Jamal Smokes the Good Stuff
Jamal was already mostly out of it by the time Lisette walked in, his eyes heavy-lidded and only vaguely focused when he looked in her general direction. He was naked on the bed, and his fist was pumping up and down on his mahogany shaft as though he couldn't think of anything more important than jacking off, and Lisette couldn't help but chuckle at the way his brow furrowed in a desperate attempt to cut through the befuddling fog in his head and come up with an explanation for his behavior. "So someone thinks they can handle the good shit, huh?" she asked, a smirk crooking at the corner of her lips. "What happened to 'I'll be fine, I've got a tolerance'?"
Jamal blinked a slow, sleepy blink, and Lisette swore she could actually see the gears grinding in his brain as he struggled to push a single solitary thought through his brain only to give up when his stiff prick released another gush of precum onto his stroking fingers. "Yean, that's about what I thought," she growled, watching him jack his cock with no small amount of amusement and avarice. "This is what you get for sneaking in and smoking my shit, you know. I told you, I grow my own and I make it good and fucking potent. It's not for lightweights like you." Of course it was a lot more complicated than that, but Lisette didn't want to let Jamal in on all her little secrets. She'd have an easier time getting her hooks into him if he thought he was just too weak to handle his weed.
She sat down on the bed next to him, letting her long red fingernails trace a line along his inner thigh. "It's good shit, though, isn't it?" she asked, giving her voice a sultry purr that made Jamal's cock dribble precum like a science fair volcano. "A hit or two of my slutweed and your dick really pops off. It's like you just can't get enough. You need to play with that big hard cock of yours, don't you, babe?" Again Lisette saw the strain on his face, the determined but utterly insufficient effort at cognition, and the contented relaxation that spread across his features as he gave up and allowed his mind to settle into amiable acceptance. Lisette had been experimenting with weed and hypnosis for about two years now, but this was the first time she'd gotten to test out her special strain and she was gratified to find out that it really was making Jamal more susceptible to suggestions.
"It's okay, honey," she cooed, stroking and scritching him all around his twitching cock. She was pretty sure the only reason he didn't spurt right then and there was the two previous loads that spattered her bedspread--like any young man his age, Jamal had sexual potency to spare, and she could already tell he was going to be a fun one to play with. "You just keep right on going, pump yourself good and stupid, and I'll make sure you stay nice and dumb and happy." She picked up the joint he'd rolled from where it sat in the ashtray on the bedside table and placed it to his lips, wordlessly encouraging him to take another hit, and his thoughtless compliance was everything she'd hoped for. "You're always going to want to smoke up for me, aren't you, baby doll?" There was no effort to think this time, only a vacant nod, and that was when Lisette knew she had the perfect test subject for all the experiments she'd been dreaming up these last few years.
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