Tough feet and a bloody badguy
By Jack
A barefooted female reporter beats a serial killer until he begs for mercy


"Mr. Jackson?"

A few taps at the door, and it swung in, letting light from the hall
illuminate the darkened room. Selena stepped cautiously inside, her bare feet
making sure with each step that they weren't about to walk into a trap. The
light from the hall allowed her to see the room's basic furnishings, and all
her ears heard was silence. Right now, those bare feet were the only senses
telling her anything about the room.

He smiled. The young female reporter was silhouetted in the doorway. She was
perfect. Her tight, short hair, the conservative trenchcoat, a pair of fitting
but not tight jeans. She was gorgeous, even if she didn't act like it. He knew
the type, trying to be taken seriously, she didn't depend on her looks. But it
was that sexy little body he was lusting after. And he would have it in just a
few minutes. After he'd killed her ...

Selena Jacobs had just landed her first job out of journalism school. Day in,
day out, she wrote the obituaries, helped set the type on the printer, but
investigative journalist was the job for which she yearned. So when she got a
phone call telling her to come to come to this apartment if she wanted a lead
on the mysterious Jackknife Killer, she came. She didn't believe in guns. And
being a third-degree black belt, she never had to.

Her eyes were adjusting. The room was starting to come into focus. But still
it was those soft bare feet that were telling her what she needed to know.
Selena basically went everywhere barefoot ... for a number of reasons. Number
one, she was Selena, she was just a barefoot kind of girl. Number two, that
was how she fought, and those cute little feet had pulverized their fair share
of creeps who had tried to mess with Selena or her friends. And finally,
Selena was a psychic. Oh, she didn't tell people usually, but those feet were
telling her everything about the owner of this apartment. For instance, he was
a 32-year-old male from a well- connected New England family, who also enjoyed
carving up young women. And that he was sitting under the tarp over the chair
in front of her. He was laying a trap for her, and she smiled slightly as she
decided to take the bait.

He smiled. She was coming toward the chair, she turned, and sat.

"HAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!" The Jackknife Killer leapt from his chair, throwing
Selena down to the floor. "You found me," he grinned, "but it will never make
it into that paper of yours. Because you're about to become Victim #8!"
Suddenly, that front door slammed shut. They were totally in the dark.
Jackknife stared lovingly through his night-vision goggles at the gorgeous
creature before him.

Selena smiled. This guy was so dumb, he was standing silhouetted right in
front of a window. He pulled back his arm and stabbed, only to have Selena
grab his arm and twist it sharply, causing the knife to drop. Simultaneously,
she shot her right foot up into the air and slammed a kick straight into the
Jackknife Killer's nose.

"AAAAAAGH!" he cried as his nose exploded into a geyser of blood. As his hands
shot up to his face, Selena sent that same cute foot flying right into his
crotch. She grinned with satisfaction as she felt her thick calloused sole
make contact with this monster's genitals. That was the best part of being a
barefooted ass-kicking psychic; she could feel the emotions of fear, terror,
and pain surging through the body of the deserving scumbag as she beat him up.
She pulled back her right fist and delivered a devastating uppercut which sent
him flying through the air and flat onto his back.

Pain and fear were flooding through him, but suddenly something took over
which was even more powerful: male ego. No way this cute-as-a-button girl
could beat him up. He crawled back to his feet, let out a bellow and charged.

The kitchen was a neatly kept room, humble but functional with a solid wood
door. Although the room was empty, a strange noise was rapidly approaching ...
it almost sounding like a male scream of terror.

KABLAM!!!!! The door burst open as the Jackknife killer flew head-first into
the room. He landed and instantly began bawling in pain. Suddenly, his voice
stopped with fear. The gentle pitter-patter of bare feet on linoleum filled
him with dread. There she was, this seemingly innocuous looking young woman
with her hands held up in karate stance.

She looked down at the loser on the floor, and a satisfied smile cracked over
her face. Jackknife quivered in fear. He held his hands up defensively.

"OK!" he begged. "OK, you got me! I'll go quietly."

Selena's toes were wriggling. They were picking up vibes of the ten women this
sicko had killed. "You've murdered ten women, Jackknife. And now they're going
to get revenge."

He screamed and made an attempt to burst past her. In a move almost quicker
than the eye could see, Selena's toes bent back, and her foot shot out.
Jackknife fell back against the wall with a painful new black eye.

"I'm no killer," Selena said grimly. "But I am an absolutely perfect fighter.
I once put twelve men into the intensive care unit using just these fists and
feet. And now I'm going to do the same to you."

Again, he charged. Selena stepped aside and used his force to slam him into
the wall. He tried to turn in hopes of defending himself, but the attack was
on him. Three kicks so fast that they were almost indistinguishable. Jackknife
was lying on the ground, bawling uncontrollably.

A crooked smile was crawling over Selena's face. On the one hand, she was
filled with a sense of overwhelming justice. This ass-kicking would never
match the horror that was done to Jackknife's victims, but it sure was a good
start. She was also amused at the once terrifying killer who was a cowardly
puddle of blood and tears on the ground. "Awwww, is the big scary killer
afraid of the little girl reporter."

He rolled over, terror filling his eyes. "Stop! I'll tell the police
everything! Just don't beat me up anymore, AAAGGGHHH!"

Selena grinned as her well-manicured hand closed around Jackknife's testicles.
It was an old trick she's learned to drag a man twice her size to a
semi-standing position for further beating. Another trick she'd learned was to
taunt and tease her prey. This would hopefully remain in this killer's memory
as the absolute worst ten minutes of his life, and she wanted to stretch them
out for all they were worth.

"Bare feet, Mr. Jackknife. Those are my secret. You see, going barefoot is
essential for a woman. It keeps me in contact with the ground, it looks good,
it feels good. It's just so important to who I am."

A sudden squeeze of the crotch and two slaps sent more pain through that
murdering creep.

"Most guys love it. Rubbing my feet is a great way into my heart. Most guys
have dreams about my feet. But guys like you, they get nightmares. Because I
consider it an absolute pleasure to take bullies, chauvinists, and criminals
and give them beatings they'll never forget.

Selena let go of his crotch and issued a painful flurry of blows. One to the
solar plexus, one to the mouth, a chop to the neck, ... and then she placed
that calloused right fought up against his throat, holding him against the
wall for more humiliation.

"But I've never beaten the living shit out of a serial killer. And I have to
say that this is probably the greatest moment of my life. Others have come
close ... These two guys tried to rape me in college, they spent seven months
each in intensive physical therapy. There was this bully in high school who I
beat up and threw into a trash bin. But you, I'll admit you've been the best."

His bawling was overwhelming now.

"Oh, you're trying to wash the blood off my feet. That's cute. But the time
has come for the grand finale"""

"GOD, NO MORE!!!" he begged, until that thick sole pressed tighter on his
windpipe.

"You murdered I don't know how many women. Now you're gonna get the single
worst beating of your life!" That foot shot back and drove into his mouth,
knocking out any remaining front teeth. A barrage of fists and feet hit him so
many times and so quickly, it was hard to keep count of what was happening to
him.

Selena stepped back to admire her handiwork. The Jackknife killer fell to his
knees. Both eyes were swelling badly, and the rest of his face was puffing up
nicely. The nose was a bloody mess, as were the lips. And those front teeth
were gone. In all probability, the rest of his body would be covered in welts,
and the way his legs were together, those balls were going to need a lot of
nursing. And he was crying uncontrollably.

Selena smiled with absolute pride. There had been other successes in her
fighting career. She'd put her college roommate's rapist into physical therapy
for six months, and the prison psychiatrist had proudly told her that the
son-of-a-bitch regularly wet his bunk from nightmares of the beating she'd
given him. And then there was the time when she'd hospitalized four high
school football players who gang raped a girl over spring break. But this was
the best. Her toes twitched with pride, and the crooked grin across her face
mixed pride with the amusement at how easy it had been to demolish this creep.

"P-please," he begged. "Don't hurt me anymore. You've knocked out all my
teeth! I c-can't take it!!!" And he kept wailing. "Nooooo!!!!!"

Selena cocked her head. "You're gonna have nightmares about this for the rest
of your life. And they're gonna start right now!" The fist which she had
pulled back shot forward with blinding speed, but in the Jackknife Killer's
eyes, it was slow motion. This was the end for him. Over the next few months,
his mug shot of a horribly beaten man would be accompanied by news stories of
this barefooted female hero who had given him his just desserts. Women's
self-defense classes doubled in enrollment, as girls around this country
claimed Selena as their heroine. Unfortunately, the shoe industry lost some
sales, as America's top new investigative reporter made it her trademark to
never be photographed in a pair of shoes, and that caught on like wildfire.

Selena's career skyrocketed, and over the next ten years, she busted many a
slimeball with her investigative reporting. (Those who were dumb enough to
physically attack her as she nailed them on camera were also subject to
on-camera ass-whoopings!) But few beatings ever tasted as good in her memory
as the day she beat the Jackknife Killer into a bloody, unconscious pulp.

The only thing stronger than girl power is Barefooted Girl Power!