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

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."