Fists, feet, and justice
By Jack
A female self-defense teacher takes justice into her own hands and feet!


"UNKNOWN RAPIST STRIKES AGAIN"

Hollis put the morning paper down on her desk, steaming with anger. How
someone could rape five women was beyond her, but how she could let it go on
any further was even more outrageous. Beth, her most promising new student,
picked up the paper and shuddered, unable to read any more than the headline.

"It's disgusting," mumbled Hollis. "What I wouldn't give for ten minutes alone
with this guy ... "

Beth tried to take another glance at the paper, but she immediately turned
away in fear. "So what are you going to do?"

Hollis licked her lips and smiled grimly. Slowly and deliberately, she lifted
her legs up and propped her tan bare feet on the counter. She wriggled her
toes and took a long, knowing look at those thick tough soles who had brought
pleasure to so many men and all-punishing pain to so many more. "Introduce him
to the joys of bare feet. Now that would be a headline worth reading."

The fact was, Hollis and her self-defense studio had made plenty of headlines
over the past year. A self-made millionaire, Hollis had long since not needed
to work through a combination of unstoppable victories in martial arts
competitions. Add to that a string of lucrative modeling gigs and a financial
brilliance in the world of investments, and she was able to do what she wanted
by the age of 27. After a year of traveling the world, Hollis decided she
wanted to open up a martial arts studio. Unfortunately, she could not hold
with the belief that her skills should be used only in self-defense. More and
more, she would read the papers and dream of righting some of the wrongs which
would offend her sense of justice, particularly when she read about crimes
against women or children. Vigilantism was reprehensible, she told herself,
unless she could establish solid ground rules. She would never maim or kill
when she dispensed justice, only beat and humiliate. Also, she would ensure
that only men who were deserving would receive the bone-crushing fury of her
fists and feet. And it worked. Every now and then, the police would receive an
anonymous call tipping them off to major criminals with incriminating evidence
waiting to be arrested. When the police would arrive on the scene, they would
their culprits beaten to bloody pulps, usually unconscious or crying
uncontrollably in pain. When she knew that someone would benefit from viewing
the punishment, Hollis would videotape the thrashings and send them to the
victims of the criminals. Thank you notes poured in, and Hollis knew she was
doing good.

Her next step was to open a women's self defense studio. She would teach
beginning, intermediate, and advanced classes. Due to her incredible mastery
of a plethora of fighting styles, Hollis was able to teach all levels a
variety of methods of how to deal with attackers, yet since it was her own
system, Hollis was not forced to comply to the rules imposed by a particular
breed of martial arts. She wanted to teach only women as a way to instill
bonds of female physical empowerment. The classes were never anti-men; in
fact, Hollis had just started up a new relationship with a guy who she was
totally nuts over. In fact, she saw this to be a common theme: once the women
respected themselves and knew they could handle themselves, they saw their
dating prospects flourish, along with the intelligence of their choices. Of
course, she stressed that the skills she taught were never to be used when not
deserved. She showed how perfect fighting ability was meant to ensure a
woman's self-esteem and safety, not turn her into a brute or a bully. As a
result, Hollis saw her students, who ranged in age from 16 to 42, blossom in
terms of confidence, physical appearance, and particularly inner beauty.

Hollis had a strict rule of bare feet only in her studio; "Free your feet and
your mind will follow" was her motto. Practically, Hollis would tell her
students that most women's shoes (like high heels or sandals) were impractical
for fighting, but very easily removed if necessary for a fight. If you weren't
used to going barefoot, though, most terrains would shred your soles in no
time. Therefore, her most important homework assignment for new students was
"bare feet 24-7 if you can ... build up those soles!" Indeed, Hollis, who had
probably worn shoes only once or twice in the past year, could walk barefooted
on any terrain, and have it feel really good, too. In terms of fighting
satisfaction, bare feet were infinitely more satisfying than shoes; when
kicking the shit out of a deserving scumbag, Hollis loved nothing more than
feeling the contact of her sexy soles into their newly swollen testicles. On a
lighter note, bare feet were one of Gods greatest fashion inventions ... they
looked great, felt great, easily accessorized, went with absolutely any
outfit, and only got stronger the more they were worn. Finally, it was a
spiritual thing. Being a true barefoot meant being open, free, alive, sensual,
giving, and powerful. Shoes and socks were constraints; the truly free woman
was barefoot, beautiful, and confident.

The first year had been incredible. Hollis had more full classes than she knew
what to do with. Since it was her program, she taught all the classes, and she
was immediately beloved by her students for kindness, strength, beauty,
brains, and leadership. Hollis was happy to see that every single one of her
students quickly became strong, beautiful, successful, and totally barefoot.
Also, about 1/3 of the students had used their skills on the street, either in
self-defense or helping someone in need. Quickly, word spread in the local
news. One student, a 105-pound middle school teacher had kicked off her shoes
on the playground and beaten three trespassing drug dealers into bloody
messes. Another woman, a single mother, had used her flying feet to thoroughly
ass-whoop her abusive ex- husband who had tried stalking her after his release
from jail. He was now serving a fresh sentence for breaking a restraining
order and a host of other attempted charges. The courtroom had laughed and
cheered as this swollen-faced loser now missing several front teeth got
shipped off by a tough female judge as he bawled uncontrollably. The judge had
now joined one of Hollis' classes, and the ex-husband was receiving
psychiatric counseling in prison for his terrifying nightmares about flying
female feet. One of Hollis' favorite memories of the past year was going to
see four of her students in a rock band called Barefoot Babes (Hollis'
suggestion for a name; the girls loved it!). A fight had broken out when four
muscle-bound bullies had gotten drunk and started picking on guys in the crowd
who were enjoying the show with cute dates. The bullies had picked out the
girls they wanted and beaten up the guys who were with them. Three bouncers
came over and were quickly knocked senseless by the boozing football players.
At that point, the girls stopped their show, and made the announcement that no
one behaved like this in one of their performances. Hollis laughed and cheered
as each girl took a guy and gave him the thrashing of his life.

The sun was out, shining brightly on the early morning dew. He huddled behind
a tree, clad in black, a mask over his face. Women were scarce these days. Few
dared to come out anymore. He had scared off his prey. But time would pass and
they would forget. They would come back for their early morning jogs, before
jetting off to their successful lives. He would show them all.

But what was this? A slap-slap against the jogging trail. He looked and saw
the single most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his entire life. Jogging
barefooted, she was something, she looked strong, invincible in fact. A woman
whom he could never have in real life. Her legs were covered by sweat pants,
but those arms looked pretty strong. Reason should have told him to wait for
easier pickings, but this woman's obvious superiority to him in every way
(looks, class, athletic ability) drove him wild. Fortunately, he was a man,
she was a woman. He'd heard about women's self-defense ... it was a joke. He'd
taken some pretty athletic women, and he was no athlete, that was for sure.
His growing gut was proof of that. Most men would probably wipe the floor with
him, but taking out women was easy. The more they bought into all those silly
movies about super-karate-kicking babes just made things all the easier for
him.

Little did he know, he was about to make the biggest mistake of his life. And
this woman who filled him with such hatred was about to fill him with more
fear, pain, fists, and feet than he had ever dreamed possible.

"Oh my God, please don't hurt me!" cowered Hollis, savoring every moment she
could drag this out. She was drawing him in like a fly to a spider. A ski mask
and all black clothes, who was he kidding? Was that heavy breathing supposed
to be scary? Better play along, give him his few last kicks before the hiding
of his life. She'd have given anything to see the look on his face when he
would realize he was the prey, but it was going to be more fun to leave that
mask on until his face was properly pulped, then pull it off to see how
pathetic this loser would be then.

"Just come easy," he threatened, "maybe you'll enjoy it." Drool was coming out
saturating the mask where his mouth was. Hollis smiled inwardly, knowing soon
that it would be blood and teeth.

"Uuh! Uuuh!" Hollis flailed her fists wimpily, like a girl who couldn't fight,
while letting badly acted tears and fear show in her eyes. The creep started
laughing. Hollis wanted to laugh, too ... he was actually buying this crap?

"I'm gonna fuck you silly!" OK, that was it. When he said that, he crossed the
line, and this charade was gonna end now.

"Oh, REALLY!" said the barefoot bad-ass. It really was a perfect morning.
Hollis didn't understand how people could a) not jog on a morning this
beautiful, and b) wear shoes when they did it. The soft grass and dew on naked
soles was the perfect morning refresher, and all the experts said than bare
feet were the best running shoes in the world. Oh, well, they were also the
greatest weapons in the world, as this guy's testicles were about to discover.
"TAKE THAT!!!!!"

The toes bent back, the ball of the foot stretched and breathed, and Hollis
drove her thick calloused, dirty sole right into that assholes balls.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" They probably heard that in the
next county. Well, that was the change in facial expression she'd wanted to
see. Hollis noted with satisfaction that he'd had an incredible hard-on when
she'd kicked him, not that she'd noticed it before because of how incredibly
tiny his dick was. You see, extra things like that you just don't get if you
wear shoes when fighting. Ah, well, her crusade to liberate the female
population's feet would have to wait. Right now it was her crusade to send
every pervert and rapist to the intensive ward, court, and prison. She bent
down a bit, felt the energy build in her toes, shoot up through her waist,
into her right fist, and she sent out the single greatest uppercut in the
history of man""sorry, humans. It caught that asshole right on the chin and
actually sent him flying straight up in the air. Hollis watched with pride as
her victim reached his peak, then fell right straight back to the ground, flat
on his back.

For a moment, she was concerned. She didn't want his jaw broken. She also
didn't want him out cold yet. Fortunately, he was moving, actually, crying.
Here came the blood and teeth. Hard to spit those things out with a ski mask
on, you should've thought of that, you moron. Even with a ski mask on, Hollis
could see that look of absolute terror in his eyes.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!" The coward let out a scream of absolute terror,
jumped to his feet, turned, and ran for all that he was worth. An enormous
smile was fixed on Hollis' face. For all the justice she had administered,
this was the most, fun, satisfying, and ... actually, pathetic. This guy was
such a loser, she wondered how he'd actually gotten up to five women.

He looked behind him. She was just standing there. Standing still, and
laughing. Whatever she was up to, he didn't care. He just ran for all he was
worth.

"Now you know what it's like!"

He turned. What had she said?

"Now you know what it's like to be fifteen seconds from the worst beating of
your life!" Her smile disappeared. That look of anger on her face filled him
with dread. And she started running. Poor guy. Hollis had been the single
fastest runner (male or female) in the state for all four years of high
school. Actually, Hollis had dominated every sport she ever tried. But martial
arts were her true calling. As this guy was about to find out.

He ran with all his might, but the next time he looked back, she was just
about to leap. And leap she did, with one bare foot outstretched. Out of all
of this, that sight was the one which would cause him to wake up crying and
peeing for the next five years.

THUD!!! He went flying, in more pain than before, while Hollis landed neatly
and ran to his side.

"I hope you like your pain bloody, because that's how you're going to get it!"
WHAP!!! A punch straight into the face sent him back to the ground.

"Oh, please," he begged. "I'm the rapist, I'll turn myself in! Just don't beat
me up anymore!" And then he just cried his eyes out.

"I saw those women. You beat them to a pulp. And I'm gonna do the same to
you!" Hollis picked him up. "Here's a little rule. Never mess with a Southern
woman in her bare feet. It'll just make you get your ass kicked." Two punched
to the face ensured that he wouldn't be seeing much through those swollen
eyelids for days. WHAP!!! A kick broke his nose, and the follow-up cleaned out
the rest of those front teeth. WHOOMP!WHOOMP!WHOOMP! WHOOMP!WHOOMP! A flurry
of gut punches had him coughing up blood.

"And now," Hollis smiled, "I'll make you a deal. Stand up straight, legs
apart, and I kick you in the balls once." He smiled. That wasn't that bad.
Hollis grinned. "Once for each woman you raped!"

His eyes widened in terror. "NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!" WHAM!WHAM!WHAM! WHAM!WHAM!!!!!!!
Her right foot flew back and forth so fast, it could have been registered as
an automatic weapon. His eyes rolled back in his head and he didn't move from
that spot on the ground until he was found an hour later.

Hollis bent down and peeled off the mask. His face was a disgusting mess, but
she took supreme satisfaction in it. She'd seen those women, and they'd looked
just the same. She slapped his face, just enough to make sure he could hear
her.

"Now listen to me. My Name is Hollis Johansen. I have beaten the living shit
out of you, and I will do it again, once a week, until you have served at
least five years in prison. Someone will come and take you to a hospital where
you will confess and plead guilty. Or else ... " She pulled back a
sledgehammer fist for one last punch. His eyes widened and he fainted in total
fear. Hollis laughed and patted the sleeping idiot on the head. From her
pocket she pulled a previously written note. She he used his blood to stick it
onto his chest. It read:

"HELLO. I AM THE SERIAL RAPIST WHO HAS BEEN TERRORIZING THE CITY. THIS MORNING
I PICKED THE WRONG WOMAN AND SHE BEAT ME SILLY. I DIDN'T STAND A CHANCE; I
BEGGED AND PLEADED LIKE A CRYING BABY. PLEASE TAKE ME TO A HOSPITAL, COURT,
AND PRISON. YOURS TRULY, A BIG LOSER."

Hollis made her anonymous phone call. She went to the arraignment a few weeks
later. When asked how he would plead, she saw the slightest hesitation in her
victim's eyes. Hollis smiled and propped those gorgeously dirty bare feet up
for him to see. His eyes filled with fear. Then the most terrifying thing
happened. The whole front row (all Hollis' students) did the same thing. A
whole row of strong, thick, powerful, dirty bare female feet. The result: that
worthless loser pleaded guilty, BEGGED for five years jail time, broke down
crying, and peed his pants to soaking.

Hollis smiled. Now that was barefoot justice.