Kristin Kicks Ass
By Jack
A gorgeous model uses her fists and bare feet to mercilessly demolish some badguys!


Kristin stood in front of the mirror and looked over herself. 27 was a perfect
age, mature yet young, Kristin was absolutely beautiful, the sort of woman who
actually caused mouths to drop and traffic to stop. Kristin flexed her muscles
and pushed out her chest. But she was a successful model, so this was only to
be expected. Perhaps she would have gotten more work had she been a typical
stick, but she remained firm to her belief that a woman with hips, breasts,
and physical prowess could be sexy, too. Maybe that had been the problem ...
she was so sexy, it could be intimidating. 5- foot-7, wavy blonde hair with a
nice silk blouse and conservative yet sexy pants ... she wanted to look sexy
and feminine, yet conservative and tasteful for what she was about to do.
Also, she had to be able to move, it was essential to not be constricted by
her clothing. She placed a hand on the chair to her left, another on the chair
to her right and effortlessly lifted her legs so that she could see the soles
of her bare feet in the mirror. Ah, her best friends. Those feet gave her such
pleasure just by being free and shoeless as much as possible. They had the
dirty, calloused look of healthy female feet. Indeed, Kristin had become
popular for her refusal to wear shoes or socks in her photo shoots.

Kristin sighed. She had never risen to quite the level she should have,
partially because she was too independent, intelligent, and intimidating for
an industry which feared such things in women. Today, though, Kristin was
going to throw her career away. Not that it mattered. She would be doing the
right thing, and she knew it would be one of the truly great moments of her
life.

Born 27 years previously, Kristin was the sort of woman who was put on earth
simply to give everyone else inferiority complexes. An early IQ test had shown
an intelligence level well past genius ... 181 was the score. Wise beyond her
years, Kristin was both the pride of her parents and the bane of their
existence; she would never do anything without knowing why, and she simply
refused from age 5 on to put shoes, socks, or anything on her feet, which she
felt had not done anything to warrant being covered or smothered. A whiz with
math and science, she had been part of a government think tank at the age of
13. All the while, she studied any topic or activity she could get her hands
on. Phenomenal at all sports, most boys hated playing with her, because of the
crushing blow to their male egos being athletically dominated by a totally
female barefooted babe. Her most fulfilling physical experiences came in
studying any form of unarmed physical combat. Karate, tae kwan do, kickboxing,
boxing ... Kristin devoured the study of them all and prized herself on being
a phenomenal female fighter. Her first fight was at age 6 when she had
demolished three 8-year-old bullies on the playground. Ever since then, she
had always relished dishing out justice with her unbeatable fists and feet. It
had been almost six years since such a fight, but today she would be dishing
out more justice again.

Burnt out on government work by age 19, Kristin took to travel. She had
savings, and her natural wizardry at playing the stock market made her wealthy
before turning 20. Her financial future only soared when a talent agent
discovered her on the street in New York City and had given her a new life in
modeling. Kristin loved the travel and the glamour, but it soon became obvious
that her non-physical attributes would not be appreciated. Attempts to break
into music and acting were thwarted by suits demanding cookie-cutter
mediocrity, a thing not possible for a woman this phenomenal.

Then last week, an event occurred which Kristin knew would end her modeling
career. Her best friend, Sarah, a younger fellow model, had been beaten and
sexually assaulted by Jerry Wilcox, one of the most successful producers in
the business. Kristin had begged Sarah to take the creep to jail, but Sarah
was too afraid. Crossing this man meant the end of any career. In addition, he
had photos of her taken by a sleazy fashion photographer named Marcus Snell.
If distributed, these photos would destroy her squeaky clean image. Kristin
argued that this beating would probably end a model's career anyhow, but that
was not an argument which created anything other than tears in her friend. So
Kristin decided to deal with this herself. After a little snooping, she found
that many other young women had been similarly beaten by Wilcox and
photographed by Snell, but all were too afraid to speak out.

Well, thought Kristin grimly, I know how to make these men confess, and I know
how to make them laughably unscary.

Kristin flexed those powerful bare feet one last time and smiled.

Jerry looked around the photo room. He was keeping a cool composure, but deep
inside he couldn't have been more excited. Kristin Wilson, the single most
beautiful woman he had ever met, wanted to do a private photo shoot.
Heretofore, she had always rejected his offers, both professional and
otherwise, and now she was finally giving in. He smiled as he knew the reason
why. She was getting older, and she needed something to reboost her career.
Her career had stalled for a number of reasons: her independence did not sit
well with most control freak producer males, her unwillingness to do nudity,
... but most of all, her constant rejection of Jerry Wilcox had driven him to
keep her down in any way possible. Now she was finally giving in, and he was
looking forward to it. She had asked for Marcus Snell to do the photos, as
well as the presence of Jerry's two bodyguards. No worries, he'd get rid of
them soon enough, and he'd finally get the one- on-one action he'd desired for
almost eight years now.

A knock came at the door, and Mike, the bigger of the two bodyguards opened
the door. There stood Kristin, looking totally phenomenal. Jerry licked his
lips, certain that he was about to get what he deserved. He couldn't have been
more right.

The meeting began simply enough with Jerry, Marcus, and Kristin discussing
what they should do for the shoot. After a little discussion, Kristin upped
the stakes by saying that she wanted a shoot similar to one Sarah had done.
The tension rose because all four men had been present when Jerry got carried
away on Sarah. The tension went through the roof when Kristin pulled out a
photo of Sarah, beaten to a pulp.

"What the hell is this?" sputtered Jerry. "I don't know what you're up to, but
your career is over now!"

Kristin nodded. "Yes, it is. So is Sarah's; after being beaten like this,
she'll probably never model again. All four of you are responsible for her
being beaten to a pulp, so in the next five minutes, I'm going to do the same
thing to you."

Jerry's face was livid. How dare this impertinent bitch threaten him like
this! Mike however, was grinning from ear to ear. "Beat the living shit out of
her, Mike! Best her worse than her ugly little friend!" Mike stood on one side
of her, Jake the other bodyguard stood on the other. Mike and Jake almost felt
sorry for their impending victim, this beating was going to be so one-sided as
to be embarrassing. Little did they know that Kristin almost felt the same way
about what she was going to do to them.

Coward that he was, Marcus wanted to be nowhere near this. He could take one
look at Kristin's perfect athletic body and know he would stand no chance if
her fists took aim at him. Sure, she'd never get past Jake and Mike, but he
wanted to get as far from her as possible. (The other three men were just too
stupid to realize that they were about to get beaten into bloody pulps.)
Marcus grabbed the doorknob and turned. No luck. "It's locked!" he cried.

"That's right," smiled Kristin. "Byron, the technician with a little crush on
me, has locked the doors, so we're all alone together. He also has every
single woman whom Mr. Wilcox has physically abused watching this room on
security camera. I have no doubt that once they see one of their fellow female
models beat the shit so far out of the four of you that you'll need a
cholostemy bag, ... well, then they'll feel a lot more confident about
testifying in court and putting your four in jail."

In the control room, a gasp went through the mouths of the six women
(including Sarah) who Kristin had gathered to watch this comeuppance. They
were terrified yet thrilled that their friend was so blatantly defying Jerry's
authority. Byron sat at the controls and grinned. He'd seen Kristin work out.
He knew those four male fools stood no chance.

That was all Jerry could take. The thought of jail and a female thrashing were
not in his head; they were too ludicrous to be considered. But how dare this
blonde bimbo be so insubordinate. "Take her!" ordered Jerry. At once, his two
behemoth bodyguards grabbed for the barefoot goddess. That was the first
mistake. Her hands were quick and fast. Her right grabbed one man's arm, her
left grabbed the other. A twist of the body, a twist of the wrists, and both
men went flying straight into the wall.

"OUCh!" "AHHHGH!" "SHIT!" "UGH" Jerry couldn't believe what he had just seen.
Mike and Jake were champion fighters, brutal street brawlers, and both really
big. There was no way this girl, fit though she may be, could defeat the two
of them? Or at least she'd be beaten so badly ... RAT-A-TAT-TAT-ATAT-TAT!!!!
Another flurry of punches stopped the two champions dead in their tracks, and
left them lying on the ground, bloody. Moaning in pain. Marcus was filled with
fear, but Jerry could only find disbelief. It wasn't possible..!

"Get up, get up, you drunken bums!" he cried. "Fight! Beat the shit out of
her."

Kristin turned to him, a crooked, amused smirk on her face. "Quite the
contrary, Mr. Wilcox. I'm the only one whose shit is going to be fully intact
when I'm through with you."

Jake got up and marshaled all his strength. No woman was going to beat him.
For three reasons: a) he'd never been beat ever! B) so it definitely wasn't
going to be a woman who would beat him, and definitely not so hands-down as
the fight had been so far! C) if word of this got out, he would never get
hired again. Poor guy. He never stood a chance. Every fist, kick, and combo
Jake threw was either deflected or dodged by this superwoman. She wasn't even
bothering to fight back, she was simply letting him get tired and humiliate
his ass off. And that amused/superior smirk just drove home the fact that she
was playing with him. He'd never seen anything like it ... and he certainly
never wanted to again. After a minute and a half of total frustration, Jake
did something he never thought would happen in a fight ... he broke down
crying!!! "Why won't you stay still!" he bawled. "This is the worst day of my
life!!!!!"

Well, finally he got a reaction: Kristin laughed. A mocking superior
condescending laugh that drove his total failure home. "Well," she grinned,
"your day's about to get a lot worse!"

OOF! AAH! EEEE!!! Fist after fist battered into Jake's body and face. HA! HOO!
HEH!!! Those flawless, worldly bare feet did such a number on him, kicking and
pulverizing his big muscular body into so much fluff. Kristin couldn't help
but smile. One of her favorite parts about kicking ass in bare feet is
covering her opponents with bare footprints of dust and dirt. After a few
minutes, he was slumped, battered and bleeding against the wall. With all the
strength he could muster, Jake held his hands up and begged for mercy: "Please
... please, no more, I beg of you." His sobbing was uncontrollable.

Kristin didn't look convinced. Her knee rose, and she twisted her leg so that
that beautiful, dirty bare sole was aimed tight at him.

"I'll go to the cops. I'll tell them all about what we did to that girl!"

"Why, you ... " Jerry Wilcox ran forward to shut up his squealing employee,
but he ran right into Kristin's fist. THUD! He fell to the ground, nursing a
bloody nose. (She laid him down while still standing perfectly on one leg!
Amazing!)

"I don't need you to tell the police anything. Because I have gathered every
woman who you four ever conspired against. They've all been too terrified to
come forward until now, but I have a feeling that you four are going to seem a
lot less scary when they've seen one of their own, beat all of you straight
into the hospital. So you might as well enjoy the next 10 minutes, because I
know they are."

Jake broke down crying. His career was over, as was everyone's in this room.
But all he cared about was that tough, calloused, dusty foot which was flying
toward him in slow motion ...

CRACK! Kristin's right bare foot collided with Jake's jaw, and he collided
with unconsciousness. With a big barefoot print right across his bloody face!

Mike just stayed down. He didn't want any of this. It didn't work out that
way. Kristin reached into his pants, grabbed his testicles, and pulled him to
standing. The moment she let go of his manhood, her speedbagging fists kept
him up. Once he had two swollen eyes, a flattened nose, a busted lip, no front
teeth, and about a dozen fistprints on his gut, she let the totally
ass-whooped loser slump senseless to the ground and bawl like crazy.

Kristin turned. Smiled. She flexed her toes once to emphasize her barefooted
superiority. She slipped off her blouse to reveal a sports bra. She wanted
them to totally know that it was a phenomenally gorgeous babe that was kicking
their lives straight into the dumpster. She held up one finger and beckoned
them towards her.

Jerry and Marcus looked at each other. Marcus' face was covered with absolute
fear. In that moment, Jerry got it. This woman for whom he had lusted so long
had pulverized his two bodyguards, had rallied his victims to become his
accusers, ... but most of all she was going to beat him worse than he had beat
all six women put together. And there was not a thing in the world his money,
influence, or fists could do to stop it. And in that moment, Jerry's cowardly
soul experienced the "fight or flight" syndrome; and all he could think about
was flight.

"Take him!" Jerry yelled, pushing Marcus forward, while he ran to the other
side of the room. Kristin smiled. That was fine with her. She wanted to save
Wilcox for last. She leapt and did a perfect flying kick. Marcus stumbled
straight forward until her foot embedded itself in his flabby gut. "UGGGGH!!!"
as Marcus literally folded in two around her leg.

Right to the tummy! Left hook to the jaw! A swirling spin kick right across
the face! And teeth went flying!

Now Marcus was bawling. Knowing he was too weak to stand up to much of
anything, Kristin contented herself with slapping him back and forth,
front-hand and back hand until his face was red and swollen. She then held him
up and repeatedly drove her knee into his groin. Then she took a moment to
savor this sniveling little wretch's final moments of consciousness.

"Please!" he begged. "You've knocked my teeth out, beaten me shitless, you're
sending me to prison! Can't you just leave me alone to bleed?!"

"No." And that cocksure, amused smile crossed her face. "Since your
photographer's eyes are the cause of all this, I'm going to shut them for the
next few days!" And Kristin pulled back that mighty fist and gave Marcus her
two most powerful punches. One for each eye. They started swelling instantly.
He didn't see anything for the next three days. "Now have a nice night!" And
one last punch sent him to dreamland.

"I'm sorry, your phone has no service!" Jerry was frantically tapping away at
his cell phone, hoping someone would come to save him from getting demolished.

Kristin shrugged. "Like I said, I have a technician with a crush on me. I
guess you'll just have to try using your fists!"

Suddenly Jerry realized the situation. He'd been in a number of fights before,
and he'd always wiped the floor with his opponents. He'd show this bitch!
"I'll show you, you bitch!" he cried, advancing with his fists drawn. (Of
course, he'd never admit to himself that these fights had all been with men
and women whom his bodyguards had already beatn into submission.)

"That's the spirit!" cheered Kristin as she shot a bare foot right through his
defenses and into his soft stomach!

"OOF!" came the noise.

She spun twice. There were two loud cracks as her foot slammed into his jaw
with lightning speed. Two punches to the gut and an uppercut left Jerry
reeling.

"HIYYYYAAAAA!" Kristin leapt up into the air, flexed her toes for maximum
flexibility, and kicked her awesome right foot straight into Jerry's face.

In the next room, the crowd literally went wild. They couldn't believe what
they were seeing, but it was thrilling. There were two more rounds, each time
Kristin meted out maximum punishment. After it was all over, the four men who
had made these women's lives living hells were all lying on the ground,
bleeding, moaning, bawling.

"No, GODDDD!" Jerry whined. "You're gonna kill me!!!!!" He pissed his pants,
shat his shorts, and cried like a faucet. All he could see was that cocksure,
superior smirk staring down at him.

"Actually, I'm not going to break a single major bone in your body. I'm going
to beat your face beyond recognition, and you might not want to pee for awhile
... but I never let the punishment outdo the original crime. However, I am
going to send you to prison, and I think every major tabloid will love the
story of how one of the modeling industry's biggest sleazeball was taken down
single-handedly by a gorgeous barefoot babe. For some reason most people love
stories where beautiful women beat the living shit out of guys who totally
deserve it. I'm gonna love making you a laughing stock. I'm gonna love giving
those women the justice of seeing you in jail. But most of all, I'm going to
enjoy this!"

And then she dished out the most merciless beating of her avenging career. And
it rocked!

Kristin walked out to the greatest standing ovation of her life. The women all
hugged, knowing their nightmare was over. They all testified and all four men
did some time.

Kristin was done with modeling. She packed her things, got in her car, and
drove out of town. What ever was in her future, she was looking to find it.