Vicki Barefoot and her Butt-Kicking Bare Feet!!! Part 1 By Jack A female private investigator kicks the crap out of the Mafia with her dirty soles. "Oh, God, no, please, don't""" The tough sole of my dirt- and blood-stained right bare foot exploded across the scumbag's jaw, sending a bunch of teeth and blood flying. Fortunately for him, unconsciousness came, and he got to sleep through the next few hours. Some others in the room weren't so lucky. OK, sorry for starting the story in the middle of the fun part, but I can never get enough of using my barefooted female fighting skills to turn big tough badguys into bloodied, toothless wrecks. My name is Vicki Barefoot (no kidding, that is actually my last name, and I'm extremely proud of it.) I'm a 24-year-old female private investigator, which means most of my time is spent hanging out in bars, trying to get cheating husbands to take an interest in me (I hate to brag, or actually I love too, but I'm usually pretty successful). If not that, I'm taking pictures of cheating husbands ... occasionally, I'm tracking down lost relatives, ... and then whatever other paying cases come in the door. My specialty, or what I enjoy the most, are cases which involve dispensing justice. I can use a gun, but I really hate the things. No, bare feet are my weapons. I may be only 5'4", but I've been a black belt in karate since I was 10. All my life, I've been beating the snot out of badguys who've had it coming, whether that means schoolyard bullies, abusive frat boys, or demented serial killers. Don't get me wrong, I think sex is a close second, but there is nothing in the world which touches the feeling of helping good people by beating a room full of badguys into month-long hospital stays (with good jail time for them after that!). "I've got a job for you, Vicki, if you're interested," the Captain's voice came over my cell phone. Now, at the time, I was relaxing on a park bench with a good book and no shoes, but I always like the Captain's jobs. I guess he could pay a bit better, but I'm not one to hog taxpayer money, and they invariably end with me beating the snot out of lots of really bad people before they're shipped off to prison. And the Captain calls on me for two reasons ... I'm not quite as law-bound as the police, and there is no better punishment to a big tough badguy than getting him and all of his henchmen beaten senseless by a cute girl's calloused bare feet. And I am very cute. Apparently, there was an informant for a Mob boss trial who had fled town to avoid having to do his civic duty. The informant was an accountant, so he probably wasn't going to last too long on his own. The Captain claimed that he had all of his best people tied up in other duties (plus he also suspected a mole in the department), so I seemed like his best option. Fair enough, I said. The next thing I knew four guys in suits were standing around me. "So you're the great Vicki Barefoot," the biggest one laughed. "You don't look so tough to me." The other three burst out laughing. I shrugged, looking up at these guys. "But I am." The big guy slipped a set of brass knuckles on his fingers. "Copeland said the Captain might call for you. Told us to make a real public example of you." "Really?" I asked, putting a bored yawn on the end. "Don't know why he said take extra men for some little bitch!" The four were almost uncontrollable with laughter. There weren't many people in the park, but some were looking concerned. I figured I'd better take care of this before anyone got themselves hurt by trying to help me. "Bitch, huh?" I stood up mock-indignantly on the bench. "That's right," laughed the littlest guy. "We're gonna rape you, beat you, and then cut you to bits. And there's not a motherfucking thing you can do about it, cunt!" (Special note ... this guy required six months of physical therapy and a plastic surgeon once I finished with him.) "Well," I shrugged, "I could try this!" Then, I jumped up, grabbing hold of an overhanging branch and shot my feet out hard in opposite directions. WHACK!!! WHACK!!! Two thugs fell backwards with broken noses. I pivoted a little and shot out two more kicks. The other two thugs thudded to the ground with loose teeth. Knocking out teeth is important for me. It really takes the fight out of guys, and makes them realize that this fight is going to be a face-altering experience. I suppose occasionally I'm just slapping someone around a bit as a lesson, but usually my fights bring me up against real bad people. Like Mob enforcers who've threatened to beat me with brass knuckles. For people like that, I have a little checklist: two eyes blackened shut, broken nose, busted lip, no front teeth, lots of belly punches, and several kicks to the groin. It's time consuming to do all of them, especially when you've got four attackers, but it's a nice goal. "BITCH!" yelled that big guy as he was getting to his feet. Well, fortunately I've got the best pair of feet in the ass-kicking business, and my dirty soles were anxious to do some badguy bone-breaking. A guy this big and strong usually gets the ... well, what I did next. CRACK! CRACK! One perfect kick to each shin had him drop to his knees, howling in pain. "Eat some breakfast, asshole!" I jeered. Then, with my left foot solidly and firmly on the ground, my right leg chambered and let fly. That right foot kicked him repeated in the face so many times so fast that even I lost count. All I knew was that five seconds later, his face was so battered and bloody that even his mom wouldn't recognize him. "Our special today is the Barefooted Scramble!" My right then took its place on the ground (oh my God, the morning grass feels so great against my bare feet! How can women who are naturally free and barefooted creatures stand not to be barefooted every single second of the day! I hate shoes, socks, nylons, anything which separates my naked soles from the beautiful caress of the earth! OK, I could basically talk for an eternity about the perfect bliss of female barefootedness, but then I could also talk forever about my bare feet beating the everloving shit of deserving slimeballs, so I'll get back to that) while my left came up and kicked that shithead right into unconscious oblivion. "Holy shit!" that littlest pipsqueak cried out as he turned and ran. Goshdarned coward. He was going to get the worst beating of all, but I still had to give these two goons a good hospitalizing, too. Then I saw something great ... The three other people in the park tackled the guy, then sat on him to hold him down. "Aren't you Vicki Barefoot, the private eye?" one of the guys yelled to me. "Yeah!" I called back. "Oh, man," he turned to his buddies. "I've read about her. She could beat the crap out of five guys and not even break a sweat! She put a team of three serial killers into the hospital last month!" "She's hot, too!" said one of the others. "You take care of those two however you want," the first guy called back to me. "This one'll be waiting right here for you." My three new friends burst into laughter, then suddenly one recoiled. "Hey, this guy we're sitting on just peed himself! Hurry up, sexy feet! We want a good show!" I couldn't help but smile. "You've got it, guys. I always want to keep my fans happy!" I turned to the two men in front of me ... big, tough, experienced Mob enforcers. And they had fear coming off of them like a stench. I wriggled my toes and let them taste the soil beneath me. "Let me get my soles nice and dirty here, assholes, so that I can put my dirty bare footprints all over you two as I kick you half to death!" That was it. Guy on the left reached into his pocket and whipped out a knife. I caught his wrist and drove my leg into the other guy's groin as hard as I could. He let out a cry of absolute pain as he fell to the ground in a ball. In the mean time, my free hand balled into a fist and cracked a perfect right hook against the left guy's jaw. His eyes rolled back and the knife fell. To be honest, I had to wait a moment for his focus to return. I like to give my fodder the most perfect humiliation possible, and that requires that they know what's coming. Just as his eyes returned to focus, I drove that right into his soft flabby belly. "UUUUUUUHHHHHH!" Before it had time to recover, I fired five more sledgehammer slugs into that gut. As I stepped back, that guy fell to the ground and puked up his breakfast. My three onlookers cheered like mad. "Hey, who are these guys?" one asked. "Mafia hit men" I called back. "Looks like you're the only one doing the hitting!" I couldn't help but laugh. The groin kick guy was starting to pick himself up. He held his hands up in the air and he had that look in his eyes that I knew so well. That's why I love dragging these villain demolishings out as long as I can, so these thugs can feel the full emotional impact of their thorough destruction; I'd seen it a million times and I never get tired of it. Part of it was male pride shattered by the concept of a woman beating him up and him knowing he didn't stand a chance of even landing one punch. Part of it was the unshakable knowledge that he deserved every single iota of this ass-whooping for the evil he had done. A tiny part of it was arousal at the sight of a beautiful woman, and another part inferiority at my barefooted splendor. But mostly it was absolute terror. And the begging was about to begin! "Oh, God, please! I'll do anything! Just don't beat the shit out of me!" And he broke down crying. "Oh, God, no. I've never been in so much pain in my life!" And the crying continued. My grin went from ear to ear. I put the ball of my left foot underneath his chin, and lifted his head up to look at me. "Where's the accountant? I asked. "They're taking him to a warehouse on the southside. Here's the address!" He pulled out a piece of paper and threw it to the ground. He was in such absolute terror than I knew he couldn't be lying. "Good for you," I nodded, "you just bought yourself a one-way ticket past sheer pain and onto unconsciousness." With that, I spun around, pivoting on the ball of my right foot while my left placed a kick on his jaw that sent the coward into dreamland. I pleasantly noticed that it also knocked out all of front teeth! I turned to the other punk who was dry heaving now. "Here," I said, "Let me give you something for that." One well-placed kick broke that nose and left him out cold, as well. "WOO-HOO!!!" My three fans were cheering like crazy. I bowed and let my lethal feet carry me gently over to meet them. "Let me take this," I smiled, and turned their quarry's arm at an angle to ensure he was in a truckload of pain AND wouldn't be getting away. The three guys stood back and stared at me with a combo of awe, hero-worship, and total infatuation. I couldn't resist. They'd earned this. "Come here, boys," I smiled. "I think each one of you deserves a full-blown kiss on the lips." Total joy filled their eyes, even more so when I gave each one a pretty solid smackeroo. "Now for a guy who deserves something else!" I said. My three fans couldn't wait, but this shrimpy guy was already covered in piss and shit. "Oh, man!" I moaned, "How scared can you get?" He didn't respond, he was crying his eyes out. I pulled out a stopwatch and tossed it to one of my new buddies. "I'm in a hurry, so I can only waste a minute on this guy. Let's see how long it takes me to make his eyes swell shut, break his nose, knock out all front teeth, bust both lips, box his ears, slug him in the gut five times, knee him twice in the groin, then use my right foot to kick him unconscious." I was proud. I did it in 46 seconds. 35 minutes later ... "Oh, God, no, please, don't""" The tough sole of my dirt- and blood-stained right bare foot exploded across the scumbag's jaw, sending a bunch of teeth and blood flying. Fortunately for him, unconsciousness came, and he got to sleep through the next few hours. Some others in the room weren't so lucky. Seven trained assassins lay broken and bleeding on the floor of the warehouse. How cool was that? A $25/hr. 24-year-old female private eye who stands only 5'3" in her bare feet (which is how she stands 24 hrs. a day) had just beaten the living hell out of $7,000,000 worth of trained villainy. That's just cool! I cut the accountant loose from the chair he had been tied to. "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!" he effused. "You saved my life! I'll do anything you want!" "Good," I smiled. "You're due in court in 17 minutes." I have plenty more Mafia rear to kick, so watch for the second installment. Rest assured, my dirt-covered bare feet are going to get a lot more exercise putting badguys into pure misery. And a dirty cop and the Mafia kingpin are both going to learn that you don't want to mess with the feet of Vicki Barefoot. BAREFOOTED WOMEN KICK ASS!!!!!