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."
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...."
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.