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Spanking, in truth.

I talk to a lot of people. I act out a lot of things. Occasionally, I’m In Search of the Lost Chord… much like The Moody Blues… especially when I’m asked things such as “Are you into spanking?” …my initial answer is always, “Ommmmm.” That sound, that spank… like Nights In White Satin, it does something to you and not just your ass. A spank can get into your head.


I’ll tell you a story. It’s the first thing that comes to mind when I think about a brisk, heavy swat to the rear. It’s a vision of me hovering over myself, watching myself… as a little girl, running full speed down the hallway to my room the very second I knew that I was about to get a spanking… and by running, I mean running. I would run so fast for the purpose of double panting myself before I bent over the bed as instructed. With two pairs of pants on and a tightly squeezed ass, it made the sting of the belt more bearable. I never enjoyed the pain. Being in trouble never gave me a rush. So, to answer the spanking question… no, I won’t be seeking out a spank specialist and I will be cranking up the album Songs About Jane.


However, I’m aware and will acknowledge that there were times I needed, and still probably could use a spanking… just to get my attention. In a lot of ways… I grew up, but in a lot of ways I didn’t… hanging on the expectation of “You’re always going to be daddy’s little girl forever, right?” ..but leaving behind those Baptist roots and exploring the world, I guess that would categorize me now as quite the “brat submissive” if we’re talking in BDSM terms. Collectively, as a consenting adult, I’m not just allowing anyone to give me an attention smack.


So, people want to know.. what it would take to earn the privilege of spanking Yetti’s behind, as she is such The Lusty Argonian Maid. I’ll ask you this: Can you keep up with my convoluted mind; be mea alpha et omega? Because, there’s nothing worse than a mindless domination. Get into my head. Seduce me. Give me a reason to admire and respect you; a reason to want to please you. Only then will I accept an emotionally charged slap of disapproval when I’ve done something… eh, bratty. Because, at my core… and in the bedroom, I enjoy the phrase “good girl” rather than any kind of derogatory name calling. If this addles your brain, move on.


So, I sit down at Schaefer Seafood and in walks in Victor Frankenstein, who’s been stalking me, or in his words… observing, the crop circle of my online presence for quite some time now. Apparently, he has only one wish: For me to be his alien Toy Story experiment and to say the words, "You have saved my life. I am eternally grateful." …but Must Get Out by Maroon5 comes on, and with the lyrics…



“I've been the needle and the thread;

weaving figure eights and circles round your head.

I try to laugh but cry instead;

patiently wait to hear the words you've never said.”



…playing on the speaker overhead, I’m out the door… soaking wet and terrified… just to go crank up the radio in my car and hear Hurricane by Kanye West playing…



“Finally free, found the God in me… and I want you to see, I can walk on water. Thousand miles from shore, I can float on the water. Father, hold me close, don't let me drown. I know you won't.”

…quite an earful, mind you. But you see, that’s my predicament… allowing you to “Hit me …Baby One More Time” for no good reason when I could ride you like a Mandalorian Mythosaur and become the lanternfly of your nightmares. These are my personality changes following the heart transplant. Oh, the dichotomy.

Malkovich Malkovich Malkovich Malkovich Malkovich

Besides, I thought you were into Emilee Flood… I’m not Emilee Flood or Rapture Blondie. I’m not Kristi Yamaguchi either.


My mind flashes back to Hurricane Delta, the Covid Delta variant, and now… now that I’m here, hit hard and infected after an initial swerve, here in the safeway with a text on my phone popping up from you.. with the code.. for access to the Delta Collection in the Library of Congress… I don’t know what in God’s name to do with it. I’m not who you want! WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME? #IAMYETTI …I’m a parasocial interaction that you should have an Oculus Quest 2 for. I’m not the love of your life. So, I suppose… spank me hard. Make it hurt. Get it out. Because, the woman you loved left you. Let me take your pain away. I’m not going anywhere. It’s “A Good Day to Die” for a Quantum Revelation in this Logic-Defying Double-Slit Experiment of a fucked up parallel universe.

One last question, do you know carnie folk or Coober Pedy?

1875, the year the talisman of the 9 universe representing “Mind”, “Body”, and “Soul” became up for grabs. I’m in Room 237, at golden angle 137, and sitting at the seventh power of two. Hurry Yheti, it burns. I want to see the Noetic Sunrise. You can go back with your venture capital things you call friends, your fizzy water co2 machines, and the smart mushrooms you picked from my yard. Take it slowly, this blog is dangerous!


Yetti or Yheti; the difference is “th” so is it a thought or is it Thoth? This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine… even with a red behind.

Xoxo, Yetti

Instagram & Twitter @brooyetti




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