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...."

"