HNT / Slave Takes Mistress Out to Dinner

Thankfully, Mistress was back home last yesterday afternoon.  I hate to be a whiner, but it was pretty lonely back at the Yurt last night without her. And, well, aftet a day in the cage and a full 36 hours with appropriate exercise for my work-a-day cock, Slave had gotten a little desperate.  So when Mistress suggested we head home from work a little early, who was I to object?

I was inclined to cut to the chase once her saddle bags were off the Yak and I got the fire going. But first things first - Mistress was desperate for a little exercise, so we took a spin around our little valley on those cross country skis that Donna had delivered to get the blood flowing.

By the time we got back, the Yurt had warmed sufficiently to allow us to comfortably strip away our cloths, and  I got to see Mistress in all her glory after my sad period of solitiude.

"Would you like me to worship, Mistress?"

"I thought you'd never ask, Slave."

Soon I was where I belonged.... on my knees, Mistress lying back on or bed, taking her time to build to a nice powerful starter cum.

"I'd like to suck my cock now, Slave...."

"It's all yours, Mistress."

Sh pushed me back in the bed, toying with it with those well manicured fingers.

"Of course it is...."

Soon she was sliding those lush lips up and down my shaft, making me squirm and ultimately beg to fuck her.

"What' s your hurry, Slave...."

"Uhhhh.... it's been almost 2 days, Mistress...."

"You're just spoiled, aren't you?"

So it seems. In any event, Mistress soon relented to my pathetic pleas, and I made sure she got a few dividend cums before taking my own pleasure.

Ahhhh.... good to have her back.

We'd thought of warming up some left over Yak chili we had made for NFL watching on Sunday, but I figured it was a special occasion to have her back, and suggested that instead we  head to a new restaurant that had opened about 1/2 a mile across the valley.The sign was well... adorable, so we had to check it out, didn't we?

So we bundled up and crunched across the frozen landscape to find an inviting spot with some interesting menu selections not for the faint of heart.  Check out this video for an interview with the chef.(I'll have the Yak penis)

Now I've mentioned on these posts all the wonderful uses that these great beasts of the Steppes can bring us. Their dried dung heats the Yurt. The bear us and all our stuff from place to place. and of course they can provide shared bodily warmth for guests like the WC.  But I had never actually considered dining on Yak cock at a classy restaurant, no matter how classy the presentation.  But it does make for a nice HNT!

Francois, if you ever open a restaurant, this could be an interesting draw, that could ignite a little Twitter Buzz.

Of course, having drawn a few readers with that HNT tease at the top of the electronic fold, it would be unfair if I didn't toss you a different sort of bone.... here's another outtake from our last Switch Day...   Enjoy!

From a Cold and Lonely Yurt

Mistress was away last night.

She had an important work assignment in what passes for the big city in these parts. Fortunately, she did not have to find her own way there, since the trails can be a little tricky, particularly at night. Her employer arranged for a special Yak Service to pick her up and deliver her to her desination.

And no, D. This is not Francois, although he does have a certain Continental bearing. Francois is a bit taller, and not as snappy a dresser. Though I can see him in that little chin beard.

Before she departed, Mistress had be stop by her office late yesterday afternoon to say goodbye. It's a big open plan sort of affair, with very little privacy. So you can imagine my frustration when I got to sit next to her on some thick blankets, sipping some green tea, her fingers gently stroking my receding hairline, but was unable to engage in any goodbye worship.  It was as if I failed in my prime directive.

Mistress was solicitous though.

"How's the cage Slave?"

"Hmmmm.... thanks for reminding me.... it's tighter now, Mistress."

I did make sure Mistress's Hitachi was backed away in her saddle bags, just in case she had a horniness emergency.

So I kissed her goodbye, shared some dinner with a cranky old lady in a local "comfort food" joint (try the YakLoaf and mashed tofu with gravy sometime of you get the chance), and headed back to the Yurt.

Although it's a cozy place, it seemed particularly cold there last night without Mistress to sidle up against under the furs.

Later, as I was drifting off, Mistress called me from her hotel.

"It's pretty nice here Slave.... I think I'm going to have a drink with some of the folks from my office...."

"sounds good Mistress ... I'm just going to sleep."

"But since you've been a good Slave, I'll let you take the cage off now."

Ahhh.   That was a relief, nothing worse than waking up in the middle of the night with a "cage emergency". (You know, the little fellow decides to take a stretch, only to bash into those implacable steel walls.)

Ouch. 

She told me where she had secreted the key, but reminded me that I was still on the honor system.

"Remember, no touching, Slave."

"Not a problem, Mistress....."

I may be pampered, but I am pretty well trained.

Fortunately, Mistress will be back in the Yurt this evening. So my training won't be tested too rigorously.

Dispatch from Our Director of Logistics

 D, our Logistics Director from the SBPP was kind enough to send this update on what's going on back in the homeland. I know you will share our satisfaction that it's not all work and no play. I know many of you have been curious about the oh so efficient D, so I thought I would toss in a photo of her at work on her old job before she was lured away by the SBPP with those higher American salary packages and benefits.

Dear Sam and Simone,

I hope all is well there in Where-there's-a-yak-there's-a-way-istan.

Thought I would catch you up on happenings here at the cabin. Bill is currently on his laptop reading his political blogs and listening to War by Edwin Starr at almost top volume. Can anyone hear that song and not sing along? War!...what is it good for?..absolutely nothing!...say it again...http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FxfjWUtzFBA&feature=related

Early this morning after I finished reading your post about your sexy adventures and Francois’ comment about aged meat being preferable, I thought, “This piece of aged meat is going to go jump the bones of my equally well-aged Dom!”  And so I did.

With meat on my mind, I crept down the hallway, slipped into our bedroom and slid between the covers. Bill was on his back, arms stretched out, in the perfect position for what I had in mind; and I immediately set to work. I slipped between his legs and getting up on hands and knees, leaned up as far as I could reach and kissed and licked my way down his sexy torso down to the land of Bill's Thrills.

I’m sure you won’t be terribly surprised to know that I teased him a bit. Holding his penis firmly in hand, I moved down to his balls and made giant sweeps of my tongue from under his balls to the tip of his penis, going from one ball to the other, slobbering just a tad while licking and sucking. By then Bill’s head (the one above his shoulders) was thrown back, his neck extended, and he was groaning deeply in his throat. My intention had been to suck up the tissue just under the head of his glans, but huge hands came up on each side of my head and fingers wove into my short hair, grabbing hold. I understood my role clearly and sucked his penis into my mouth as his hands moved my head to his desired speed and depth. 

Before long there was an explosion that surely registered on the Richter Scale.

I was flipped onto my back and the Hitachi deployed while Bill’s mouth worked over my nipples. Within a few minutes I heard someone yell out, and realized it was me. Never content for me to have only one orgasm, Bill grabbed a new toy that is somewhere between a switch and a cane but made of a different material that really stings. He ordered me to turn the Hitachi back on and hold it to my clit. I did while he proceeded to use the switch on my breasts. As soon as I came the second time he flipped me over and really switched my butt and the back of my legs.

After he finished and cuddled up to settle me and make sure I was in a good head space, he told me that he switched me more than usual because he wanted to make sure the endorphins were on high. We are boxing up our kitchen today for the remodel.  I think he made a good decision in getting the endorphins charging through my system and I think I made a good decision in creeping back to the bedroom.

I love it when a plan comes together!

I hope you guys have a good day skiing, making snow angels, and playing with the yaks.

Sending love and hugs from
your logistics specialist and friend,
D

The only thing I'm wondering is who these guys are --- the folks from A Team Construction who are doing your kitchen remodel?  If so, good luck with that. I'm not sure which fool to pity. 

Here in Yak-E-NutiI-Stan, it could be a long 24 hours for Slave. Mistress is actually off on a short business trip tonight, so I'm home alone in the Yurt. And Mistress is taking no chances.

"Make sure you put the cage on in the morning, Slave!"

I've already slid the ring on, smushing my cock and balls through it's tight aperture. So she gets the benefit of a particularly hard and desperate cock this morning before she's off.  I'm just wondering how many hours in the cage my work-a-day cock will have to endure.

The Tights Stay On....

Fortunately for her Slave, Mistress elected to leave those "special" tights on when she went to bed Saturday evening. So when we woke on Switch Day, well..... her Slave had no intention of letting her shed them then.

So after we read the Times and local Whats-it-Stan Daily Mirror a bit, it was time to attach Mistress to our bed, spreadeagled, using some soft cloth strips readily at hand. (D did a great job of supplying us for any eventuality).  We would not want to cause a run in those tights, after all.

With Mistress firmly affixed, it was time for a few photos, though our collective sense of modesty required me to find some colorful silk to cover the part that makes these tights so special.

And after the photo op.... well the silk made an excellent tool for tickling and taunting mistress s I let a corner dangle and slide gently back and forth across those legendary clean shaven folds. It made those hips jerk and her muscles strain to avoid to smooth caress of the silk.

A some point I thumbed on the power tool, a sound that Mistress always responds to.... and I used it to massage her thighs and even the soles of her feet before finally turning my attention to the parts that counted for this little exercise.

My this girl can squirm, pulling against the bonds at wrists and ankles, but unable to wrap her legs around the source of all that pleasure.

I made sure that Mistress knew the protocol ....

"Can I come now Slave...."

Her voice was almost a whisper, so desperate had she become oh so quickly.

"Not quite yet, Mistress...."

I took a little pressure off, sliding the hitachi away and down her thigh just a tad.

Her mewl of frustration was priceless.

"That's so mean, Slave....."

But I do have a heart. And within seconds I was paying attention to her fragrant folds yet again.  This time when she begged for release, I generously granted it.

And from there it took her nearly a minute to build to one of those rolling thunder sort of cums that left her sobbing, tears trickling from her eyes .... the kind her Slave feels quite proud of when they occur.

Of course, I didn't simply take my satisfaction from that particularly memorable cum.... not I was a bit greedier than that.

Ancient and Not So Ancient Rituals

It was a cold Saturday morning after a busy work week here in Frigid-It-Is-Stan. And there was nothing Mistress and her Slave would have preferred to do more than stay huddled under the  furs through the morning after our wake-up sex.

But Mistress had accepted a gracious invitation from one of our new neighbors to attend a "coming of age" ritual for her son at a local Temple.... So we were soon saddling up the yaks, dressed in our "go to meeting" clothes and heading to this rather exotic ceremony.

Now I'm one of those old Catholic guys. Our idea of a religious service is hushed silence (lest the nuns whack you up side the head), mumbling through a few rote prayers, and (most importantly) getting it all done in 45 minutes so  one can move on with their day and the parking lot can get cleared for the afternoon's bingo.

But there is another approach, as I learned  yesterday: a long meandering service, with folks in the congregation, or even up in the sanctuary, carrying on their own conversations (maybe about their tee times?), walking about to greet their long lost pals, or maybe stepping out into the hallway to check their email as the "priest" mumbles and chants to himself. 

Then there were the folks who kept arriving deep into the ceremony, even as the young man who was the center of attention had already begun his readings from the sacred texts. A crowd that seemed to be about 60 when the service began at 9:30 or so seemed to have swelled to 300 or more by the time the bar opened at noon for fermented yak curd cocktails and a generous spread of local delicacies prepared according to strict dietary rules.

"I think a lot of these folks just came for the lunch, Mistress."

"You may be right, Slave."
 

I must say that Mistress was impressed by the costumes that the men wore to the service, which left very little to the imagination.

I pointed out two of them to her.  "They look a little like the WC and his brother, don't you think, Mistress?"

But what had me distracted through most of the ceremony was my knowledge of what Mistress was wearing beneath her demure frock.

She had spent some time that morning looking for the peek-a-boo tights that D, the SBPP had included in our provisions. 

"Ahh.... here they are Slave..... won't it give you a thrill to know my parts are there available to you under my dress.."

Well, yes.... it did. It made me want to reach underneath at a discrete moment. and I could swear I could sense the aroma of her fragrant clean shaven folds through the ceremony. Was it just me? or were those guys in the male thongs and prayer shawls distracted too?

After lunch the well fed and liquored up crowd adjourned outside for some manly displays of prowess, presumably to show that reading from fancy scrolls is just part of the job.  But by then Slave was getting a little impatient to partake of Mistress's barely hidden fruits.  (Plus my alma mater was going to be on the satellite, hoping to regain some lost pride from their disgrace last Saturday).

So we slipped away, hoping that our hostess would not notice our early departure.

Back at our humble yurt, Mistress napped a bit as her Slave watched the football game. It was actually a perfect way to spend a Saturday afternoon.  and afterwards.... well, Slave made sure to worship Mistress with those tights in place, and was given permission to fuck her long and hard through that clever opening, the texture of the fabric doing a stimulative little number against my balls.

She does know how to press my fetishy little buttons, doesn't she?

A Quiet Friday at Home in the Yurt.

It was a particularly cold day today here in Wak-E-Nut-Stan. I thought I might get frost bite just saddling the Yaks. and when that cock cage steel gets cold, well....just don't try touching your tongue to it.

it would have been a good day to just stay at home, huddled under some furs, until the smoldering dried yak dung fire warmed us to a suitable temperature.

Unfortunately, Both of us had work to do in the Village, and though we were able to meet for lunch, Mistress's new "office" (it's more like a bazaar with a very open floor plan) does not accomodate the sort of personal attention she has become used to from her Slave as a little post meal apertif.

By the time we made it back to the Yurt, we were in the mood for a little exercise -- so there as a spin around our valley on those cross country skis D had so kindly delivered, and  then it was back for a long leisurely Friday night. 

The type of Friday night that was rarely possible with the sullen teens to feed and tend to.  We stripped off out work-out clothes and slid under the pelts on our rustic bed, the fire glowing in the hearth.

Dinner could wait.

Mistress always comes first, and I spent some time delving into those clean shaven folds, plying them with my eager tongue and lips.  Yes, Aisha, it was a bit like that photo you posted the other day. Though that guy does not have the useful love handles that Slave has grown over the years.

When Mistress moaned her way to a nice little starter cum, she was anxious to do a little feeding too.

"I want to suck my cock, Slave...."

Who would deny her?

Soon it was Slave doing the moaning, and begging for the privilege to fuck her.  But Mistress was determined to remain in charge.

"I think I'll ride it a bit, Slave...."

And ride she did.

But here's the interesting part.  recently Mistress has been doing most of her cock riding with our chef, IT specialist  Francois. He's been working on a certain training regime with her. Cowgirl. Reverse cowgirl, etc.

all that riding it seems to have had an interesting effect.  No sooner had Mistress mounted her work-a-day cock than she seemed to start cuming.... and cuming..... and cuming..... It was quite impressive.  If I had to guess, Mistress had 4 orgasms in a span of 5 minutes, until the poor dear could take it no more, rolling off me and requiring her Slave to finish things off on top.

Francois, what ever you're doing seems to be working here. 

Even the SBPP Has It's Limits

We were not quite prepared for the deep snow that surprised us here Thursday morning. Luckily, D arranged for the SBPP transportation unit to airdrop some additional supplies, so we both now have some skis available to traverse the pass and head into town. The extra gloves and insulated pants were a nice touch too. 


Meanwhile, as you can tell from WC's lengthy comment yesterday, his power is still out back in the Rockies. Poor B is left to take what satisfaction she can from his SOC, without power for her Hitachi.  Sounds like they could use the solar array we've come to rely on out here in the wild.  Even worse....kids without internet or video games. No wonder WC took the opportunity to head to his office where he could stay in touch with the sex blogs.


But apparently there are some limits on the largesse of the SBPP, as D explained in her note yesterday:


Dear Sam,

What a beautiful place we have created for you and Simone.
That being said, there are some limitations to what we can do there.

Your request for a hot tub was denied by the home office.

While it looks and sounds appealing, it requires a great deal of muscle to move all the accumulated snow and ice off the top of a hot tub in the climate where you are, and without the WC on the premises to do the shoveling, it was decided those funds could be better spent. 
If you are absolutely convinced you want a hot tub, the suggestion was made that you borrow the "Party King Chili Cooker" that Francois ordered for your January Superbowl party. Fill it with water, crank it up and you have a hot tub for two. 

The other suggestion was that you use one of the wine casks left over from Francois' latest visit to see Mistress Simone, cut it in half, attach a heating element and enjoy.

While I try to be helpful, management seems firm on this one.

D.

Actually both of those suggestions sound pretty appealing D. We really don't mind roughing it! Now I better head back to bed, to make sure Mistress gets her first orgasm of the day before its time to milk the yaks. Francois is stopping over to whip up some sort of confection and  the recipe require whipped yak cream.