"Come here," he said flatly, scrolling something on his phone. "Sit down. Help me pick something."

Amara blinked. That wasn’t what she expected. Not rejection, not acceptance. An instruction.

Her pupils dilated slightly.

Trigger hit.

She obeyed.

Careful at first, she lowered herself naked onto his lap, facing outward. Her bare skin touched his, warm and soft.

She felt the shape of his semi erection pressing against her from beneath, his cock tucked just below, sliding naturally between her inner thighs as she adjusted.

A breath escaped her lips. Another trigger. Nash didn’t even comment on it.

Instead, he shifted her hips slightly, gripping her waist, not with passion, but like adjusting a seat. His dick now rested perfectly along her slit, nestled snugly between her slick thighs.

"Better," he muttered.

Amara was still processing when he turned the phone toward her. Chic boutiques. Designer catalogs. Custom outfits.

"What do you think?" Nash said. "Thinking of buying you a new wardrobe."

She blinked. Her whole posture shifted.

"Wait, seriously?"

The catalog scrolled: elegant dresses, thigh-high heels, gold-trimmed lingerie, coats that screamed status. Each swipe lit her eyes up more.

"Oh my god..." Her arms wrapped around his neck without thinking. "You’d really—?"

She gasped.

His fingers had slipped behind her, slow, lazy. Two digits pressing into the valley of her ass, rubbing the entrance in soft, circular strokes. Not pushing. Just claiming.

Her entire body tensed and trembled as her breath hitched into a moan. Her hips rocked slightly, reflexively.

He kept scrolling.

"Yeah," he said casually. "Anything you want."

Her voice cracked in her throat.

"But only if I get to buy you something else too."

She looked at him, panting, eyes wide. "What?"

His thumb brushed the base of her spine.

"A collar," he said. "Black. Soft leather. With my name on it."

He turned his head slowly, meeting her eyes with a calm stare.

"So you remember who you belong to."

Amara bit her lower lip hard. Her thighs squeezed around his shaft. Her whole face was flushed crimson, caught in full-body ecstasy. Her breath trembled, eyes glossy, pupils heart-shaped, burning with need and helpless joy.

Her voice was barely a whisper.

"...Okay."

She nuzzled into his neck, trembling, her lips brushing his ear.

"I’ll wear it."

They left the room sometime past two. The walk was quiet, with only the soft thud of footfalls echoing down the corridor and the distant hum of the vents. Underground didn’t have hours in the same way the surface did, just different shades of white light.

Nash walked in front. Amara followed behind, and not once did she try to close the distance.

No shoulder-brushing. No leaning. No fake laughs.

He glanced at a reflection in a wall panel and saw her there.

She was clutching her jersey, walking stiffly as if she were naked under... well, technically, she was.

She caught him staring and looked away, flushed.

She wasn’t the girl who strutted out of the shower a few minutes ago. She was... soft now.

She’d moaned while watching a shopping app. Moaned with his fingers inside her. That whole moment where her ego cracked and she gave in, not to sex, but to how good it felt to lose.

And the sex itself, the rhythm. The way she stopped pretending and went wild. This whole couple of minutes where she was rubbing herself on him.

And it wasn’t just that she’d done it, it was that, deep down, she fucking loved it.

Now it was catching up to her.

Nash didn’t say anything. He tapped his device again, pulled up his profile.

BP: 8

SP: 20

PP: 5

Funds: 1,505C

He let out a soft whistle.

Half a day. Just half a damn day.

That number didn’t feel real.

He’d barely started two, maybe three days ago.

Wasn’t even a pro player, and now he was walking around with more credits than he’d scraped together in the last two months combined.

And it wasn’t just Breakball matches.

He’d gotten paid for fucking someone.

"Which technically makes me a bitch," he muttered. This last comparison made smile fade.

Yeah. That part didn’t sit well.

He glanced over his shoulder again.

Amara was still following.

She noticed his eyes and looked away quickly, like she’d been caught thinking something embarrassing.

Her cheeks were still red, contrasting highly with how pale her skin was. Her grip on the jersey had gotten tighter.

She’s so different now...

Maybe it wasn’t just the sex. Maybe it was the collar suggestion. The cash. The fact that she lost control and liked it.

But Nash wasn’t stupid.

Amara liked wealth and status. She liked being the center of attention, but only when she was the one steering.

He was just the closest guy with a wallet and a spine. That’s all.

Even so... her stats had moved.

Affection: 51%

Lust: 66%

Trust: 42%

Bond Sync: 2/5 – Emotional Disruption Phase Active

He stared at the affection number.

What happens when it hits 100?

Would she change? Or would she just get better at faking it too?

He didn’t know. But something in him wanted to push it further.

He cleared his throat.

"Hey."

She looked up, startled.

"Give me your number."

Amara blinked, like she’d just woken up mid-dream.

"Huh?"

"Phone. Hand it over."

She paused, barely a second, then fished her phone out and handed it over, silent. Nash entered in his number, and dropped it back in her palm.

"I’ll call. Wanna see you in that collar."

She didn’t have any come back, just a tiny nod, her eyes gone soft and foggy.

They walked in silence until they reached an old ATM at the corner of the hall.

Nash stopped and tapped in his code. 400 credits. It felt like a lot, but not really, not with what he’d just earned.

The machine spit out the bills. He didn’t count them. Just turned around and held the stack out.

She stared at it. Like, seriously?

"...What’s that?"

Nash stepped in, close enough she flinched. He took her hand and pressed the bills into it, slow and steady.

"For being a good girl," he said.

Amara didn’t move. Didn’t even breathe, maybe. She just locked up, staring at the cash like it was about to bite her.

Nash watched it drown her, every emotion flashing over her face. Shock. Confusion. Trying to do the math.

This wasn’t normal for her. Not at all. She wasn’t used to someone paying upfront, or this much, or even treating her like she mattered.

Four hundred credits? That wasn’t a tip, or a bribe, or whatever. That was life-changing stuff for a street rat used to hustling for scraps.

She’d spent years hustling for fifteen creds a go. Quick blowjob, maybe a handjob, maybe less. If she was lucky, fifty creds in a night, and half gone by morning on fancy stuffs or some asshole’s cut.

And here was Nash, not even breaking a sweat, just shoving a week’s worth of survival into her hand like it was nothing.

"For real?" Her voice was almost nothing.

"Yeah." Nash said, trying to act as nonchalant as possible. "Go buy some real clothes. Get shoes, and maybe accessories. Look like you belong to someone."

She finally curled her fingers around the cash, like she was afraid it’d vanish.

"I... Babe, I don’t... Nobody’s ever..."

He turned away, but didn’t leave.

"You’ll get more tomorrow. For food, and whatever you need."

She let out a shaky breath, trembling as if she was freezing.

Then, his voice, deeper.

"Where do you live?"

She looked up, frowning.

"What?"

"I said where do you live. I gotta know what you need. If something’s busted, I’ll fix it. If you’re missing something, I’ll get it. Maybe get you a better place or something."

She just stared.

"Why? Why would you even...?"

"Because," Nash said, eyes locking with hers, voice low and heavy, "if you’re mine, you’re not living like trash. I want you clean. Fed. Slept. Covered in gold. I want people to look at you and know you got someone who knows how to treat you."

Amara blinked so fast she might’ve started crying.

"You... you’re not messing with me?"

"Not even a little."

She shook her head, like it was too big to fit inside.

"That’s not how this works..."

"Nope." Nash shrugged. "It’s not."

Her grip tightened on the credits. Her chest heaved, breath shaky, eyes wide like she’d just been hit with something huge, and he was planning to do that in an interesting way someday.

She stared up at him, eyes wild, like she’d just run face-first into a snowstorm. Breathing all choppy, chest heaving. One second, two.

Then, boom, she just launched herself at him. Zero finesse. Zero chill. Just raw, desperate energy, like she’d been holding her breath for hours and finally let it rip.

Arms locked around his neck, squeezing so tight he wondered if she was planning to strangle him or just fuse into his bones.

Face smashed into his shoulder, like she could crawl inside his skin if she tried hard enough.

"Oh my god, babe," she gasped, voice all broken up in this wild, breathless giggle. "Swear to god, I’m gonna make you so happy, like, you don’t even know. Just promise you won’t change your mind, okay? Don’t take it back, I can’t handle that..."

Her mouth hit his neck, burning, frantic. Not so much kisses as little attacks, like she wanted to leave a mark.

Nash just stood there, letting her cling and bite at him, lips parted, making these little noises every time she touched him like she was trying to steal his soul through his jaw.

Her hands wandered down his chest, fingers spread wide, like she was taking every centimeter of his body in her memory.

"Just what are you?" she murmured. "No way. Four hundred, just like that? Clothes? Food? You fixing my dump?"

She yanked back, just a bit, eyes so huge he could see the whole universe in there. Flushed cheeks, mouth open, completely wrecked.

"I’m gonna be the hottest bitch in this world," she grinned, all teeth. "They’re gonna see me, babe. I’ll be dripped out, sitting on your lap, and every single one of them will know who I’m with."

She crashed her mouth into his, wild and sloppy. Not cute, not gentle, like she was signing her name in spit.

The moment was so sudden and messy that Nash couldn’t properly enjoy it, but he didn’t need to, because he knew he could get it anytime he wanted.

"I’m yours. Want me to put a collar? Hell, I’ll wear two. Want your face on my ass? Say the word..."

Nash squeezed her waist, steadying her.

"Girl. Breathe."

She just laughed, breathless, forehead pressed into his neck.

"I can’t. You don’t get it... I’ve never even seen fifty creds at once! You just... handed four fucking hundred over. No games. No begging. No splitting it up. I’m gonna look like a damn queen, and everyone’s gonna know my man takes care of business..."

She kissed his jaw, then kept going, mouth trailing down to his collarbone, then lower, her hands skating along his stomach.

"I’m gonna suck you dry tonight. Every night, if you want."

He caught her chin, holding her in place. She went still. Nash looked down, all calm and command.

"You listen," he said, brushing her hair from her cheek like it was nothing. "You follow. I lead. Tonight I have plans, but like I said, I’ll call you tomorrow. Write me later so I get your number."

Her lips curled slow. Sparks in her eyes.

"Yes, daddy."

She kissed his hand where it still cupped her cheek, then nuzzled into it, sighing like a girl who just got everything she ever dreamed of.

"I belong to you," she whispered.

She pressed into him fully now, chest soft against his torso, thighs brushing his legs, every breath warming the skin of his neck, arms hooked around him like vines, and she rocked gently side to side, drunk on euphoria, the credits still clutched in one hand like they were sacred.

And that’s when Nash felt it.

The pressure.

The slow, pulsing rise.

He just kept his hand calmly on her waist, like this wasn’t happening.

Boner, calm down. Now’s not the time.