Public Hair 2

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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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Public Hair – Chapter 2

A year had gone by since I, Lizzie Henderson, had started growing pubic hair. I was 12 years old now and still as embarrassed by my punishments as ever. During the past year, lots of people had learned that I had hit puberty, given that they had been present during one or several of my frequent spankings. Most mortifying of all was the fact that they all seemed compelled to comment on my rapidly growing patch of frontal fur!

"Wow, she's getting hairier by the week, isn't she?" said my 10-year-old cousin, Jimmy, as I stood bottomless in his living room, hands on my head, legs trembling with dread as I waited for my aunt to return and pull me across her lap for a sound spanking. She used the slipper that time, if memory serves. Auntie's spankings are always harsh and she has me howling for mercy in no time at all.

"Holy hairy Hendersons!" said Bobby, the 13-year-old son of one of mom's best friends, on a different occasion. He's always fancied himself a comedian, but I've never found him funny at all, even less so when he's mocking me. He came up with that particular line (which he'd use several more times in the future, immediately followed by his annoying laughter) during a memorable spanking I received when we were visiting them. I had been rude (as usual) during our visit, so mom decided that Bobby's mom should be the one to adjust my attitude by means of a proper spanking. After a long and bottomless scolding, I got it good and hard with the wooden spoon by mom's friend. She was awfully strong! Even through my bawling I could hear Bobby's mocking laughter all throughout my long spanking.

And well, I guess I can't really blame them for those mocking remarks, given that my bush was growing surprisingly fast (yeah, it could now be called an actual bush) and sure, it probably looked unusually large on a 12-year-old girl. Mom had forbidden me to shave it or even trim it, since she knew that I became embarrassed when people saw it and she has always claimed that embarrassment is an important part of my punishments. Even today, in my mid-twenties, she still spanks me from time to time if you can believe it, and she keeps finding new ways to humiliate me while doing so. So back then, I could do nothing but watch my bush grow and and grow and wonder when it would finally stop growing.

Frankie wondered the same thing, since he had been keeping up with his weekly measuring sessions every sunday, as per mom's request. Besides measuring my breasts, waist and hips (and fondle me at leisure in the process), he also measured the size of my bush (a rough estimate of its area; no wonder he was getting good grades at math), as well as the length of my pubes. Why did we need to keep track of this stuff was beyond me, other than for its humiliating effects. But mom was adamant about it and the one time that I suggested (by means of a temper tantrum) that Frankie should stop coming over to take my measurements resulted in a stupid spanking with the stupid hairbrush (with Frankie as witness, to boot).

Frankie always took his sweet, sweet time taking my measurements. And over time he started taking more liberties, too. Since he was our neighbor and sometimes did other chores for mom, he was often around in my house. He'd sometimes surprise me with a sharp smack across my butt, in whatever room of the house I happened to be in, and ask some stupid question, like, "Hiya, Lizzie! (*SMACK!*) How's that lovely forest of yours growing today?" And sometimes he'd ask me to show him my ‘forest’ right then and there, just for a 'quick check'. I had to clench my teeth, grumble and unzip my pants or lift my skirt on the spot, in order for him to pull on the waistband of my panties, peek inside and take a good look at my bush. Then he'd rub his chin and say something like, "Mmm-hmm. It looks like it's been growing again, but I guess we'll know for sure on sunday, won't we?"

Since he was also my classmate, this scene would also happen at secluded spots in our school: He'd just sneak behind me and whisper "quick-check time" in my ear, which meant that I had to follow him to some remote hallway or corner where we'd be alone, and there we'd go through the bush-peeking process that I mentioned.

And then it became worse: He started to NOT ask me to flash him, instead just sneaking behind me and slipping his hand right into my panties without even asking me first! Like, I'd be looking in the refrigerator or something, when I'd suddenly be surprised by foreign fingers slipping into my panties and wandering around my bush! And I had to just stand there looking at the ceiling in mortification as I waited until he was done 'checking my growth'.

Of course I protested loudly the very first time he did this, but as it happened with any protest regarding anything Frankie-related, mom swiftly pulled me across her knee for a harsh hairbrushing. She trusted Frankie unreservedly and she also knew just how misbehaved a daughter I was (and sure, I admit I was pretty misbehaved, but still). In her eyes, Frankie's new humiliating tactics were nothing more than an upgrade to my punishments, which was always an excellent thing in her book.

Frankie also started plucking out one of my pubes every time he checked them, explaining that he was working on a collection to remember me by. And, in his words: 'You're growing ten of these for each one I pluck out, anyway'. It stung every time he plucked me, but the embarrassment was way worse than the pain.

And just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, Frankie showed up one day with his 11-year-old male cousin and a male friend of his cousin, both of whom wanted to 'learn more about the female anatonomy because they had an anatonomy exam coming up'. That's right – anatonomy. The lying little idiots couldn't even spell it right. So, knowing that I could only expect an awful spanking from mom if I protested, I had to grit my teeth as I undressed and lay down across my bed for the little perverts to explore my body at leisure. And just to add injury to insult, a little after they were done, mom showed up with the hairbrush to spank me for something I had done that morning (I can't recall what it was, but it doesn't matter). When she saw that I was already naked with three young boys in my bedroom, she simply said that she was glad to see that I was already prepared for my spanking and asked the boys to stay and witness it. She sat on my bed, pulled me across her lap and treated the grinning boys to quite a show.

Next, I'll tell you about my (allegedly) best friends and how they helped make my hair even more public.

To be continued...

(The End)