New Yurt State of Mind

It's been a harrowing few days of travel for Simone and Sam.
D and B, our handlers from the SBPP (Sex Bloggers Protection Program) were amazingly efficient once we got the word to them about our plight. A dark van with blacked out windows picked us up on a corner late one night, not far from the upscale corporate offices we had to leave behind.  The driver never said a word to us as we sat silently in the back, watching the lights of River City fade behind us. Within hours we found ourselves at a cabin on a mountainside, at the end of a long dirt road.

D and B were there, waiting for us on the porch, only a single candle lighting the scene. They invited us in,  poured Mistress a short Tequilla, and handed her Slave a Jamison on the rocks.  Clearly, they had done their homework. Then they showed us to a simple but well appointed room.  There were even ropes at the corners of the bed, in case Mistress wanted to get frisky.

The next morning, we met and discussed the plans they had made for us.

"Just put your self in our hands", D assured. Though the look in B's eye as Simone stripped away her City clothes and donned the simple travel khakis that B had assembled for her made me think he had something more than metaphor in mind. I'm thinking, "She couldn't have just stepped back into the bed room to change, could she?"

D, who's specialty seems to be logistics and documentation had already assembled alternative passports for us. Photos were taken and inserted. Very slick.  We were now Simone and Sam .... it's as if our past had been washed away, sort of like when there was suddenly that new "Darrin" on Bewitched.

B is clearly a bit more of the paranoid type, into exotic self-defense techniques, and weaponry. He had assembled a veritable arsenal for us to choose from, laid out on the deck at the rear of their  cabin. But I thought it would be better to travel light, so passed on the shoulder mounted heat seeking missile and coffee maker combo.

"I really think this Swiss Army knife will do."

Bill snorted in derision.

Soon we were off on the first leg of the journey that D had arranged for us. There was a copter to a hidden airport, then a long overnight flight in a posh private jet.We woke the next morning as the jet was landing at some dusty primitive airport, with mountains in the near distance.

"This place doesn't seem to have either Hertz or Budget, Mistress."

No, the choices were limited to one hump or two.

Quite frankly, I had never ridden a camel before, and after a few hours, well, I wish I had begged Mistress to let me take a pass on the cock cage while in transit.  Youch.  That lumpy hump grinding against the steel gripping my cock and balls made me wonder if Mistress actually wanted a eunuch on staff to serenade her to sleep at night.  But I tried to suffer in silence.

After a night at a desert oasis, where Slave made sure to worship Mistress after the dromidaries were watered,  we finally made it to our new, if temporary home.

Transitional housing with a nice view.  And no corners to  dust.  Not so bad.

And after our guide helped us off load our simple belongings from the camels, and we stepping inside, we were amazed by the cushy interiors. Humble packaging with something rather lush inside. It made us wonder if George Soros was secretly funding the SBPP.  I mean check out the kitchen:

And this bed should be very nice on Switch Day, or if Mistress, with her newly discovered taste for orgies, wants to invite over some neighbors from the village on the other side of the mountain. Wouldn;t they have to spend the night after we slaughter and eat a goat or two?

Incredibly, the Yurt also comes with staff.  This young woman helped Mistress shed those dusty travel clothes and bathe in an outdoor hot tub, heated by burning dried camel and yak dung she had been gathering before our arrival. We loved the way she giggled and blushed when Mistress's clean shaven folds were exposed. and she seemed to relish sliding her soapy hands between Mistress firm and strong thighs to make sure she was clean as a whistle.

The next day we woke rested and ready to explore our new surroundings.

Of course, I was up first, and made sure to do an entry on the new blog we had opened. While we had planned to walk a way for a while, we found that, well .... something was missing.

"Morning worship and sex just didn't seem right without a blog to read, Slave."

"You're right, Mistress.... it has become our morning foreplay.... plus we'd miss all those friends if we just disappeared.

Today will be a day of getting reoriented to our new, if temporary home.  I'm taking one of the camels into town to visit the local market. after that, B has arranged for some self-defense training.

"You just can't call the local cops where you guys will be living", he growled, apparently amused by this Slave's rather citified sensibility. I guess it can't hurt to get a little exercise and learn how to fend off any marauding barbarians who might come knocking on our yurt flap late at night.

And Mistress.... well she has plans too. After I leave, she's arranged to interview some French Ex-Pat who D had lined up to serve as a combination "Chef" and "Event Planner" while we are on the lam.  I mean, we don't want Mistress to get bored, do we?

"It may still take a village, Slave..."

"No doubt, Mistress."