Let George Do It

Let George Do It 2

By Red Rover and Rick1463

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This work is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It may contain depictions of sexual activity involving minors. If you are not of a legal age in your locality to view such material or if such material does not appeal to you, do not read further, and do not save this story.
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Part 2

“PUBIC HAIR????” I shrieked. “He collects girls’ pubic hair? You’ve got to be shitting me, That’s SICK, perverted, weird, Oh my fucking God.”

“Keep your voice down,” Angie said quickly. “Somebody might hear us.”

“I-I-I-I just don’t believe that,” I whispered. “How can he get away with that?”

“Actually, there are few other boys that do the same thing,” Bobbi responded in a normal voice. “And you don’t have to whisper. Just don’t yell.”

“When they spank a girl, they will cut off a little bit of hair and put it in a little plastic envelope,” Angie explained. “They carry a little case like a sewing kit that has scissors and baggies. Usually about an inch of hair and a dozen or so strands each. They can’t take too much at once, because it takes time for it to grow back.”

“That’s why we can’t shave our pussies,” Bobbi said. “It doesn’t happen that often, but they want it to be there if they decide to take a souvenir.”

(OMG – I may SWIM to Africa)

“OK, so what do they do with the hair?” I didn’t really want to know, but it seemed like the logical thing to ask. “Paste it in albums like stamps?”

Angie laughed. “I wish they did! But it’s weirder than that. They glue it onto little strips of flesh-colored plastic and make it into fake mustaches and beards. Then they wear the fakes at parties. Fortunately, they don’t let them wear them in school.”

“So, you can go to a party and a boy is wearing your pubic hair on his lip? And all the other kids at the party know that it’s your hair?” My head was swirling.

“Well sometimes it’s more than one boy with your hair, and maybe he has hair from a bunch of girls, but, yeah. Everybody at the party knows he is wearing girls’ pubes for a mustache or beard. And you have a good idea of whose hair a boy is wearing.” Angie sighed. “We try not to think about it, but it’s there.”

Bobbi thought of something. “DeeDee, are your pubes red, like your head hair?”

“Yes,” I said cautiously. “Why?”

“Well, the boys usually sort the hairs by color. Dark hair goes together, blonde hair goes together and red hair with other red hair. George has two mustaches, one dark, one blonde, but he’ll probably start a new one with your red hair.”

(Wonderful – now everybody in town will know it’s MY pubic hair on George’s lip)

“So, I’ll be the only girl in school with red hair?”

Angie thought for a moment. “No there are 3-4 other girls with red hair, but I don’t think George spanks them very often, if at all. None of them are in his class.”

“So how do you know if a boy is a Mentor or not, if he’s not your brother or neighbor?” I asked.

“There is a badge they wear,” Angie explained. “It is diamond shaped, gold colored with a bib “M” on it in black. It can be worn as a pin or on a necklace. Rich boys have solid gold badges, but most of them are just gold plated.”

“Mentors wear their badges to school and around the town, not usually at home,” Bobbi added.

“So that means that a boy who isn’t wearing a badge can’t spank me?”

“Usually not,” Bobbi said. “But in the school or at home, teachers and parents can ask a boy to spank you, whether or not he has a badge. But, most often the boy will be a Mentor or brother.”

“The real power the Mentors have is that they can spank you anytime they want, without getting permission from an adult. It’s their judgement,” Angie added.

“OK, now I am walking down the street and getting grabbed by some boy with a gold badge who bares my bottom and spanks me at random?” I asked fearfully.

The girls could see my expression and Angie hastily added, “But Mentors seldom just go ahead and spank some random girl for grins. That would get them in trouble and they could lose their badges. They have to have a reason to do it.”

“So what percentage of boys are Mentors?”

Bobbi thought about it. “Maybe one in five, depending on age. Very few 12-year-olds, maybe a third of 18-year-olds. The selection process is tough, the boy has to be mature and smart.”

At that point, George entered the room (without knocking, I noticed) and dumped some clothes on the bed. “It’s going to be a bare-bottom night, girls. The Dunbars are coming over. Show DeeDee what to do. They’ll be here in about 15 minutes.”

(“Dunbars?” “Bare bottom night?” That doesn’t sound good.)

George noticed my expression and patted my bottom. “Don’t worry, little girl. Our parents will be home.”

As he left, Angie was quick to reassure me. “It’s OK, DeeDee. The Dunbars are very close friends of Mom and Dad. They live about six blocks away and they are like extra parents to us. In fact, the boys babysit us when our folks are away.”

“But you guys are 17 and 14, you shouldn’t need babysitters. You should BE babysitters for younger kids,” I protested.

Angie laughed. “That’s not the way it works around here. George takes care of us when Mom and Dad are out of the house. But if he has something to do, one of the Dunbar boys will come over to mind us.”

“So how old are the Dunbar boys?” I asked.

“Well, Trevor is 17, a couple months younger than me,” Angie replied. “Dylan is 15 and Scott is 14, a month older than Bobbi.”

“And they are Mentors?”

“Trevor and Scott are,” Bobbi responded. “Dylan never applied to be a Mentor. He just isn’t into spanking girls. In fact, I don’t think he’s into girls much at all.”

“So, he’s gay?”

“I don’t get that impression either,” Angie said. “I think he’s just not into sex or that sort of stuff. But don’t get me wrong, he’s no softie. He’s had me howling over his lap a number of times. I think he spanks harder than Trevor. He plays tennis and has a very powerful forearm, especially when he applies it some little girl’s backside.”

Bobbi giggled, “He spanks hard, but he’s not as enthusiastic about it as Trevor is, especially when it’s Angie’s bottom over his knee.”

Angie shucked a pillow at Bobbi, but grinned. “Well, little sister, I’ve heard some world-class bawling when Scott has you over HIS lap.”

“True enough. DeeDee you better be a very well behaved little girl when any of the Dunbar boys are around.”

I shuddered. “So, are they going to spank us tonight?”

“Probably just a social spanking,” Angie said. “nothing serious unless somebody misbehaves.”

“Social spanking? How many kinds of spankings are here?” (I had a sinking feeling that I was not going to like the answer.)

“Oh, several,” Bobbi piped up. “It can range from a swat over clothes to a bare-bottom hairbrushing, depending on the mood of the spanker.”

“Well there are basically four types,” Angie explained. “The warning spanking which is done over clothes or on panties, usually in public when a girl is acting up and needs a reminder to behave. Then there is the social spanking where the boy takes the girl over his lap and gives her a hand spanking, usually on the bare. It doesn’t hurt much but it gives you a good tingle for a while.”

Bobbi giggled again. “Angie LOVES the tingles she gets, especially from Trevor. He does more feeling than spanking, and she wriggles around like a cat in heat. He usually puts a towel over his lap, so she doesn’t get his pants wet.”

Angie blushed red and snapped. “No more so than you do with Scott, little brat.”

“OK, guys, I get it.” I said soothingly. “Now what are the other kinds of spankings?”

Angie glared at Bobbi, “Next up are the maintenance spankings. Some Mentors schedule them on a regular basis, others do them as needed. It’s usually when a girl has been bratty for a while but hasn’t done anything serious. These can be with the hand, paddle, ruler or wooden spoon, depending on the Mentor’s preference. I think Bobbi meds a good maintenance spanking tonight.”

Bobbi stuck out her tongue. “What Angie needs is a good punishment spanking.”

Angie shuddered. “NOBODY wants a punishment spanking. Those are always bare bottom, with a hairbrush or heavy paddle, sometimes with a few from the strap. You’ll feel that every time you sit down for several days. The last time I got one from Trevor, I had to stand up in class the next day and get an excuse from gym. Not to mention the teasing from the other kids at school.”

Bobbi sighed. “You were lucky compared to Brandy Simmons. Last year, she got a full punishment spanking in class from her brother Michael. She was howling so loud that kids from other classes came in to see what was going on.”

(Wonderful, that’s what I have to look forward to. Twenty or thirty kids my age watching me get my bare bottom blistered, probably bawling like a three-year-old. Hope they don’t allow video phones.)

Angie picked up the pile of clothing. “Better get these on now, George will be up in a few minutes to get us. He’d better not catch us dawdling around or we will be going into the family room with red bottoms.”

She passed one of the shirts to me and another to Bobbi. All three were pale pink in color and adorned with Disney characters. Great – just what the normal seven-year-old wears to bed. Mine said “DEE DEE” across the back and the others were labeled “ANGIE” and “BOBBI.”

“OK, everybody, get undressed and put these on,” Angie said. “You must be completely nude underneath except for your socks.”

When I got naked and pulled the shirt on, I noticed that it just barely reached to my pussy in the front and left my entire bare bottom exposed in the back. I was about to object, but saw that Angie’s and Bobbi’s were cut the same way and realized that it was deliberate.

“So, everybody gets a good look at our bare bottoms,” I half-whined.

“You got it,” Angie said. “The grown-ups and the boys think bare bottoms are ‘cute.’ They’ve all got us pegged as perpetual six-year-olds. You get used to it after a while.”

Bobbi nodded, “The bad part is that you start thinking and acting like a six-year-old after a while and that just reinforces it.”

At that point, George came back into the room, holding a box of baby wipes. “Ah, my three cute little girls are ready to meet company. Just one last minute check. You first Angie.”

As I stood in disbelief, Angie bent over, spread her legs and held her bottom cheeks open for her younger brother’s inspection. I must have gasped because George looked at me and smiled. “Little girls don’t always keep themselves clean, so we have to make sure they are presentable.”

With that, he took out a baby wiped and wiped it carefully up and down Angie’s butt crack. He checked the wipe cloths, smiled and tossed it into a wastebasket Bobbi was holding. “Good girl, Angie,” he smiled and gave her a little smack on the bottom.

“Now you, Bobbi.” The process was repeated.

“And last, but not least, DeeDee.” I am quite sure I was blushing from head to toe as the boy swabbed the wet wipe across my most sensitive parts. He paused and said, in a slightly reproving tone, “We’re going to have to work on this, little one.”

I was mortified. Nobody had inspected my bottom that way since I was in kindergarten, let alone made a disapproving remark. George took another wipe cloth and scrubbed my bottom crack more thoroughly, including inserting his finger into my anal sphincter and rubbing around a bit there as well. Finally, he took a third wipe and made a final pass over my most private areas before smacking my bottom and letting me up.

I know there were tears in my eyes after this most thorough humiliation. But George cupped my chin in his hands and wiped away the tears with a tissue that Angie handed him. “I’m sorry, little one, I know you’re not used to this. But I’ll try to make it as easy as possible for you, OK?”

I couldn’t speak, but could only nod. George kissed me on the forehead and released my chin. “That’s my good little girl. Now let’s go down and meet our guests, OK?”

End of Part 2

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