Justice for Justin

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“I know. I couldn’t believe it either. The kid has no respect for anyone. Jim told him specifically, ‘No visitors without adult supervision.’ So what does he do? The little shit. Guess he thought as long as dad wasn’t around he was going to have his run of the place. But now we’ll see who he thinks is in charge.”

Debbie Delaney had only been a Delaney for two months. She had met her husband, Jim, at a Corps of Engineers seminar in Atlanta a little over a year earlier. Still in the army at the time, Debbie had been impressed with Jim from the very beginning. He was a tall, muscular, handsome, “take-charge” kind of guy—a real “man’s man.” Jim was considerably older than Debbie (37 she later found out), and had a homespun, country wisdom about him that brought back vague memories of her own father before he had passed away when she was a little girl.

Initially, they had bumped into one another at a luncheon the first day of the seminar. Debbie’s commanding officer had known Jim from their days together in the service and had made the first introduction. Immediately they hit it off. Jim was one of the featured speakers on flood control. At first, he talked a little shop (he had been working in St. Louis during the big flood of ’92). Debbie offered her own vignettes of army life and told him about her aspirations to get into civil engineering. Before long, they were chatting up a storm on a multitude of issues—like two old friends reunited for the first time in years.

Over the next few months, Jim and Debbie talked periodically on the phone and over the internet. There was an obvious bond that had formed between the two. So Debbie was naturally thrilled when Jim had told her he was moving to Atlanta to take a job in the private sector. Her army obligation was up in less than a month, and she was planning on starting school in Atlanta in the fall.

Just as Debbie had experienced the death of her father, Jim had gone through a similar personal loss in his life. Ten years earlier, his wife had died of cancer. So it had just been Jim and his son Justin for the majority of the boy’s life.

Debbie and Justin hit it off pretty well. He was a cute, brown-haired 16-year-old with a mischievous twinkle in his pretty blue eyes. Justin was into typical teenage boy things: girls, sports, and getting into trouble. Nothing terribly serious—just your average “sneak out at night, cut an occasional class” kind of stuff. Jim was a strict disciplinarian with his son. Debbie knew that Justin’s occasional behavioral lapses usually earned him a session with his dad’s belt. Debbie wholeheartedly agreed with Jim’s philosophy on child-rearing. Because of the death of her father and the subsequent departure of her mother into the workforce, Debbie, herself, had practically raised her three younger brothers single-handedly. None had been a stranger to the taste of the leather on their bare backsides from the razor strap Debbie had salvaged from a drawer containing some of her father’s belongings.

Around Jim, Justin was a courteous, respectful boy. “Yes sir, no sir” were the typical replies to his father. But with Debbie, Justin felt more at ease to be himself. He dropped his “polite” act and spoke candidly, frequently using profanity-laced narratives. Debbie didn’t mind. After all, she had been in the army, and so was no stranger to the way young guys communicated. And, at 23, she was only seven years older than Justin…certainly more of a peer, in Justin’s eyes, than an authority figure.

Jim and Debbie dated for a while, and eventually, Jim popped the big question. The courtship had gone pretty quick, but it seemed considerably longer as they both felt they had known the other for their entire lives. Debbie accepted, and soon, moved in with Jim and Justin. Jim would have to travel frequently with his new job, so it was Debbie who would be looking after Justin while he was away. Debbie was used to the responsibility as a result of her “motherly” role with her brothers. Although they were older now and pretty much looked after themselves while their mom worked, Debbie, and her razor strap, would still occasionally pay them a visit when she would hear stories of their misbehavior from her concerned but docile mom.

So it was on the Jim’s very first business trip after the marriage that the new nature of the relationship between Debbie and Justin would be cemented…

 

“She’s a bitch. Fuckin’ ho. She comes in here thinkin’ she tell me my shit? Fuck her. What? No. Who said that? If that bitch laid one hand on me I’d beat the crap out of her. Fuckin’-A. All that army crap wouldn’t do her shit for good. Huh? No fuckin’ way. Gina is a fuckin’ liar. That bitch. Who else has she told? Fuckin’ great. She and that ho Andi are tellin’ everyone I got my ass whupped by Debbie? Fuckin’ lyin’ bitches!”

Justin Delaney had been initially receptive to his father’s relationship with Debbie. It meant he wouldn’t be around the house as much, which equated to more freedom for Justin. He had met a lot of friends at his new school and took full advantage of his newfound liberation. He went out on school nights, attended parties on weekends, stayed out too late, occasionally got drunk, and, overall, generally fell in with a wild crowd.

Plus, Debbie seemed pretty cool to Justin. At 23, she was more of a big sister than any sort of a step-mom. She cursed, she was into new music, and she didn’t seem intent to impose on Justin’s new lifestyle. In fact, Justin had begun to develop a crush on his father’s new wife. She was an attractive, sexy red-head an inch or two shorter than Justin at 5’7″ with firm, almost perky breasts and a voluptuous ass. She was inclined to wear tight, well-worn, hip-hugging jeans or—Justin’s personal favorite—Daisy Dukes which appeared to be almost painted on. The delicate curvature of her bottom cheeks in the cut-offs had compelled Justin to satisfy his blossoming boyhood on more than one occasion.

Even in the couple of months that followed the marriage, the relationship between Debbie and Justin rarely faltered. Sure, there were occasional requests to clean up a particular mess or to consider going to bed because it was getting late. But, all in all, things went fairly smoothly…

Until dad’s first trip…

The evening before Jim was to leave, he gathered his wife and son in the living room to go over some basic ground rules. He would be gone for two weeks, so he left Debbie with several hundred dollars and a credit card. Jim went on to define the chain of command that would exist during his absence. Debbie, he emphasized, would be in charge. Justin rolled his eyes a bit at the attack on his sovereignty, but didn’t initially seem too concerned. The reminders about curfew and behavior seemed to go in one ear and out the other. Even the stern warning about, “no guests in the house without Debbie being around,” went largely unnoticed. But a bomb-shell was about to be dropped.

“As long as I’m gone,” Jim proclaimed, “Debbie has the right to deal with disciplinary issues as she sees fit. And if that means a good, old-fashioned, pants-down butt-whipping—since that’s the only thing you seem to respond to, Justin—then that’s what you’re going to get.”

Justin’s eyes got as wide as silver dollars at the news. He glanced over at Debbie. For the first time, she looked very parental to Justin. Only an extremely subtle, wry grin on the edge of her lips didn’t match with the authoritarian demeanor. But it was this seeming pleasure at the news, albeit slight, that tormented Justin to no end. He glanced back up at his father, but the harsh, determined look on his face told Justin that there would be no argument that would convince his father otherwise. Still, in an almost obligatory gesture, Justin would try.

“But dad, I’m…I’m 16. I’m too old to get a—

“16 going on six,” Jim interrupted. “I’ve always said if you’re going to act like a child y
ou
‘re going to be treated like a child. You think I don’t know what you’ve been up to since we moved. Do you? Well some things are going to change around here starting now.”

“But Debbie’s not my mom—”

“No. But she’s your step-mom. And as your step-mom she has the right to punish you just as a real mom would. Debbie and I have talked about this and she agrees that you’ve been getting a little big for your britches lately. So she offered to help out with the discipline. And if you don’t think she’s serious, I’ll have you know she practically raised her three brothers and is more than capable of taking a wild, teenage boy down a peg or two. Isn’t that right, Debbie?”

Debbie nods, her wry grin getting more pronounced, much to Justin’s dismay.

“So be on your best behavior, listen to Debbie and do what she says, and you won’t have to worry about it. Understand?”

“Yes sir.”

But, of course, the warnings were quickly forgotten by the scatter-brained teenage boy. Justin rationalized that it was just a lot of talk designed to scare him into submission. After all, there was no way Debbie was going to tell HIM what to do. While his dad was gone, he was the man of the house. And no man would ever take orders from a woman, much less submit to a childish punishment like a whipping.

So, Justin dismissed the whole affair and immediately set out to plan his first adventure. Their second night together would be his target date. He knew Debbie took college classes on Thursday night. She had mentioned something about going out with her friend Julie after class. Justin had been lusting after Gina, an attractive, outgoing girl he had met at a few parties that went to his new school. He had been looking for an opportunity to get Gina in a situation where they could be alone and he could make his move. Without Debbie in the picture Thursday night, and the house to himself, this was the chance he had been waiting for.

He called Gina Thursday morning and struck up an hour-long conversation that culminated in an invitation for Gina to come over and “watch movies or something” Thursday night. From her late-night partying habits, Justin knew Gina’s parents weren’t at all strict and let her do as she pleased. Gina seemed receptive to the idea, but informed Justin that she had already told her friend, Andi, that she would accompany her to the mall that evening. Dejected, Justin started to wrap up the conversation until Gina suggested that watching movies would probably be more fun than the mall (she could do that anytime), and that she would love to come if Andi could come to. It wasn’t exactly what Justin had in mind, but it was better than nothing, so he agreed. The date was set.

Thursday night at 7:30, about an hour after Debbie had left for her class, Gina and Andi showed up at the Delaney’s doorstep. Both were looking good, but it was Gina that sparked Justin’s interest. She was short, but stacked in all the right places. For an undersexed teenage boy, she was a site to behold. Justin invited them in and the girls migrated to the family room and grabbed a seat on the couch. Feeling his oates as the “man” of the house, Justin boldly asked the girls what they wanted to drink. “Beer? Cocktail?” The girls opted for the beer. Justin returned with the beverages, popped in a DVD, and grabbed a seat between Gina and Andi, leaning noticeably in Gina’s direction.

A couple of hours had gone by and the mess was starting to mount. There were eight empty beer cans on the table and an ashtray filled with cigarette butts. Thus far, Andi’s presence had made any overtures to Gina impossible. But Justin was starting to feel the three beers and was intent on being more aggressive. Slowly, almost methodically, he stretched his left arm and wrapped it around Gina’s shoulders. Gina, also feeling a slight buzz, glanced longingly over at Justin and made eye contact. Caught up in the moment, Justin stretched slowly forward, his mind in a hypnotic trance, and touched lips with Gina’s sensuous mouth. But, the kiss didn’t last long.

Suddenly, the hormonal spell that had ignited Justin’s passion was broken as the unmistakable sound of the front door opening sent his mind crashing back to reality. The door closed. Justin glanced up at the clock: 9:30. How could this be? Debbie was supposed to have been going out with Julie. The sound of approaching women’s heels on a hardwood floor echoed through the room.

“Whose that,” Gina casually asked. “I thought your step-mom was gone for the night.”

Justin looked around at the evidence: beer cans, cigarette butts, and most damaging, his two female guests. It was too late. He was busted.

“Hey Justin, I…” Debbie’s train of thought was brought to a screeching halt by the picture that unfolded before her. “What the hell is this?”

“Oh…it’s nothing really,” Justin stammered. “Gina and Andi just popped by…they hadn’t ever seen… (forgetting completely the movie they had just watched)…ummm…”

Debbie entered the room and immediately spotted the beer cans and cigarette butts.

“Nothing huh? (grabbing one of the empty cans). Certainly doesn’t look like nothing to me!”

Justin rose from the couch in hope of better defending his cause from a standing position, but was knocked back into his seat by a stinging slap to the face from Debbie.

“Not even two days pass before you directly disobey your father and me about having guests in the house without adult supervision. And girls at that.”

Justin was speechless.

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“Not to mention drinking beer and smoking cigarettes. I can’t believe this. You think the second your dad leaves you can march around here and do whatever you want. Well you’ve got another think coming, Justin.”

Debbie planted her purse on an end table and walked over to the front closet. She opened the door and fumbled around the top shelf for something. What she extracted was an item Justin had never seen before, but whose purpose was unmistakable—Debbie’s dreaded razor strap.

Gina and Andi had remained on the couch the whole time, transfixed by the events that were unfolding before them. The slap that Justin had received from Debbie had particularly gotten their attention. At the site of the razor strap, the girls appeared frozen, their expressions a never-changing look of wide-eyed astonishment.

Justin had the same look, but something else began to creep over his face as Debbie produced the sturdy, leather implement of punishment: fear. He knew he had better act quickly.

“What are you doing?” he timidly asked.

“Getting ready for your whipping.” With that comment, Debbie held the two pieces of attached leather at each end and gave the strap a resounding SNAP!!! “I think you know the drill, Justin.” Debbie motioned Justin into the other room. “You girls can go now.”

Justin’s precious teenage ego was coming hopelessly unraveled. He couldn’t possibly let these girls leave this scene under the pretense that he was going to be whipped like a little boy.

“You can’t give me a whipping,” Justin argued. “I’m 16 years old. And you aren’t even my real mother. Besides—”

Debbie’s ominous glare cut Justin off in mid-argument.

“That’s where you’re wrong Justin. I CAN give you a whipping and I WILL give you a whipping. You remember what your father said. Now I suggest you follow me unless you want to make it worse for yourself.”

“I ain’t gonna let you,” Justin challenged.

The girls had been fumbling for their purses and were starting to rise from the couch to beat a hasty exit from the volatile situation. However, Jason’s remark had them, once again, transfixed on the events unfolding before them.

“Very well Justin. You want to do it the hard way, it’s fine by me.” Debbie walked over to the telephone and began looking up a number in her address book.

“What are you doing?” Justin asked.

“First of all, I’m going to call your father. At first I wasn’t going to. I figured we’d deal with the situation right here and now between us. But I’m sure he wouldn’t mind spending the time and money to fly back for a few hours to deal with his disrespectful son and then fly back to Dallas again. Then, I’m gonna come over there and teach you some manners—if I have to drop your drawers and drag you over my knee kicking and screaming myself.”

Justin was stuck. He could see Debbie was serious about the phone call, as she picked up the phone and began dialing. He knew his dad would kill him. Maybe he’d be better off just taking it from Debbie and getting it over with.

(exasperated) “All right.” (more calmly) “All right. You can stop dialing now.” But Debbie was paying no attention. (shouting) “All right! I’m sorry! Please don’t call!”

Debbie glanced over at the now beaten teenager and slowly put down the phone.

“I think it’s a little late for apologies, Justin. You directly disobeyed your father and me, and then you disrespect me by refusing your punishment. It’s too late to take it back now. You think it was going to be bad before, just wait ’til you see how bad it’s going to be now.”

Gina and Andi had somehow broken away from the hypnotic scene and were heading for the front hallway. Debbie spotted them and had an idea.

“You girls wait,” Debbie commanded. “Grab a seat back on the couch. Justin thinks he’s such a big MAN, but I have a feeling getting his butt blistered in front of girls will show us all what a BOY he really is.”

Gina and Andi exchanged meaningful glances, and quickly, almost eagerly, made their way back to the couch. A sense of anticipation filled the air.

Justin was thoroughly humiliated, and the whipping hadn’t even started yet. But what could he do? He didn’t want to even consider enduring the wrath of his father, and this seemed the only way out. But getting his butt tanned in front of girls his own age—especially Gina—was going to be tough to live with. He just knew he would never be able to look her in the eye again if he went through with this. However, as the thought of his angry father filled his head yet again, the boy finally resigned himself to accept his fate.

Debbie led him by the arm into the living room. She took a seat on a love seat opposite Gina and Andi.

“Okay Justin. Drop your drawers and over my lap.”

Justin blushed furiously. He had remembered Debbie’s earlier reference to “dropping his drawers herself,” but hoped it was just a euphemism. However, there was nothing euphemistic about this situation as he fumbled with his belt, unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, and slid them partially down his thighs. Getting impatient, Debbie speeded up the process and yanked them down to his ankles. Justin wasn’t sure what to do next. Surely she wouldn’t make him take down his boxers, too.

“Bare butt, Justin. C’mon. We don’t have all day.”

Justin was on the verge of tears. The last shred of his macho, teen dignity was being stripped from him by this woman whom he had come to realize was no peer at all—but actually his step-mom. Justin glanced over at Gina and Andi. The smirks on their faces could barely contain the glee they felt at Justin’s predicament. He tried to block out the image of those smirks, but the picture had embedded itself in the deepest chasms of his mind.

Jason turned to face the TV, trying to escape the scrutiny of the three females who were watching him as he slowly lowered his boxers. Debbie, having none of it, spun him back toward her. He quickly tried to cover his boyhood, but Debbie slapped his hand away. It was useless. Debbie had a full frontal view of his most intimate area, and Gina and Andi had a very nice side perspective. Worst of all for Justin, the forced nudity, combined with the overwhelming femininity of the audience, had Justin’s member at a full state of attention. Tears were now flowing down the teenage boy’s face.

“You did the crime, now you’re going to do the time,” were the last words Justin remembered before being positioned across Debbie’s jean-clad lap. Fortunately for Justin, he was facing away from the prying eyes of Gina and Andi. He couldn’t possibly have withstood their gazes. But, it also meant that they would get a ring-side seat of his smooth, boyish bubble butt as Debbie set about to redden it.

SWOOOSH, CRACK! “Ow!” … SWOOOSH, CRACK! “Ow!” … SWOOSH, CRACK! “Ow!” …

“Dude, you tellin’ me you believe that slut Gina over me? She’s a fuckin’ lyin’ rag. She’s just pissed cause I wouldn’t fuck her. What? Damn straight. She’s a lyin’ fuckin’ bitch…

“You better believe I whipped his butt. He was bawling like a two-year-old when I got through with him. That boy ain’t gonna be sitting comfortably for sometime. Huh? Hell yeah it was bare butt. You know what I say: A little embarrassment goes a long way. And with those girls there…mmmm. He’ll be thinking twice before he pulls anything like that again. I’m going up to make sure he isn’t on the computer or on teh phone. He’s grounded from both.”

The door to Justin’s room opens.

“Fuck Debbie! Just cause she’s fuckin’ my dad don’t mean she’s gonna be tellin’ me what to do. What? Fuckin-A. Bitch knows whose in charge. I think I made it pretty fuckin’ clear when I told her to stay out of my shit. Huh? Listen, dude. Debbie better watch herself or I’ll pop her ass like a zit.”

“JUSTIN AARON DELANEY!!!”

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