The Tights Stay On....

Fortunately for her Slave, Mistress elected to leave those "special" tights on when she went to bed Saturday evening. So when we woke on Switch Day, well..... her Slave had no intention of letting her shed them then.

So after we read the Times and local Whats-it-Stan Daily Mirror a bit, it was time to attach Mistress to our bed, spreadeagled, using some soft cloth strips readily at hand. (D did a great job of supplying us for any eventuality).  We would not want to cause a run in those tights, after all.

With Mistress firmly affixed, it was time for a few photos, though our collective sense of modesty required me to find some colorful silk to cover the part that makes these tights so special.

And after the photo op.... well the silk made an excellent tool for tickling and taunting mistress s I let a corner dangle and slide gently back and forth across those legendary clean shaven folds. It made those hips jerk and her muscles strain to avoid to smooth caress of the silk.

A some point I thumbed on the power tool, a sound that Mistress always responds to.... and I used it to massage her thighs and even the soles of her feet before finally turning my attention to the parts that counted for this little exercise.

My this girl can squirm, pulling against the bonds at wrists and ankles, but unable to wrap her legs around the source of all that pleasure.

I made sure that Mistress knew the protocol ....

"Can I come now Slave...."

Her voice was almost a whisper, so desperate had she become oh so quickly.

"Not quite yet, Mistress...."

I took a little pressure off, sliding the hitachi away and down her thigh just a tad.

Her mewl of frustration was priceless.

"That's so mean, Slave....."

But I do have a heart. And within seconds I was paying attention to her fragrant folds yet again.  This time when she begged for release, I generously granted it.

And from there it took her nearly a minute to build to one of those rolling thunder sort of cums that left her sobbing, tears trickling from her eyes .... the kind her Slave feels quite proud of when they occur.

Of course, I didn't simply take my satisfaction from that particularly memorable cum.... not I was a bit greedier than that.

Ancient and Not So Ancient Rituals

It was a cold Saturday morning after a busy work week here in Frigid-It-Is-Stan. And there was nothing Mistress and her Slave would have preferred to do more than stay huddled under the  furs through the morning after our wake-up sex.

But Mistress had accepted a gracious invitation from one of our new neighbors to attend a "coming of age" ritual for her son at a local Temple.... So we were soon saddling up the yaks, dressed in our "go to meeting" clothes and heading to this rather exotic ceremony.

Now I'm one of those old Catholic guys. Our idea of a religious service is hushed silence (lest the nuns whack you up side the head), mumbling through a few rote prayers, and (most importantly) getting it all done in 45 minutes so  one can move on with their day and the parking lot can get cleared for the afternoon's bingo.

But there is another approach, as I learned  yesterday: a long meandering service, with folks in the congregation, or even up in the sanctuary, carrying on their own conversations (maybe about their tee times?), walking about to greet their long lost pals, or maybe stepping out into the hallway to check their email as the "priest" mumbles and chants to himself. 

Then there were the folks who kept arriving deep into the ceremony, even as the young man who was the center of attention had already begun his readings from the sacred texts. A crowd that seemed to be about 60 when the service began at 9:30 or so seemed to have swelled to 300 or more by the time the bar opened at noon for fermented yak curd cocktails and a generous spread of local delicacies prepared according to strict dietary rules.

"I think a lot of these folks just came for the lunch, Mistress."

"You may be right, Slave."
 

I must say that Mistress was impressed by the costumes that the men wore to the service, which left very little to the imagination.

I pointed out two of them to her.  "They look a little like the WC and his brother, don't you think, Mistress?"

But what had me distracted through most of the ceremony was my knowledge of what Mistress was wearing beneath her demure frock.

She had spent some time that morning looking for the peek-a-boo tights that D, the SBPP had included in our provisions. 

"Ahh.... here they are Slave..... won't it give you a thrill to know my parts are there available to you under my dress.."

Well, yes.... it did. It made me want to reach underneath at a discrete moment. and I could swear I could sense the aroma of her fragrant clean shaven folds through the ceremony. Was it just me? or were those guys in the male thongs and prayer shawls distracted too?

After lunch the well fed and liquored up crowd adjourned outside for some manly displays of prowess, presumably to show that reading from fancy scrolls is just part of the job.  But by then Slave was getting a little impatient to partake of Mistress's barely hidden fruits.  (Plus my alma mater was going to be on the satellite, hoping to regain some lost pride from their disgrace last Saturday).

So we slipped away, hoping that our hostess would not notice our early departure.

Back at our humble yurt, Mistress napped a bit as her Slave watched the football game. It was actually a perfect way to spend a Saturday afternoon.  and afterwards.... well, Slave made sure to worship Mistress with those tights in place, and was given permission to fuck her long and hard through that clever opening, the texture of the fabric doing a stimulative little number against my balls.

She does know how to press my fetishy little buttons, doesn't she?

A Quiet Friday at Home in the Yurt.

It was a particularly cold day today here in Wak-E-Nut-Stan. I thought I might get frost bite just saddling the Yaks. and when that cock cage steel gets cold, well....just don't try touching your tongue to it.

it would have been a good day to just stay at home, huddled under some furs, until the smoldering dried yak dung fire warmed us to a suitable temperature.

Unfortunately, Both of us had work to do in the Village, and though we were able to meet for lunch, Mistress's new "office" (it's more like a bazaar with a very open floor plan) does not accomodate the sort of personal attention she has become used to from her Slave as a little post meal apertif.

By the time we made it back to the Yurt, we were in the mood for a little exercise -- so there as a spin around our valley on those cross country skis D had so kindly delivered, and  then it was back for a long leisurely Friday night. 

The type of Friday night that was rarely possible with the sullen teens to feed and tend to.  We stripped off out work-out clothes and slid under the pelts on our rustic bed, the fire glowing in the hearth.

Dinner could wait.

Mistress always comes first, and I spent some time delving into those clean shaven folds, plying them with my eager tongue and lips.  Yes, Aisha, it was a bit like that photo you posted the other day. Though that guy does not have the useful love handles that Slave has grown over the years.

When Mistress moaned her way to a nice little starter cum, she was anxious to do a little feeding too.

"I want to suck my cock, Slave...."

Who would deny her?

Soon it was Slave doing the moaning, and begging for the privilege to fuck her.  But Mistress was determined to remain in charge.

"I think I'll ride it a bit, Slave...."

And ride she did.

But here's the interesting part.  recently Mistress has been doing most of her cock riding with our chef, IT specialist  Francois. He's been working on a certain training regime with her. Cowgirl. Reverse cowgirl, etc.

all that riding it seems to have had an interesting effect.  No sooner had Mistress mounted her work-a-day cock than she seemed to start cuming.... and cuming..... and cuming..... It was quite impressive.  If I had to guess, Mistress had 4 orgasms in a span of 5 minutes, until the poor dear could take it no more, rolling off me and requiring her Slave to finish things off on top.

Francois, what ever you're doing seems to be working here. 

Even the SBPP Has It's Limits

We were not quite prepared for the deep snow that surprised us here Thursday morning. Luckily, D arranged for the SBPP transportation unit to airdrop some additional supplies, so we both now have some skis available to traverse the pass and head into town. The extra gloves and insulated pants were a nice touch too. 


Meanwhile, as you can tell from WC's lengthy comment yesterday, his power is still out back in the Rockies. Poor B is left to take what satisfaction she can from his SOC, without power for her Hitachi.  Sounds like they could use the solar array we've come to rely on out here in the wild.  Even worse....kids without internet or video games. No wonder WC took the opportunity to head to his office where he could stay in touch with the sex blogs.


But apparently there are some limits on the largesse of the SBPP, as D explained in her note yesterday:


Dear Sam,

What a beautiful place we have created for you and Simone.
That being said, there are some limitations to what we can do there.

Your request for a hot tub was denied by the home office.

While it looks and sounds appealing, it requires a great deal of muscle to move all the accumulated snow and ice off the top of a hot tub in the climate where you are, and without the WC on the premises to do the shoveling, it was decided those funds could be better spent. 
If you are absolutely convinced you want a hot tub, the suggestion was made that you borrow the "Party King Chili Cooker" that Francois ordered for your January Superbowl party. Fill it with water, crank it up and you have a hot tub for two. 

The other suggestion was that you use one of the wine casks left over from Francois' latest visit to see Mistress Simone, cut it in half, attach a heating element and enjoy.

While I try to be helpful, management seems firm on this one.

D.

Actually both of those suggestions sound pretty appealing D. We really don't mind roughing it! Now I better head back to bed, to make sure Mistress gets her first orgasm of the day before its time to milk the yaks. Francois is stopping over to whip up some sort of confection and  the recipe require whipped yak cream.

Snow Day

Before we get off on our usual frivolity here  from Dag-Nab-It-Stan, I wanted to send some warm "welcome home" greetings in the direction of our friends over at All Mine.  Reports are that Suzanne is back home after a few days in hospital. This is an odd little community. and unlike some of our fellow blogger pals, we've never met or even talked to Suzanne. But "Simone" and I feel a bond with her, Tammy and Jay that's hard to describe, or even understand. Over the last week. we've missed that sexy, sassy tone she brings to us every day, whether in her own blogs or in comments here and elsewhere.And when we almost went dark ourselves two weeks back, it was the good vibes from her and several others of you out there that made us jump back into things and go off on this strange blogger alternative universe.Suzanne, we've missed you, and hope you will soon be feeling better. And we can imagine how worried Tammy and Jay have been about you.


We can imagine it's been a trying few days for the three of you. Please rest up, gather your strength, enjoy one another,  and let us hear that voice again.

Now, where were we....

Our former staff member, the WC, has experienced some early snow out west. We understand that it even caused his power to go out. Yesterday, Mistress was talking to him via satellite phone and expfressed her concern.

"So, without power, how does B (his wife) get off.... I mean isn't she addicted to her Hitachi?"

WC apparently explained that there were other options available, but maybe he can comment on that here late. It was nice that Mistress was concerned about B though.

Well, it turned out that WC was not the only team members to get mired in the White stuff. Not long after I turned out the lights in the Yak shed, the wind shifted here and across the Steppes came what back in River City we would have described as Snowmageddon. Over night we were up to our tent flaps in white stuff. As you can imagine, the walk to the privvy this morning was a little cold:

We need to talk to our Director of Logistics about installing a heated walkway out there.  A hot tub would be nice too, btw.

With the pass into the Village a major avalanche threat, I think I will stay home with Mistress today and see what trouble we can get into.

and speaking of trouble, I did get this brief dispatch from D, our logistics director yesterday:

Sorry, but I'm not available to do any logistics work today.

This news flash just came in and I am gathering up supplies to go out and measure men (those I find attractive), for purely altruistic reasons, of course.

After all those email and television ads for enhancement, I feel it is my duty to go out and reassure the American male (or at least those I am drawn to) that they are well and truly endowed with magnificence.

Isn't it wonderful that I am willing to do this for mankind!

Gotta go now!


http://www.thesun.co.uk/sol/homepage/news/3890656/Study-shows-how-men-measure-up.html

Study shows how men measure up

Average willy size revealed

By STAFF REPORTER

Published: 24 Oct 2011

BOFFINS have published the most important research to affect mankind in decades — a groundbreaking study about the definitive size of the average penis.

The study — carried out by top French medical organisation The National Academy of Surgery — revealed the hard facts to try and curb a worrying increase in penis enlargement surgery.

Docs claim the scientific breakthrough will clear up the age-old query — and make men the world over breathe a sigh of relief — or confirm their utmost fears.

The scientific report says the average male's manhood is 3.5-3.7ins when flaccid and between 5-5.7ins when erect.

The Paris based group also say the circumference should be between 3.3-3.5ins when 'at rest' and between 3.9-4.1ins when aroused.

The Academy said men needed to be aware of 'normal' penis size before they resorted to potentially dangerous operations.

A statement added: "The feeling of having an insufficiently-large penis can be a source of anxiety and psychological suffering for a man.

"There has been an increase in demand for penis-enlargement operations in recent years, due to what some people call 'locker-room syndrome'.

"But these lengthening procedures may have only limited results and could have a risk of certain complications, in particular regarding erections."

The National Academy of Surgery is one of France's oldest medical bodies, created in 1731 by King Louis XV.

It has more than 500 members specialising in different branches of surgery. 

  I must say that by the time Mistress and Didi got finished comparing cock photos on their "devices" last Saturday night, Slave was developing a little "locker room syndrome" of his own. But now that I read this article, I'm not too worried about my "work-a-day" cock. Plus, I also have my lips and tongue to make up for any lack of girth or length. We all have our role to play.

And while the WC may have his own role to play back in the Rockies, he should remember the folks he left behind here in What-the-Fuck-It-Stan. After two nights in the Yak Shed, he left a few broken hearts. Like this poor specimen, still pining for his Special Occasion Cock: 

 

Mistress's Russian Roots

The other day Aisha made a comment suggesting that some recent changes here at the blog reminded her a bit of Boris and Natasha from the old Rocky and Bullwinkle cartoon show.

Of course Slave is old enough to have a fondness for that show. and as I thought about it....in my pre-teen days I may have nurtured what evolved into my kinky taste for a dark haired domme based on Natasha.

The comparisons with Mistress are not so extreme: both are long limbed and willowy; the long dark hair. And Mistress does have some Russian roots.  Natasha was a little mystereious, just as Mistress is certainly perceived by some. But while Natasha was partial to purple, Mistress more naturally gravitates to black.  come to think of it, I would bet the cartoonist who created Natasha has this 50's era pin up in mind.

I will confess that I have a soft spot for the notion of the dark and mysterious type, which probably accounts for how I fell for Mistress, and we were able to sustain a long and very hot undercover relationship with one another back in the Reagan / Bush years before we blew our own covers.

But how does Slave stack up to Boris, who was about 1/2 Natasha's size, and certainly older.  While I'm not shorter than Mistress, I do have more than a few years on her, and, like Boris, often wear a hat to cover up my bald head, just like Boris did. No penicl thin moustache for me, though D may suggest it as part of my cover. Somehow I think Mistress would object, since it cold tickle her clean shaven folds. 

Speaking of which, though she's been pretty busy with her new job, and I'm still busy learning the ins-and-outs of this rather exotic judicial system here in What-the-Hell-it-Stan. But she was able to break away from her own work the other day  to visit me in the Village. and we found a quiet corner in a local entertainment establishment for a little mid-day worship. It felt like old times, sinking to my knees and pressing Mistress's legs apart, as her black undies dangled from one booted angle. Hopefully it put her in a satisfied disposition as she headed back to all that cyber-commuting from the Yurt.

But getting back to Boris and Natasha, I do wonder what happened to them after the collapse of the Soviet Union. Is it true that old spies never die, but just fade away?  In my internet search, I did find this hint at their new careers:

But it could be that, like Simone and Sam, they were forced into exile. Maybe they're an aging couple with funny accents in a Yurt nearby. If we go door to door on Hollaween, we should keep an eye out for them.  By the way, do you like the costume Mistress has selected?

Dispatch from Our SBPP Logistics Specialist

Dear Sam and Simone,

I sincerely hope you are happily settling in with your new lives. Your name choice was wonderful, your sex blog readership is gaining every day, and your yurt is absolutely gorgeous, if I do say so myself.  

The powers that be in the Sex Blogger Protection Program are, in general, pleased with the way things are going. At my evaluation on Friday there was only one large concern, the nature of which I will address later, and a few suggestions for improvement.

I must agree with my employers that I was a bit careless in choosing your relocation zone.  I was remiss in that I neglected to place you in a climate chilly enough that Mistress Simone would feel it necessary to wear black crotch-less pantyhose and high heeled shoes or boots on a daily basis. To address this problem, without requiring a move to another location, the SBPP has arranged for an employment opportunity there in Wherever-The-Heck-It-Is-Istan that requires Mistress Simone wear American style clothing for part of each day. The hope is that it might facilitate more crotch-less hose, more high heels and boots on shoulders, and more lips on pussy action.

In addition, a small extension is being added to your yurt and will be carpeted and furnished to exactly mirror the office of your former life.  In addition to the desk and chair in the office, a blanket as well as aneros devise and strap-on will be placed in the closet. The hope is that you and Mistress Simone might have some up and cuming lip-smacking and exciting bent over the desk moments to share with your readers.

As a reward for your fine blogging, my employers have arranged for a carpenter to build a new bed for the yurt. You and Mistress Simone will need to choose one of the designs below. The first choice is a Murphy style bed that is a regular queen size bed when down and becomes a whipping post complete with chains and handcuffs when in the closed position.

Or you may opt for the style of bed pictured below if Mistress Simone would prefer to concentrate more on Sam’s training.

I will, of course, continue to providing the extravagant supplies and endless array of cooking equipment requested by Francois, and have also been instructed to arrange for massages with Didi, upon request. 

Of course everything can’t always be sunshine and yak curd. No, there is a problem that threatens to put a dark mark on my record, and it involves the WC.

As you know, the WC spent a night in the Yak Shack last week. What you may not know is that his actions have created quite a tense situation between the SBPP and the Local #2431, Yak Herders Union. According to documents delivered to the home office, the WC was quite busily involved in Hand to Gland Combat (also known as masturbation) on and off all through the night he spent in the Yak Shack.  His actions resulted in the female yaks (as well as a few of the males) becoming overly stimulated by the sights and sounds associated with that particular activity. They are no longer content with what is offered by the bull yaks. The Local #2431 demands restitution and is insisting that the WC return and face charges. He has refused to return and has vowed never to smell another yak as long as he lives.

The yaks are not happy.

It is a dire situation, still unfolding.

Please let me know how I might be of further service to you.

Sincerely,

D, Logistics Specialist SBPP

D, you don't know how much we appreciate all the help you've provided. maybe someday it will be safe for us to resume our prior lives back in River City, with only one secret identity. But until then.... we feel safe and well cared for in the hands of you, B and the rest of the SBPP.  We home you will consider visiting us soon. And we won't make you stay in the Yak shed like WC.  If you think accommodations are too tight in the your, there is this nie local hotel to consider.  

Simone and Sam

Our First Switch Day in the Yurt

Before I forget, I want to send my appreciation to D and her team at the SBPP. It turns out it made a great deal of sense to get that extra-large solar array to power us up here in  remote Dag-Nab-It-Stan, as will become clear later in this blog.

As yesterday dawned here, we were happy to learn that Didi had made it home in time for her date with a rather desperate sub from a region north of River City, who had been so generous with his cock photos during our  Saturday evening massage soiree. (I must say, from the looks if it, the guy could use some suggestions from the WC on where to get that high end, of overpriced,  lubricant... it was showing a considerable amount of wear and tear, though not the type of tear that the poor, un-cut Francois suffered a few weeks back).  We are certainly looking for an update from her today on whether things worked out satisfactorily.

Slave had planned to fully exercise his Switch privileges in the morning, but Mistress was a little too clever. After she read the blog, and I stopped my oral worship prematurely, she got a little frisky, and well, my resolve crumbled. Soon Mistress's cum was all over my fingers, and I was fucking her in a more conventional, though very satisfying way.  I suspect she thought she had dodged the bullet for another seven days.

After Slave cleared his head from my typical post-orgasmic lethargy, I made her a promise I intended to keep.

"I guess we'll have to do switch day rituals this afternoon, Mistress."

"Whatever you say, Slave...."

I could tell from the soft tone of sarcasm that she was a little full of herself, and that she was calculating that Slave would get a little too lazy to follow through with his "threat"....

After a little bit of a nap, and some reading of the Sunday papers ( I was surprised to see the rider at dawn tossing the Times and the Yeti Daily Comet on up against our tent flap... thanks, again, D), Slave put on his work boots to go clean out the stables and feed the Yaks. It took me only about an hour, but when I returned Mistress had a bit of a disheveled glow, with her silk robe slightly askew.

"What no good have you been up to Mistress?"

"Well I was talking on the phone to the WC, and he suggested a little phone sex, Slave...."

"Hmmm.... it's been a while, what got you motivated, Mistress?"

"I think it was us talking to Didi about it last night Slave..."

I also suspected it was because we had not deployed Mistress's power tool lately - the Hitachi Magic Wand.  She must have missed its compelling beat pressed hard against those clean shaven folds.

"So how many, Mistess?"

"She seemed a little hesitant, mumbling, "I guess a handful, Slave...."

"So a handful might be five or more?"

"Could be, Slave...."

"And what motivation did the WC provide?"

"Oh, it was stuff about making me beg to come, and I think he threw in a little ass fucking too...."

"And did he get off?"

"No..... he was in the parking lot at COSTCO...."

Buying more lube, maybe?  Bulk purchases do make sense.

"Poor man.... I bet he made up for it later... plus he had that nice ass photo yesterday to inspire him ."

I let Mistress rest up a while from her encounter with the power tool. She finished up some college applications for our teen, and I watched a bit of  football, courtesy of that "NFL Ticket" that D was kind enough to add to our Satellite package.  But by about 3 pm, Mistress's time had come.

"Why don't you just shed that robe, Mistress...."

"So, Slave is going to deliver...."

"You definitely have it coming...."

I had spread a Yak fur onto the floor, not far from the fireplace that was heating us with some smoldering dried Yak dun.  Those Yaks are the animals of many uses, aren't they?

Soon Mistress was spreadeagled on her belly, quite helpless and accessible.

There was a little cropping, then some spanking to get the blood flowing.  And yet, Mistress seeemed comfortable on the furry pelt.

"This is actually pretty nice, Slave...."

I guess I'm just a pushover. By now I was switching on the hitachi, and thrusting it from behind, between those lovely thighs.

Though I did make her beg each time the magic wand brought her to the edge, her body quivering, her hips squirming. And I added some additional spanks for good measure as she lunged against the white bulb at the business end of that throbbing device.

By the time I thumbed it off, I think I had added 3 or 4 more cums to Mistress's total for the day.

"I want my cock now, Slave", she moaned against the fur. And I was happy to oblige, taking her from behind for a while, before untying her and finishing off on top.

We lay there a while on the fur, enjoying the warmth of the fire and one another, before straggling to the bed for a little late afternoon nap.

At that point, I suspect the power reserve was running a little low.  As I said, thank god for the "super-sized" solar array, D. Turned out Mistress needed lots of juice yesterday.

"

Stress Relief....

When our logistics coordinator D learned that Didi had generously offered to drop by the Yurt on Saturday evening to give us another opportunity to enjoy her massage skills, she did a little research for us, apparently in hopes of exceeding "customer" expectations  for participants in the SBPP.  She clearly is into the whole notion of continuous improvement, and adding value to those of us under her protective wing.

So she considered turning back the clock and assembling an entire staff to work out the kinks for us and other similarly situated pervs on the lam. 

But when she ran the idea by us, we were a little underwhelmed.

"They seem a little clinical, don't they Slave?"

"Yes, Mistress, and way overdressed....I think  Didi will do just fine... plus we have some catching up to do."

D got the message and made arrangements for Didi to (literally) drop in for the evening.

The text from D gave us an ETA, and we were standing out front of the Yurt just as sun began to set. Fortunately, I had time after mucking the Yak hut to clean up and get dinner going.

"Look, Slave.... there she is."

She pointed to the billowing parachute, high above us, and we watched as Didi made a graceful landing, only a few steps from our tent flap.

Very impressive, don't you think? Although, I have to imagine that it was a little cold up there when she popped out of the plane.

We welcomed her into our new home, and She and Mistress settled down for a chat while Slave watched his team fall into way too deep a hole in the 1st Quarter against their arch-rival from the Coast. I could tell it was going to be a long night, and was grateful that there would be other diversions to take my mind off that damn Trojan fight song that's haunted me over the years.

At half time, Slave served dinner - a roasted chicken, with some local root vegetables, accompanied by some of that excellent wine that Francois had codged for us at the black market. (It was a shame he could not join us - he may have been out hunting some game for dinners later this week?)

Over dessert -- an assortment of Yak milk ice cream that we had bartered for from a neighbor - Slave watched his team commit two turnovers in quick succession that snuffed out all hope, while Mistress and Didi showed each other samples of cock photos sent to them by their "fans", Mistress using her laptop, and Didi her cell phone.

I was a little concerned that Slave's "work-a-day" cock might pale in comparison, but at least it was "reporting for duty", unlike some others I need not mention.

All this chatter, and the inevitability of my team's inglorious demise made me turn off the TV. There would be no return to glory this season.

"I think it's time for those massages, Mistress...."

They both seemed pleased to have my full attention now.

Didi unpacked the scented oils she had brought, and we proceeded to our large bed. 

"Simone.... it's time for you to get naked."

(Did I mention that Didi is a rather take charge woman ... I won't get into the details of the rules she was laying out via text message to a potential suitor back home.)

Mistress was more than happy to obey, shedding her jeans and cowboy boots and stretching out on the bed... I simply followed orders..."get us music.. light those candles, Slave...."

I do know my place. By the time I settled into a comfy seat at the side of the bed, wine glass in my hand, Simone already beginning to moan softly to Didi's strong and skilled fingers. At some point I suggested that Didi, might want to consider shedding some of her outer garments, if only to get more comfortable as she worked her magic on Mistress. She seemed happy to take up my offer, and was soon down to her own black undies and bra.

But there was a hitch. After completing work on Mistress back, and having her flip over,  Didi pulled Mistress's arm into the air, then released it. But it remained outstretched, pointing to the yurt ceiling.

Didi was not pleased.

"Look at this Slave... she really does have trouble relaxing.  Can't you help me out?"

Well it was almost Switch Day by now, and I had an idea.  I retrieved our red cuffs, locked them on Mistress's wrists, and secured them to the top of the bed.

"This is so unfair...."

"Clearly you need to give up control in order to enjoy this,  Mistress...."

Of course, with Mistress bound, it only made sense for me to spread her legs and worship a bit. And as I nibbled ("You look like a little kitty cat down there, Slave", Didi observed), our guest was toying with Mistress's lovely nipples, commenting on their charm and sensitivity.

Ass you can imagine, soon Mistress was "giving it up", though she was a little quiet about it, probably somewhat embarrassed to have an audience.

After Mistress had more than her fair share of attention, She laid back (still bound I might add). and Slave was told to get naked too and lay next to her.

Who was I to question Didi's authority in such matters?  Soon I was enjoying a deep and very thorough massage as Didi used those body builder's arms to squeeze all the accumulated stress from our exile,  the work week and the demise of my team out of me.

By the end of the evening, the three  of us were stretched out on the bed, Slave in the middle, arms around these two compelling, take charge women.

"You look happy, Slave...."

"Who wouldn't be, Mistress."

Around 1:30 am we could hear the drone of the Helicopter that D had arranged to spirit D back to  River City. Let's hope she made it back safely, and will return again soon.

Weekend Plans

First, I'm sure you're curious about how we got the WC out of that opium den on Thursday evening.

It wasn't easy to round up his traveling cloths, and get him back into that compelling "Genghis Kahn meets Mike Huckabee" outfit that our logistics specialist D had kitted him up with for his trip to shake down his former employers for some allegedly unpaid expense reimbursements. And his countenance was less than cogent as we tossed him over the back of one of the Yaks we had brought into the Village, leading it as Mistress and Slave rode double back to the Yurt.

We tucked him into the stable for another evening. By morning he was more than a little ripe, but had at least regained his senses enough to realize it was time to head home to make sure he was back to work by Monday. Some of the locals escorted him to the airstrip to make sure he did not miss the plane that the SBPP had arranged for him.

And he must have made it OK, because low and behold, there was a rather lengthy comment from WC on Ms. Marie's blog yesterday, where he was offering his considerable psycho-doming skills to help her corale a female submissive to add to her stable.

"Do you think Ms. Marie will take him up on his offer, Slave?"

"Not sure Mistress.... but if he's as good with seducing women as he is with our Yaks, I guess it's worth a shot."

Now we're just looking forward to a laid back weekend here in our new digs.  Mistress will be finishing up submitting on-line college applications for our sullen teen. and I am looking forward to watching my alma mater play one of its biggest games of the season.  Just in time, D arranged for installation of a satellite dish here, and Francois, our IT guru, has properly aligned it to pick up my big game.

But we will also be having a little extra entertainment.

Remember Didi, who was involved in the infamous "Home Cumming Weekend" that caused Mistress and Slave to assume new identities and go on the lam?  She was the surprisingly strong body builder, who also demonstrated a deft touch when it came to administering a massage to Mistress. (Of course, that was after Mistress demonstrated her own deft touch with a strap-on deployed on Didi. If you missed that, thumb back two weeks for a review).

Yes, that Didi.

Well she got in touch with Mistress earlier this week.

"She's thinking about doing some massage therapy work, and wants us to critique her style, Slave."

How can you turn down an offer like that?

Now we had to explain that there might be some exotic travel arrangements to make. But she was game, and the SBPP seems to have a bottomless travel budget.... so she will be stopping by for dinner.

"Now don't pressure me to have sex with her Slave.... she may just want to have a nice dinner and give us a massage."

"I can live with that, Mistress."

Plus I'd hate to be torn between watching the two of them go at it and my team take on the evil competitors from the West Coast.

Decisions, decisions.

Night Out on the Steppes

While Slave was in town, trying to adapt to the vagaries of my profession here in Dag-Nag-It-Stan, Mistress was on her mission yesterday morning with Francois, our chef, and newly appointed IT Director.

She actually called me on her satellite phone (courtesy of the SBPP and D, our logistics specialist) to update me on the day's developments. 

"Francois found the corner of the black market that specializes in high tech gadgets, Slave, and there was even this "Genius", with a black turtleneck and those colorful boots, who set me up with a brand new MacBook Air."

"Amazing. But I bet it cost an arm and a leg...."

"Actually, they took a Yak and a saddle, so. we're riding back double.... cozy, but it works."

"How is Francois doing, Mistress?"

"He's actually great... although it was a little embarassing...."

"How so, Mistress?"


"Once we selected what we wanted, he told this lady helping us ... maybe in her 50's.... to hurry up because we had to go home and get naked....."

"I'll bet she loved that....."

"Actually, she seemed to roll with it, Slave....maybe she wanted in on the action....."

I went back to work, and Mistress rode on back to the Yurt with her new toy.

Mistress and I had decided to meet after work in the Village after My mediation --- there was this big mess about a botched eunuch conversion and a pregnant  member of a Warlord's harem. After she arrived on her Yak near sunset, we settled on a bench at   the town square, and Mistress filled me in on the rest of her day.

"We got home and Francois supervised moving all of my files from my old laptop to the new one.... he really does know what he's doing...."

"Great.... I hate trying to do that.... and did he get a tip."

"He told me he'd take either cookies or sex, and that I don't look like a woman who bakes...."

"And so how did that go, Mistress.... I mean, I need details for the blog...."

We had walked over to  a little tea shop, and were munching on some strange but satisfying confection, trying not to be too loud so as to disturb the other customers.

"We did what he calls the English saddle style."

I raised an eyebrow, curious....

"Me riding his cock facing him, rather than reverse cowboy...."

"I know you like that, Mistress.... so how many for you?"

"I'd say three, slave...."

Add those three to our morning sex, and Mistress had done well for herself.  Plus an updated computer to boot (or re-boot).

We wanted to see if there was any village nightlife, so we  asked the lady serving us tea if there was any late night fun in town she could direct us to.  She blushed a bit, then scribbled a little map on a napkin, folding it and sliding it our way, so as not to be too obvious.

"This could be interesting, Mistress...."

Outside, the stars were out, and the surprisingly  tart aroma of smoldering yak dung was in the air. It gets cold at night at these altitudes. Fortunately,  D had equipped us with suitable down parkas. 

We followed the crude map down sound narrow alleys until a dead end she had marked. There we found a small, low building, lit only by a single purple lantern glowing at the threshold. I tried the door -- locked -- but the faint sound of some strange tribal music filtered through the mud walls.  So I knocked.

In a moment, the door opened a sliver.... we were appraised by an older, stooped gentleman in native garb, and apparently passed muster. My guess - he was willing to take a risk on us on the theory that these westerners had real dollars to spend.

As we stepped inside the sweet smell of contraband smoke filled the air....

I pressed my lips to Mistress's ear....

"Dang.... we've found ourselves a gen-u-wine opium den, Mistress."  Looking around we noticed some rather unusual characters, sampling the available goodies.

"None of those robes and veils for the women in here, Mistress."

Neither one of us were into the "hard stuff", but we were in the mood for a beverage, and found our way to a bar tucked on the back. It was a little hard to communicate with the bartender, but with some pointing and gesturing we settled for what seemed to be the house specialty -- Fermented Yak Curd Shots. You could take them plain, or garnished with some crumbled wild boar bacon on top. It seemed better with bacon to me. But to each their own.

With shot glasses in hand we decided to explore a bit. The juke box was playing some rustic local band's cover of "Smoke on the Water", that seemed a little off-key to me, but then it also seemed to please the customers lounging about in various states of consciousness.  Then, as we turned a corner to slide into a back room, we both did a double take.

"Shit.... it looks like the WC got lost on his way to the airstrip Mistress...."

"

Mistress Goes Shopping

I realized after yesterday's post went up that I forgot the photo of the local "welcome wagon" that came to serenade us here at Yurt side, before we had that unexpected visitor. They did a great version of "Stairway to Heaven" as an encore.

Now.... where were we.... Yes, we did have that unexpected visitor, who smelled a tad ripe after his evening in the Yak hut. He presented us with a number of what he described as urgent bills that he claimed that as his former employers we were responsible for it. But when I saw the $629 charge for the 50 gallon barrel of high end lubricant I had to draw the line. I mean,we're all tightening our belts these days, WC. Maybe try some Vaseline, or WD40 at Costco.

Ultimately, we settled on an arrangement where the WC can use certain trademarks and copyrights of our former vast media empire until some time that we might return from exile and reclaim them.  So keep an eye out for a knock-off version of UCTMW authored by someone who has trouble using spellcheck showing up on a computer screen near you soon.

Actually, if his wife B wants to require the WC to sign that contract of ours, she's welcome to it.  the WC might benefit from following my "No Touch" rule for a while. ANd think of all the money he'd save on lubricant!

After our negotiations were completed, WC was headed back to the local airstrip for his long trip home. God speed, big guy!

This morning, I'm off on my Yak to a nearby village to mediate a dispute about whether a local "doctor" screwed up when asked to turn a teenager into a eunuch for a tribal war lord's harem guard. Apparently they don't bother with cock cages in these parts.

But Mistress will be busy.  Our new "chef" Francois is coming over to accompany her to the local black market where she wants to acquire a new, lighter wait computer to use on her new job.  She offerred to meet him at the market, but apparently he wants to "show her a few things", before they head off.

If I'm lucky, she made get a few more lessons on pleasuring the male tool, which usually inure to my benefit.

We will keep you updated.

A Surprise Visitor

All that fresh mountain air, and possibly the seductive smell of the dried yak dung burning in our open fire, caught up with Slave last night, and I slept in a little later than planned. I need to head off soon to my new undercover job in the local "Court" system.

But before I let Mistress close up my cock cage and don my special barrister's costume, I wanted to share a few interesting developments. from yesterday.

First, while the locals may have a reputation for arbitrary violence, they can show an occasional welcoming sign. Last night, as we were feeding our post dinner scraps to the camels, we were surprised by the local "welcome wagon" who serenaded us with a bit of local music.

I wasn't sure what they were playing, but it was vaguely reminiscent of the old Allman Brothers' tune "Whipping Post", but with a more lugubrious beat.

Then just as we were tidying up and getting ready for some post-concert worship and sex, there was a "knock" on the Yurt flap.

"So, D's directions were right, I've found you...."

Both Simone and Sam did a double take... the voice was vaguely familiar, particularly to Mistress after all those sessions of over the phone sex... but, could it really be?

"Yeah, it's me, the WC."

Holy shit. After all those months of avoiding a personal encounter, he had finally overcome whatever hesitation he had to make a personal appearance.  And what an appearance. He was not exactly the guy we had envisioned, though, truth be told, most of the photos he had sent to Simone were of only a certain special occasion accessory, and not his full body.

You can imagine our surprise, then when this is the guy who pops through the Yurt flap.

Apparently he had taken Suzanne's suggestion to blend in with the locals a little more effectively.

But what was more interesting was what was on display below the waist.  It seemed that the WC was willing to conform to local custom and provide a little coverage for the SOC while on the road.

Very impressive, WC. And it's obvious you've been working out.

So what explains the WC's sudden in person appearance after all these years?  It had something to do with the fact that his prior employer had left him with an un-reimbursed Amex bill, due to a sudden and unexpected shutdown. And some bills for electrical work on the installation of a new hot tub at the former employer's western ski-in, ski-out  "office".

We decided to discuss the matter in the morning, since it was getting kind of late.  We found WC some sleeping room out in the Yak shed.  Let's hope they all got along well.

Settling In to a New Routine

Mistress and Slave are doing their best to settle into our new life here, while doing the things needed to stay in touch with our responsibilities back in the town from whence we came.

Think about it: "normal" people create Secret Identities as this adventurous D/s couple for a certain chessy sex blog..

Their Secret Identity characters develop "legendary" status in an alternative universe populated by like minded "pervs" (at least as seen from the former normal perspective). Friendships break out, evolve. Relationships develop, which move from cyber to very real. Both with and without foreskins.

Then, suddenly, the threat that the original secret identities might be blown, causes Mistress and Slave to seek protection through the SBPP by creating new secret identities for their fictional characters, then go on the Lam to parts unknown. (Or at least unusual).

It's not that we are hiding from our new friends in sex blog land. In fact, it's very nice to know that they care and are looking out for our well being.

On the other hand,  Suzanne over at All Mine and some of her somewhat skeptical commenters,  are seeing this as an opportunity for a little regime change. They are thinking that a certain pampered house Slave could use some toughening up. Will Simone suddenly discover that she's given Sam a little too much rope?

Time will tell.

In the meantime, yesterday involved some extra work day stress for Simone, who is starting an ew and challenging job this week. Let's hope the folks at her new office can tolerate a whole lot of telecommuting from What-the-Fuck-it-Stan.

Fortunately, as you can see from the photo above, D, our logistics specialist, has equipped us with a nice solar powered system to run all the high tech gear she has shipped in, and that our new chef and events planner, Francois has fine tuned for us.

AS for Sam, I've taken toe exploring the town, aspiring to a job in the local court system, primitive as it might be. And have no fear Suzanne, we are trying to blend in. Below is a photo of the local bar association, on a coffee break.  Can you tell me from the rest of my new colleagues?

And while the customs here are a little strange, you can still count on reliable brands when you need a little pick-me-up after a long morning in court arguing about clearing title to a local goat herd.

At the end of the day, when Mistress finally shut down her skype account, and Slave washed the blood off his hands (when you act as a local prosecutor here, you have to ask for then actually carry out the sentence), we settled into our bed, with the high mountain stars shining through that big damn hole at the center of our yurt's ceiling. We hunkered down under the yak fur blankets, and Slave did what he should have done before dinner: worship those clean shaven folds.

After Mistress seemed satisfied she reached for her cock, surprised to discover that even after a long day of work it was hard and ready for her.

"Mmmm.... I think I'll suck it for a while, Slave...."

"AS you wish, Mistress."

I settled back, enjoying her skillful attention.

"I forgot to ask Mistress, did our new chef ask you to work this sort of magic on that un-cut cock of his on Saturday...."

"He did Slave .... that seems to be  part of the ritual."

'Well, I can tell you're in good practice...."

By then Slave was begging for permission to fuck his Mistress.  Fortunately, she was in a generous mood.

Stocking Up

The SBPP is amazingly efficient, particularly with the supremely organized D in charge of logistics. we were woken Sunday morning with a knock on the yurt flat. Some locals had been dragooned into hauling several containers of important materials for use during our exile here as things cool down in River City.

The solar powered generators will be particularly helpful in getting Mistress's favorite power tool up and running. And the additional server and laptop, with the satellite dish for instant wifi connections, will allow Mistress to make sure our surly teen #2 gets those college applications in on time.

In fact, she woke us up earlier than expected, demanding to Skpe from her residence in Europe to talk about essays and what not. It definitely cut into our first switch day here in What-the-Hell-It-Stan.

After sorting through the loot shipped to us by D -- including at least a month's supply of Tequilla and Jamieson -Slave was off to take in a local sporting event.  While we have yet to get the full NFL satellite feed hooked up in the Yurt, I did get to watch a thrilling match between two local teams. Instead of tossing around a pigskin, the game revolved around bashing a head recently liberated from a goat, using sticks while mounted on horseback. 

There was even a replay official using some sort of micro camcorder. But if a coach asked for a review and the call was not overruled, instead of losing a timeout, he had to lop off an arm or leg from one of his team members.

For some reason the crowd really loved those replay situations.

Mistress and Slave have early wake up calls this morning.  So tune in tomorrow for our further adventures on the lam.

Mistress Enjoys Her Day in the Yurt

Our first day here in Whatever-it-Stan turned out to be more fulfilling for Mistress than one might have expected.

Of course, there were our typical morning rituals... I wrote then posted the blog using the satellite phone technology in a band-aid tin that D had provided us. Thank God I remembered to unpack it from the pouches strapped to my Camel.  Mistress had a few laughs as I worshiped and she read,  then I made sure she had a few cums too.

D had arranged for her to interview a prospective staff chef named Francois, an ex-pat who like us was  on the lam from some messing complications back in Paris.

"It's a Saturday, Slave... so I think I'll just wear this nightgown... do you think that's OK?"

It was a form fitting number in a purple velvet that barely covered her lush ass, which was peaking out as she arranged the pillows on the richly colored Persian carpet the fills the living area of our new mountain hideaway.

"What about underwear, Mistress?"

"You know I never wear underwear with a nightie, Slave...."

"I'm sure this Francois will be impressed."

I was then off to the market, a few miles over some low rising hills on a yak conveniently provided for such tasks by D our logistics co-ordinator.

As I was selecting some fruits and vegetables from local vendors, I received an unexpected text message... the number was unfamiliar.... hmmmm.... a shopping list from this Francois.

Apparently he must have met with Mistress's approval.

By mid-afternoon I finally steered my yak back to our Yurt, tucked away in this hidden valley.

As I pulled the tent flap open, the yurt interior lit by the afternoon sun filtering through it's canvas walls, I heard what sounded like muttering in a foreign language.... was that Swedish, or French.

There was Mistress, looking rather disheveled if I must say so, lounging on those pillows, as Francois muttered to her while simultaneously working on some computer equipment.  Then she acknowledged my arrival.

"Francois is quite well rounded, Slave.... not only does he cook, but he's setting up our network here properly, so we can finally back stuff up...."

"Excellent, Mistress...."

After I unpacked the groceries, and made Francois some coffee, lightened with some rather odd flavored goat milk that was in what passes for a fridge here, Francois bid us adieu, though I suspect we will be seeing him regularly in the weeks to come.

"So how did the interview go, Mistress..."

"Oh, I think he'll work out, Slave...."

"You mean as a chef?"

"I think that's just the tip of the iceberg."

Hmmm.... as Mistress and Slave adjourned to our bed chamber, I got more of the story.

"It was interesting.... at what minute he's working on the computer system... the next thing you know it's into this bed and well...."

"How many, Mistress?"

"I'd say three slave....he likes that reverse cowgirl position...."

"And did he make you beg, Mistress?"

"Of course, Slave.... that seems to be very important to him...."

Of course all this got me into a frisky mood too.

"Would you like some worship from your Slave now, Mistress...."

"Why not.... see if you can taste anything different..."

It seemed that I could.... though it might have been just the change in climate and all that proximity to the camels.

After Mistress had her fill of Slave's tongue and licks, she elected to ride my cock for a while, adding an additional cum or two to the day's prodigious total.

I think we can get used to roughing it for a while.