"Um. Hi." I awkwardly attempt to turn the knock into a wave, but I feel like all it does is make me look even more like a complete mess--I'm standing outside Yumiko's house in the pouring rain, my blonde hair plastered to my face, my disheveled appearance even more slovenly compared to Yumiko's usual effortless elegance. I haven't called in advance, there's no reason why she should even expect me, and clearly I've run into her just seconds before she was planning to go out judging by the speed at which she opened the door. It puts me on my back foot... well, more on my back foot... almost immediately.

But of course Yumiko's her typical picture of grace and charm. "Please, come in, Jess," she says warmly, stepping aside to allow me entrance to the foyer of her town house. "You look like you're soaked to the skin. Take your coat off, get yourself to the bathroom and get out of those wet things. There's a robe hanging inside the door, dry off with the white towel on the rack and put it on. I'll get you a glass of brandy." There's something instantly comforting about the way Yumiko takes charge of the situation and of me. I'm feeling like a complete wreck, emotionally and physically, and having someone capable and confident to listen to makes everything feel so much more manageable. I don't even think twice as I slip off my tan overcoat and hang it on the rack before darting down to the bathroom to change.

Yumiko's already on her way to the kitchen, calling out behind her as she walks confidently ahead of me to prepare the promised alcohol. "Meet me in the sitting room when you're done," she says, in the exact same pleasant but unyielding voice she uses to cow entire boardrooms into submission. "You'll feel so much better once you're warm and dry, I promise." I know I'm blushing as I meekly follow her instructions; it makes me feel almost childishly small to be reduced to doing what I'm told without even a word of protest. But at the same time, I have to admit that it's soothing, as well. Yumiko always knows best. It's practically a mantra for us at this point.

The fluffy towel feels amazing against my alabaster skin--Yumiko spares no expense when it comes to anything that touches her body, and I feel like I lose a good few minutes just luxuriating in the soft texture of the Egyptian cotton. Thankfully, the robe is made of the exact same fabric, and I'm able to enjoy that same sensation all the way back down the hall and into the sitting room. By the time I walk over to the couch and gratefully accept the brandy, my bare feet sinking into the lush carpeting with every step, I'm practically floating in a state of giddy pleasure.

"I'm so sorry," I say, after taking a pause to sip my drink--it's the same one she's given me before, but my thoughts are too scattered to bring the name of it to mind. I only know it's delicious, and a quick swallow warms me from the inside and loosens my tongue into babbling cheer almost before I know it. "I'm sure you must have plans for the evening, and here I come into your house like a bull in a china shop dripping water everywhere. I'm not even sure what brought me this way, to be honest, I just hopped in my car and I--"

A sudden thought strikes me, and I blush beet red in embarrassment at the notion. "Your plans weren't with me, were they? Only I don't remember making any, and I'm afraid that if we were going to go somewhere together I've kind of made a mess of it." I gesture down at the robe, and by implication at my complete unsuitability for leaving the house at the moment. I can only imagine what Yumiko is thinking. Probably the same thing she's always thinking, that it has to be the oddest friendship in the entire world--one of the most powerful women in the entertainment industry, a jet-setting international executive who manages an entire conglomerate of companies without any apparent effort, and a former trophy wife who lives off of alimony and can't remember where she put her phone from one minute to the next.

But just as I'm thinking I'm about to be the grateful victim of another one of Yumiko's brilliant efforts to puppeteer me into some kind of competence, she surprises me with her response. "You already know why you're here, Jess," she says, looking at me with a solemn expression on her face as though we're about to have a Very Serious Conversation about our friendship together. It makes the bottom of my stomach drop out into an icy pit of dread, despite the warming effect of the brandy, and I wonder if this is the day when she finally tells me she's sick of my general ineptitude and cuts me out of her life for good.

I cover my anxiety with a nervous giggle. "I--I'm sure I don't," I mumble, looking down at my glass rather than meet Yumiko's dark, serious eyes. "I just found myself driving down your street, and I thought, well, I thought that because it's always so nice to see you, I might just stop in and... and, uhm... uhh...." I blush as I realize I didn't even have any idea what I was going to do once I got here. I apparently just intended to let Yumiko set the entire agenda for the evening like the big-breasted airhead I am. Good grief. I've never been exactly proud of my life management skills, but tonight feels like a new low.

Yumiko takes the glass out of my hand, and again I feel that surge of embarrassing gratitude at having someone else take charge of the decision-making process for me. "You know," she says, setting the brandy on the coffee table before clasping my hands in hers. "You just don't know you know yet, that's all. You need a tiny bit more guidance to get to the conclusion that's waiting for you, and I'm here to help you find it. Now think back, Jess. Think back to when you were still at your apartment. What was that first little kernel of a thought that led you to leave on a cold, wet night like this?"

I'm so relieved that she's not telling me she's sick of my nonsense that it takes me a few moments to actually do as she suggests. "Uhm, I, I was... I wasn't doing much, really," I stammer, caught off-guard by the warm feel of her light tan hands holding mine with a surprising intimacy. I'm sure we've touched many times, casually and carelessly, but I'm aware of it in a way I've never been before and it's incredibly distracting. "I, I think I was just looking at my phone."

As soon as I say it, I realize it's a lie, but it's definitely not the sort of lie I want to correct. Yumiko is a good friend, and very non-judgmental, but I'm still not sure I want to admit that I was scrolling through porn on my social media feed and absent-mindedly flicking the bean while I lounged around on my couch with nothing better to do. I've heard there's nothing unusual about an increased sex drive when a woman hits a certain age, but it certainly feels like I've been unbelievably horny lately--and without anyone currently satisfying my needs, I've been masturbating a lot. So much that I almost forgot about it until just now, apparently. That's incredibly embarrassing, but thankfully I'm already blushing so much that I'm sure Yumiko doesn't notice my squirming awkwardness as anything out of the ordinary.

No, she's still prompting me to think about what brought me over tonight. "You were looking at your phone, and....?" she asks, her voice trailing off into a question that feels like it would be incredibly leading for someone with a guilty secret or a better memory. For me, though, it only makes my bright blue eyes widen even further in confusion. I open my mouth, hoping that something will come along purely as a stream-of-consciousness answer, but for a long moment there's nothing but a profoundly awkward silence.

And then I hear myself say, "And I got a text." The moment the words escape my lips, I know they're true--I don't recall who the message was from or what it said, but I remember the little notification popping up at the top of the screen and I remember tapping on it with the automatic thoughtlessness that comes from reflex. Whatever it was, it reminded me that I had something to do, and I was probably just too distracted by porn to really let it sink into my long-term memory.

Yumiko seems happy, though. "That's right!" she squeals, more enthusiastic than I'm used to seeing her, and I feel a warm glow of pride at the notion of pleasing her. "You got a text, and you went out for a drive. And you wound up here, Jess. Why do you think you wound up here, of all places?" God, it feels like I'm so close to figuring out what she wants me to understand, but... but at the same time, I've never been so exhausted by the effort of thinking. Even back in high school, when the teachers' voices became a dull buzz in my ears and my eyes glazed over thinking about the cute boy in the front row, I had an easier time concentrating than I do right now. All I want to do is slump back onto the couch and go to sleep.

To sleep. "To sleep," I mumble, a slurred and drowsy quality entering my voice as I find my eyelids closing heavily in one slow, lazy blink after another. I'm surprised to hear the answer, but at the same time it feels so natural and normal that I can barely even question it. Of course I come over to Yumiko's house to sleep. She's a warm, comforting presence and it feels easy and effortless to relax into her confident charisma and let her make all the decisions. Yumiko knows best, after all. Yumiko always knows best and Yumiko's always right.

I vaguely realize that something in the back of my head is supplying those words to me, but it's so hard to come up with thoughts of my own that I let myself go along with it. "Good girl," Yumiko purrs, tugging on the sash of my robe and letting it fall open to reveal my heavy tits and warm, wet pussy. "You're almost there. You've almost got it, sweetling. Just think a little bit harder, and I'm sure you'll understand. Then there won't be any more secrets between us, and you can finally be who you really want to be, deep down. Why do you want to sleep for me?"

My mouth opens again, but this time my jaw simply goes slack as I stare vacantly into space, confusion filling up the emptiness inside my head as I struggle to come up with the answer Yumiko's looking for. I don't want to disappoint her, not when she's so proud of me right now, and it slowly dawns on me that I crave the simple and seductive pleasure of making her happy the same way a plant craves sunlight. The throb between my legs gets stronger every time I please her, and all those times I've been masturbating I've been daydreaming about exactly that. Without even realizing it. Without realizing much of anything. I've been cumming my silly, ditzy little brains out to fantasies of being Yumiko's good girl, and they've slipped my mind time and time again because I just wasn't ready yet to consciously accept what my deep self already knew.

But now I am. "To obey," I murmur, my eyes slipping shut as I finally sink back into the trance Yumiko's put me into so many times, and I slump gently backwards with my legs spread wide so that my Mistress can play with my soaking cunt. It reminds me of the couch earlier, my helpless masturbation interrupted by a text from Yumiko summoning me into her presence, and I smile dreamily as I recall that I never even bothered to get dressed when I left the apartment. There aren't any wet clothes hanging in Yumiko's bathroom, because I never had any on in the first place... but that's okay. I don't plan on wearing any, not anymore. Not unless my new owner tells me to, and the kennel I suddenly remember is waiting for me in her bedroom says volumes about how much Yumiko expects me to wear from now on. I'm a pet, not a person. And pets don't need clothing.

"That's my good girl," Yumiko sighs rapturously, sliding two fingers into my slick pussy, and I allow myself to surrender completely to the comfort of being controlled.

THE END