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

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.