FEMALE MARTIAL ARTS JUSTICE (part 5 of 5): THE FINALE, ACT 1

A tale of Female Martial Arts Supremacy by Kicked 72

Part 5 of 5: The Finale, act 1 (Due to its lenght the grand finale of this story will be divided into 4 acts)

In the previous parts 

A young female martial arts expert is on a mission to destroy the Mafia gang that has slaughtered her family when she was a little child. Using her lethal kicks and her deadly feet as her only weapon, the female warrior has managed to mercilessly exterminate 245 male members of the gang. As a result, the big Boss of the gang - the ultimate objective of the young woman’s fury - is forced to run and hide inside a bunker set in a secret location. However, after having slaughtered the four remaining henchmen of the Boss, the unstoppable female avenger sneaks in the man’s hideout and engages with him in a duel to the death. The woman easily defeats her opponent but – thanks to a sneaky move - the injured boss manages to take her captive. His advantage does not last for long though: even if physically restrained, the young woman manages to kick the boss to within an inch of his life, proving her superiority once again. It’s her turn to take the boss as a prisoner: now she’s going to drive him to the place where Female Martial Arts Justice can finally be achieved. 

Driving the Boss to Justice

The boss was lying on the floor of his bedroom, still completely unconscious due to the extremely severe multiple beatings he had already endured. In the meantime, the victorious young female martial artist who caused his dismal state with her lethal kicks was a flurry of focused activity. First of all, she collected all the CCTV footage from that night as well as the video of her family’s massacre: she did not want anyone else to watch the cruel extermination of her dearest ones. On the other hand, she really wanted the entire world to see what she did to the boss and his men: as soon as she was done with the execution of the boss, she was going to make all the videos of her destruction of the mafia gang public by sending them to all media and sharing them on the web. Billions of people were going to watch a young girl singlehandedly defeat, humiliate and kill 250 male fully armed criminals who were all ranked among the most feared men in the world. Most importantly, they had to watch her doing that by using her martial arts trained feet as her one and only weapon! The revolutionary potential of that footage was immense and she was going to make full use of it for the benefit of all the women in the world and for the disgrace of all male chauvinists! As soon she had collected all the video files she needed, she sent them to her own secret online server where she kept the rest of the footage from her entire journey to Female Martial Arts Justice. She used the Boss’s computer to do that. In order to follow all of the gang’s movements she had decrypted all the mafia gangs passwords and secret codes. The Mafiosi changed their passwords and online communication channels very frequently but she always managed to easily access their system again: each time the mafia guys found out about her intrusion, it was always too late. This was very funny to her: most men think of themselves as big techy dudes but it took her young female brain just a few minutes to decrypt and infiltrate their secret online network every single time. Having shattered another chauvinist delusion made her proud of herself and amused her at the same time: it was always good fun to expose, debunk and deride the stupidity of the false myths on which the male genre has built its fragile confidence! Once she had transferred all the files, the multi-talented girl came back to her defeated enemy: to make sure that he was still totally out, she nudged his massive body with her pretty but deadly foot: with satisfaction, she found out that the once scary Boss was still in the pre-comatose state in which she had sent him a few minutes before. Then, the red-haired beauty tied the man’s hands and ankles with the S&M ropes and laces she found in the room. The brutal male sadist had made use of those things to torture many female sex workers in the past: the time had come for him to be bound and gagged by a woman, before getting atrociously killed under her lovely and deadly female feet. Now the female avenger needed to take her enemy’s body to the place where she was going to inflict the final punishment on him. According to her plan, she was going to use the boss’s own escape route to drive the hideous man to the location of his own demise. She dragged the man’s bloody and ravaged body across the floor of the room . She stopped near a little round trap door which was right in the middle of the bunker’s floor: she left the body of the boss lying there for a moment, face down. The trap door opened into a slide which lead right into the back of a van that was waiting with its back doors open. The van was parked in a tunnel that was running underneath the bunker: the tunnel led to a secret country road hidden by the woods around the house. In this way - as the mafiosi had originally planned - the boss could leave his secret location in a matter of seconds, in case of danger. The macho man would have never imagined that his clever escape plan was going to be used by a young female warrior to take his demolished body to the place of his final demise. It was just one of the many ways in which his superior female opponent had surpassed and outsmarted him…The young woman opened the trap door. She sat between the boss leg's and put both her pantyhosed feet on his big behind. Then she pushed with her legs, making the man fall down the slide, head first. The girl theatrically put a hand on one of her ears and waited, while the man’s heavy body was going down fast: after a few seconds she heard a muffled thud, signaling that the dead weight of man’s body had hit the inside of the back of the van like a sack of potatoes. Hearing the noise of the impact made her smile sassily. It looked like a scene from a silent slapstick comedy film from the early twentieth century. Actually it was another painful torture reserved by this formidable female warrior to her loathed enemy! Immediately after that, the young woman threw herself down the slide too, feet first. She was almost flying, as she slid into the back of the minivan. The boss’s body was lying there, right in her way: the girl’s flying pantyhosed soles impacted against the man’s midsection with a thunderous double kick. The already broken boss had to absorb the full weight of his opponent’s athletic body, augmented by the kinetic energy of the slide. As a result, her pantyhosed female heels sank deep into the man’s midsection: literally, she used him as a mattress to soften her fast slide into the back of the van. It was a tremendous strike. If the girl’s double kick had hit the man in the face, she would have certainly broken his neck, killing him instantly. The young woman warrior knew what she was doing though: she expertly directed her feet towards his abdomen, instead of his face, because she did not want him to die…yet. However, the impact of the girl’s kick was so painful that the almost comatose boss briefly woke up only to let out a moan of utter agony: in a matter of seconds though, the man passed out again, falling into an even deeper state of unconsciousness. The young girl smiled, satisfied for having inflicted some more pain to her foe in such a playful and effortless way. She sat down for a few seconds, with her size 9 feet buried in the boss’s large belly: she looked at his opponent’s portly body, painfully curled around her deadly feet in a foetal position. She had so much hate for this man! She wished she had months or even years to torture him and make his life absolute hell for what she had done to her and her family. He deserved unbearable daily pain all around the clock for at least 12 years, before being executed: the same number of years that had passed since the slaughter of her family. That would have been proper retribution for his crimes. However, that would also have augmented the risk of the police tracking her down and possibly preventing her from killing the boss under her revengeful feet: this thought was utterly unacceptable after all that she had done to be there, face to face with her worst enemy. She knew she had to condensate everything she wanted to do to him in just one night: this is why she had devised a plan that could maximise the quantities of pain she wanted to deliver to her loathed foe within a few hours of relentless female foot torture. Spurred by this urgency, she sprung back into action. She removed her punishing feet from the man’s belly, closed the van’s back doors and jumped into the driver’s seat. The chauffeur who was supposed to drive that van was busy dying atrociously in the garden surrounding the villa: he was the same guy who drove her there. However, the van’s keys were already in the dashboard. They were always there, in case something had happened to the chauffeur and the boss had to drive alone in his escape.

Looking straight ahead, the girl started the engine. Still shoeless, she stepped on the accelerator: another escape tunnel - she thought - just like the one she used when she managed to save herself from the extermination of her entire family. This time it was a different story though. She was not  a scared little child on the run anymore, on the contrary: she was a strong and revengeful woman leading her defeated prey to the slaughter. A proud female warrior on her way to total victory against an army of hundreds of men! She reached the ramp which lead to the end of the tunnel at full speed. The automatic doors opened unto the dark and silent country night: the black van jumped out of the tunnel like a piece of volcanic lapilli coming straight from the depths of hell. When the wheels of the van touched the ground again, the young avenger found herself driving on a country road which was completely dark: the only illumination came from the van’s headlights. The road was surrounded by trees on both sides: she kept on driving without missing a beat. She heard the unconscious body of the boss bouncing all around the back of the van with each bump of the muddy road. This brought a cruel smile on her perfect face as - with a determined look in her eyes- she stepped on the accelerator again, speeding into the dead of night. She used the van’s music player to select one of her favourite songs and blasted it at full volume: it was a track called Dead Men Don’t Rape by all female punk band 7 Year Bitch. The young woman responded to the angry beat of the song by driving even faster into the night.

Scenes from the Villa of Death

Meanwhile, in stark contrast with the heated and loud atmosphere of the young woman’s feisty ride towards the last chapter of her revenge, the atmosphere back at the villa could be described as the proverbial quiet after the storm. Both the house and the big garden which surrounded it were immersed in a death-like silence: in a horrific display, the demolished bodies of four men were lying around the premises. Some of them were already dead and others, like the father and the son whose deathtime had been ‘programmed’ with her masterful ‘Clockwork Feet’ technique by the young female martial arts avenger, were crying in bottomless despair as they watched each other pass away amongst terrible physical and emotional pains. Their female executioner was absolutely indifferent to the devastation and the human tragedies that she was leaving behind her shapely shoulders. None of these male lives were worth looking back on, not even for a second: all these dudes deserved every bit of the suffering she had delivered to them and way more. Anyway, as a naturally superior woman, she was born to step on the bodies of the men she destroyed, ignore their laments as they died  and move on to greater achievements…and speaking of which, there was an important mission that she needed to accomplish before sunrise!

While she was driving, the young woman had a determined look in her feline green eyes and a confident, knowing smirk on her perfect face. With her hands on the wheel and her foot stepping on the gas, she was looking like a ravenous she-devil, leading a damned male soul to his circle of hell for eternal punishment. And that’s exactly what she was, now that the boss was entirely at her mercy! She had already delivered two tremendous beatings to him but she was not content yet: she had more in store for him. She was going to show him as much hell on earth as she could, before sending him to the real place. The anticipation filled the female martial arts girl with an intoxicating mix of excitement and determination which was making her drive as fast as she could. She knew that every minute spent on the road was one minute less in which she could torture the man she had been hating with all her body, mind and soul for 12 years. She was out of the forest now and on an interstate road. That was a very isolated part of the countryside. At that time of night, no one drove there usually: she could go as fast as she wanted with without running the risk of getting stopped by the police. After a few minutes she took a fast turn into another small country road: the turn made the Boss’s big unconscious body hit the side of the truck again. The young woman smiled, as she did whenever the Boss was getting hurt. 

She drove a little bit more into the countryside until she reached what looked like a former industry shed in the middle of nowhere: it was a big hangar, built on the site of what looked like an abandoned mining site. It was far away from any other inhabited town or house, in complete isolation. Her nylon clad foot stepped on the brake and the van stopped in front of the big sliding door of the hangar. Finally, she and the boss had reached the place where the final act of this young woman’s journey to female martial arts justice was about to be celebrated.

Setting the Stage

The young woman got off the van and opened the hangar’s huge metal doors. Then she drove the van inside and parked it near the entrance. She turned on the lights. The place was huge: since it was abandoned, the young woman had broken into it. She had lived there in the previous weeks, when she was planning her attack on the Boss’s secret villa. The girl managed to restore electrical power and running water. In the huge open space, she set up her home gym and everything she needed to get ready for her final confrontation with the Mafioso: the abandoned hangar became her headquarter and her home. For her own living space, she chose a small corner where she put her bed - nothing more than a mattress on the floor - her work desk, an old armchair faced by a footstool and a few hangers for her clothes. Since she had spent the last few years hunting the Mafiosi all over several parts of the world, she had learned to live with very little. Everything else she got besides her every day and training clothes was dictated by the necessities of her various missions against the Mafiosi. Very often, she had to dress up in provocative clothes: from a very early stage of her mission, she had learned that nothing made chauvinistic gagsters let their guard down more than a sexy woman…especially when she had really attractive feet! Therefore she regularly went to Spas and beauty salons, especially in order to get her wondrous feet pedicured. She also had to buy several sets of clothes and dresses so that she could impersonate different types of women from all professions and walks of life during her missions. However, after years in which training in sports and multiple lethal arts had been her only preoccupation, she started liking taking care of her appearance and looking good for herself: moreover, changing her make-up and her outfits all the time – and sometimes having to dress up, like she had done that night – in order to get close to or to hide from her enemies had become one of the funniest aspects of her journey to revenge. A stunning natural beauty in her prime, sometimes she thought to herself that she was going to explore that aspect of her life for her own pleasure, once she had completed her mission. Only after she had completed that most important mission she could start envisaging a different life which would let her experience new feelings and emotions. And now that the boss was in her hands, the female avenger was only a few hours away from carrying out the execution of her loathed enemy and perhaps she was getting closer to  the perspective of a new dawn for her young self. Inspired by the possibilities offered by the hangar location, the young avenger decided that she was going to enact the final stage of her confrontation with the Boss right there. She spent a few weeks preparing the space. First of all, she painted all the walls and the floor white. Then she freed a large space right in the center of the hangar and she delimited it with yellow lines: it looked like a sort of tatami, within the confines of which most of her final fight was going to take place. She restored several industrial lamps that she found around the site: she carefully positioned them all over the hangar, making sure that the place was perfectly illuminated, almost like a movie theatre. In the abandoned mine, she also found a pulley which she hung to the ceiling, right above the ‘tatami' area. Then she built a circus trapeze which she hung from the ceiling too, always above the her self made tatami. She placed it in such a way that she could jump from the tatami, grab the trapeze and swing from one side of the hangar to the other like a circus acrobat. She placed video cameras everywhere, so that each moment of her execution of the boss could be caught on tape for eternity: ultimately, the young woman was setting the stage for the most righteous snuff movie ever made. That huge set had been ready for weeks now, waiting for the action to start: however one important actor had been missing so far. Now that the young martial arts heroine had finally managed to take the main villain on location, the cast was complete. She switched on all the remaining house lights, so that the place was perfectly lighted for the shooting, just like a movie set. Then she activated all the video cameras and pushed ‘record’ on each one of them. The ultimate celebration of the Female Martial Arts Justice saga was ready to begin!

Anticipating Revenge

The fierce female avenger opened the rear doors of the van. In the middle of the cargo area, the massive body of her enemy was lying still. The 21 years old woman warrior observed the dismal state in which her mortal enemy was going to face the final stage of his execution: he was battered, bruised and completely unconscious. The bones in his jaw had been fragmented into tiny pieces by the relentless face kicking of the young martial artist so his mouth was wide open as he slept. What was left of his system was trying to let some air in, as his nose had been repeatedly broken too by the feet of his superior female opponent: pieces of bone, blood and other bodily fluids were obstructing his nostrils, letting very little air into his lungs. The young female martial arts expert was satisfied: she had certainly put her male opponent in a very bad condition but throughout all the previous fights she had masterfully controlled her power thanks to an ancient technique that she learned how to master during her training: she wanted her kicks to be devastatingly painful but not lethal for the Boss. If she had wanted it, she could have killed the massive man with a single kick: however, her plan was to make the boss suffer unspeakably until the very end of her revenge ritual and until the last second of his life. She wanted to make sure that he could savour all of the martial arts tortures she had in store for him in the final act of her revenge. The girl jumped inside the van and sat down behind the back of her enemy: she pushed his big body with both feet, until the man fell heavily out of the van. Then she jumped out, grabbed his ankles and dragged him towards her living space corner of the hangar: as she dragged the boss across the room, her opponent's body was leaving a trail of blood on the floor due to his multiple injuries. When she reached her bedroom area, the girl let the boss’s legs fall to the floor: she turned her attention to her wardrobe but she made sure that her prisoner was always close to her and within her visual range. After the almost fatal mistake she had made at the end of the first fight, she did not want to lose sight of the boss not even for a second. She took off all of her clothes because she wanted to change before her finale confrontation: she got completely naked and the boss would have surely marveled at her perfect body if only he was not lying on the floor, unconscious. She slipped into a stretchy white gym bikini that left her feet, legs, arms, back and belly totally bare: this new outfit presented her sexy and athletic physique in all its power and glory. The young woman’s shoulders were wide and athletic but still very feminine and sensual. Her back was muscular and shapely at the same time. Sculpted by years of relentless hard training, her lower back and her behind were ultra-toned and firm. Below her equally firm 34B breast, a graceful six pack was darting under the silky skin of her tummy. Her legs were imperial: their impressive length was highlighted by the low arch of her white body suit. Those lethal legs looked like powerful, shapely and slender columns made from the rarest ivory, the most precious marble and the softest silk. Her entire body was an ideal combination between sensuality and athleticism, grace and strength, beauty and power: the perfect woman, made to crush men under her feet and rule the world. With her naturally stunning looks she could have been a supermodel or a movie star: many times she had been stopped down the streets by agents of photographers who wanted to sign her. She accepted a few jobs just to earn some money to pay for her living expenses, but that’s all. She also had to defend herself from a couple of male douchebags who tried to sexually harass her during those jobs. After each one of these episodes, these abusers disappeared into thin air and nobody heard from them anymore. Only the young woman knew where they had gone. Let’s say that with her martial arts feet, she made sure that they were not going to harass any other young model, or any other woman for that matter, anymore. She never really pursued those careers because, unfortunately for the 249 gangsters who had already died under her feet, killing and humiliating Mafiosi had been her only true focus in life so far. Equally, with her natural talent for sports, she could have been winning world championships and Olympic gold medals in at least 15 different disciplines (including all fighting sports and martial arts, obviously). But, unfortunately for the mafia boss who was now lying comatose at her feet, her plan was to incorporate techniques and skills from different sports to forge her own unique and unstoppable fighting style. The results of her ten years of constant research and relentless training could now be found all over the crippled, mutilated and deformed corpses of the men who had suffered and died under her feet. Through hard work, intelligence, and determination the scared young child from the night of her family’s massacre had sculpted herself into the most perfect female fighting machine ever. Without letting the boss’s out of her visual range, the stunning young woman rapidly checked herself in the mirror. She liked what she saw. The minimal and stretchy white outfit looked great and gave her all the flexibility she needed for the final part of her martial arts execution of the boss. She chose to dress in white because she wanted to be clinical as a doctor and pure as a pagan priestess for the final act of her sacred mission: after all she was celebrating a human sacrifice that night. A sacrifice designed to quench her thirst for revenge and placate the plight of dead souls which had been violently reaped by the awful man lying unconscious at her feet. She had also removed her sexy black pantyhose: she wanted to feel the impact of the mortal kicks she was going to inflict to the Boss directly on the skin of her feet, without any filter. She wanted to live that moment with the maximum intensity, with every part of her body, brains and soul. Moreover, her used pantyhose was ripped in several points and the nylon was drenched in her own sweat and vaginal juices as well as in her enemy’s blood, semen and several other body fluids and matter she had spilled from him with her kicks. It was disgusting and she was about to throw it away but then her eyes fell on the open mouth of the broken-jawed boss. Another one of her funny idea crossed her mind, making her smile maliciously as she looked back at the pantyhose that she had already balled up in one of her hands. The girl sat down on the boss’s chest and placed on of her feet on each side of his head. Then she put the crotch of her pantyhose under the man’s massive chin. She ran each leg along his left and right cheeks and then tied the feet of the well-used nylons above his head so that the stretchy but strong tissue would keep his jaw in place and his mouth almost shut. Always sarcastic, when she tied the pantyhose above his head, she fashioned the knot in a big girly ribbon: the battered and swollen face now looked like giant – and quite ugly - Easter egg. She always liked adding these ironic and grotesque details to her humiliation of her male enemies, especially when she could show off her feminine side: the combination of her clear superiority in combat and her female quirkiness worked like a charm every time. She loved how her playful girly imagination always came up with the most humiliating and soul destroying ideas for her chauvinistic male enemies. It came natural to her: it was almost as she had been hardwired to destroy male egos and crush the patriarchy under her pretty but deadly feet. As she was still sitting on the man’s chest, she took a picture of her ironic masterpiece: she could not wait for the man to wake up to show him how tragically ridiculous he was looking as he was facing his final judgement. Then, the barefoot girl stood up and dragged the man in front of her armchair, where her footstool was. She positioned the man’s sleeping head on the outer edge of the footstool. She calmly sat down on the armchair, extended her long legs and put her feet on the footstool too from the opposite edge so that her soles were right in front of the man’s sleeping face. She was sitting comfortably, as the bare soles of her lethal feet were almost touching the swollen face of the boss which was resting on his broken chin on the other side of the footstool. In the previous weeks, after her grueling daily combat trainings she loved to sit on that armchair, her feet always resting on the stool after a long session of kicking: that was her favourite place for gathering her thoughts, planning her future attacks on the gangsters and anticipating the moment in which she would finally enjoy her righteous revenge on the boss. And now there she was, sitting there, her legs comfortably outstretched and with the head of the boss conveniently placed right in front of her smooth soles: she was finally living that long sought-after moment and everything seemed to be going exactly as she had planned. It was a perfect occasion and she wanted to savour it, after she had been working towards it for 12 long years. She crossed her ankles for extra-comfort: as she was doing so, she casually touched the broken nose of the boss right with the shapely ball of one of her feet. That contact generated a feeling of triumph and pleasure which rose from her soles and travelled through her entire body: it was just the beginning of how incredibly good she was going to feel while killing this man with her feet. She threw her head back in relaxation, waiting for her enemy to come back to his senses and meet his final judgement.

A Rude Awakening

From an outsider’s point of view the scene in the hangar looked almost surreal. You could see a radiantly beautiful, quasi-naked girl who was resting on an armchair with a beatific smile on her perfect face. Her long alabaster-like legs were stretched and her perfectly designed ankles were gracefully crossed. Her shapely size 9 feet were resting on a footstool. It would have been a perfect image of divine female beauty resting but, right in front of the girl’s smooth bare soles, lied the bloodied face of a horribly battered man: his face was kept together by a knot running under his chin and culminating in a girlish ribbon made of pantyhose. A trail of blood was unraveling behind his cumbersome body, which was lying twisted on the cold floor, in stark contrast with the beautiful physique of the woman royally sitting in front of it. The man’s chin was resting on the same footstool that welcomed the young woman’s feet and his ugly swollen lips were almost touching her soles. It looked almost sacrilegious that the man’s horrible lips could ever share the same planet with those heavenly soles, let alone the same stool: however, that image truly captured the immense superiority of the female gender over the male. Moreover, it perfectly exemplified who was winning and who was inevitably losing in the battle of the sexes between the young female martial arts avenger and the middle-aged male boss. The cameras were filming it all and in the next days the web and the media from all over the world were going to turn that scene one of the most iconic images of the flawless triumph of the female over the male in all aspects of life and society. The victorious young woman took a little time for herself in order to let the reality of what she was achieving sink in properly. Then she decided that the time had come to proceed with the crowning act of her revenge. In order to do so, she needed to make her antagonist finally come back to his senses and fully appreciate the desperate situation he was in. It was time to make the boss wake up and smell the roses…or the soles, to put it more appropriately. The young female sensei had expertly sent her enemy into a pre-comatose state: any medical doctor would have declared the boss cerebrally deceased by that point. However, she had determined her enemy’s condition with ancient secret feet fight techniques that only herself and a few other martial artists in the world had ever mastered: therefore, she also knew only which neural points she needed to trigger to make the boss come back from that almost death like slumber. During her years of training, she learned these techniques so effortlessly that her masters were absolutely shocked by the natural talent of this young girl…and these ancient Senseis were not the kind of people who would be easily impressed. They never had a disciple who was comparable to her: it became clear to them that this knowledge had always been there, slumbering in the deepest recesses of her inner female self. She only needed a few initial hints from her masters to wake up, recapture and smoothly incorporate these ancient skills which were already present within her into her unbeatable fighting arts. It was now time to apply one of those techniques to bring back the boss into some sort of wakefulness. The young female master knew that even the softest contact of her toes and soles against some precise points of her foe’s destroyed face was going to send shocks of pain to his brain which, sooner or later were going to bring him back to a state of consciousness. Even if she was applying complex techniques which belonged to millenary traditions, she always kept a sassy, easygoing  attitude while she was at it: she just had so much natural talent for these arts that she could allow herself a fresh, playful attitude fun even while she was at it. The girl started playing footsie with her prisoner’s sleepy head which was resting on the footstool, right in front of her feet. Watching his enemy’s face contort in clumsy spasms of agony with every touch of her feet amused her and made her giggle. She poked his blackened eyes with her big toes, softly tapped his occipital forehead with the ball of her foot, pinched his nose between your toes to upset his breathing. With each touch of her toes or soles, no matter if hard or soft, the man’s wounds were sending messages of atrocious pain to his neurons: her playful poking was slowly taking the man back from his kick-induced slumber. The same female feet which had repeatedly knocked him out were now taking him back to his senses: this only confirmed the absolute control and domination that the young martial arts avenger had over the middle aged boss. In the obscured mind of the semi-comatose boss, the expert footwork of the young woman was causing electric shocks of pain which flashed through the darkness of his brains like explosions of white light. Finally, the clinical foot teasing of the woman led to the desired result: the man’s blackened and swollen eyes opened up again. It was his time now to wake up after being rendered unconscious by his opponent. Still totally dazed and confused, the man found himself looking at what, at first sight, looked like a smooth soft pink wall: in a temporary loss of memory, he confusedly started wondering where he was and how he got here. However, after a few seconds something made him think that what was on front of his face was not a wall, but something way scarier. The man’s damaged nostrils started to be filled with what, for him, had rapidly become a familiar but terrifying scent. It was an intoxicating mix of female perfume and salty sweat: it was the unmistakable smell of the feet that had destroyed his gang, his body, his mind and his life. The feet of the woman who was hellbent on killing him and that had repeatedly demonstrated to be perfectly capable of doing it with her kicks! With every breath he was taking that frightening scent which was spreading inside of him, filling his oral cavity as well as his lungs and waking his entire body up to the world of absolute pain which he had momentarily left when he passed out. Now all the irreparable wounds that those feet had caused him started aching again: the pain came back, unbearable, all over his body. Once again, the fresh minded young female warrior knew exactly what she was doing. She purposely did not take a shower before changing into her gym clothes: she wanted her enemy to wake up into a world which smelled like his humiliation and defeat. Cleverly, she had learned that the fear of her feet had now crept in deep inside the man’s consciousness, waking up all the male insecurities that he did not even know he had. All the insecurities that centuries of patriarchal society had tried to conceal and that could be easily crushed under the feet of a skilled woman warrior.  Making him sniff the smell of her victorious female feet as soon he woke up was a way of immediately reminding her opponent of the fights that he had already lost and the humiliation he had to endure under the soles of a woman. She had learned that in combat you should make use of all senses to scare, dumbfound and outsmart an enemy: the sense of smell was an earthy, concrete thing that could be used to humiliate and deprive an opponent of all hope. The Boss had to know, see, feel, smell that there was no escape, no quarter from the martial arts feet that had already demolished him and that his male life was only waiting to be crushed under those fighting soles. The Boss actually tried to be in denial that objective reality, at least in his dumb male mind. For a few seconds, the desperate man tried to convince himself that he was still asleep and that he was in the middle of a nightmare: always delusional, he tried to believe that what had happened in the previous fights was just a bad dream and that his formidable female opponent had never existed. What was left of his stupid male ego still couldn’t process the fact that he had been annihilated by a high kicking woman who was supposed to be just one of his many victims. Unfortunately, her unstoppable feet in front of him, their humiliating smell and the incredible agony coming from all over his broken body reminded him that, yes, everything that was happening to him was a terrifying nightmare but it was a terribly true and real one indeed! He had been savagely beaten by a young girl twice and now, as he wakes up, all he can see and smell are the same deadly feet that he had learned to know so painfully well in the past few hours: those inescapable and portentous female feet were his entire world now. There was nothing that he feared more than those feet: as soon as he regained his senses, he could perfectly recognise them, even if his female torturer had now removed her stockings. He remembered how much he was amazed by those feet when she first saw that phenomenal woman to whom they belonged: now that those feet had turned out to be the weapons that reshaped her life, he was even more in awe of them. At that close distance and with he could appreciate their perfection even more: the silky texture of the smooth skin of the soles, the celestial descending order of those slender toes from the big one to the pinky, the shapely  roundness of the heels, the perfection of the balls which looked like soft desert dunes. It was so humbling to think that those stunning lower body parts were also so deadly: it was a combination of beauty and power which was unconceivable by any inferior male standard.  Overwhelmed by the sight and smell of those soles of doom towering in front of his face, hot tears of despair started falling down from the eyes of the boss. The big man began shaking with fear, like a lamb which was being taken to the slaughter. That’s when he heard the sultry but firm voice of the incredible woman addressing him directly.

Reprogramming a Man

‘Wake up, you sleepyhead!’ – the barefoot girl said in a teasing tone, mocking what the boss told her when he briefly managed to have her captive – I guess now it’s time for you to wake up a bit dazed and confused, isn’t it? – she continued – ‘Did you  think this was a just a bad dream, for a second? Don’t you wish that I was just a terrible nightmare? Sorry not sorry, but I am very real and so are these feet that you know very well. By the way, how do you like their smell?' – she laughed – ‘Breathe, sniff, savour my feet! This is the scent of my revenge, of my victory, of my female superiority! – she added in a more serious tone – ‘This is also the smell of your defeat, humiliation and death: it’s all over your body and inside your mind now and you will take it into the grave and beyond. Down in hell, you will smell like my feet for eternity and it will always remind you and whoever you will meet of the way died and of the woman who humiliated you. You should consider it an honour: the smell of my kicking feet after a night of relentless fighting is a most divine perfume, compared to your animal male stink. I hope you realise how privileged you are in this moment. These are the feet that have killed all the men in your family: they are the feet of a woman, never forget that! Now these female feet are about to kill you too: deep inside, you know that all your mafia lives put together are not worth one single drop of sweat between my toes…and yet I am being generous enough to make you sniff my superior soles’. The young woman’s fierce speech sent the man into an even deeper state of distress.  He would have liked to scream in terror and pain but he realised that his broken mouth was somehow kept closed by something running around his face and head. She pointed the toes of her crossed feet outwards so that she could see his prisoner’s face and the boss could finally enjoy the vision of her perfect face and radiant smile. The young woman’s reaction to the sight of his enemy’s face framed between her feet, was in line with her typical soul-destroying sense of humour: ‘Oh my god!’ she sighed as she turned her head to one side while covering her emerald green eyes with one slender hand. She was giggling and there was an expression on her face which was a mix of disgust and amusement: ‘When I wake up I usually don’t look at my best either, but I must tell you that you do have the ugliest morning face I have ever seen, dude!’. She grabbed her mobile phone and put it in front of her eyes. ‘Let me take a picture of your so you will understand what I mean. Smile, please!’. Overwhelmed by her torturer’s attitude, the confused and humiliated man did not immediately react to the command. The young woman replied by scissoring the man’s fractured cheekbones between her feet. ‘I said smile, please!’ she spat with an annoyed tone as her pristine feet were sending shockwaves of pain through the man’s entire nervous system. Fearing even worse punishment from those deadly bare feet, the man rapidly improvised a forced, clumsy and almost toothless smile. ‘Aaawww, There’s my good boy! Look at you!’ - the female warrior said teasingly. She took the picture and looked at it for a second, always giggling. Then she extended her arm forward so that the destroyed man between her feet could see the pic in her phone too. The boss was absolutely petrified by what the photo was mercilessly portraying: his face had been kicked into a formless mass of swollen and bruised flesh. Due to multiple fractures and hematomas, the colour of his skin now ranged from purple to yellow to black. To add insult to injury, his head was wrapped in a festive nylon ribbon made from a pair of female pantyhose: this pretty young woman was destroying and ridiculing him at the same time. There really were no limits to the humiliation he was being subject to. The horrified boss could barely recognise himself in the picture he was being shown: it was clear that not even the best plastic surgeons in the world could have managed to bring that face back to features which would look somewhat human. In another humiliating detail, his face was framed between two pretty female feet: the immaculate skin and pure beauty of those feet created a powerful contrast with the ugliness of the face they were framing. However those pristine feet were the powerful weapons that turned the boss into a freakish monster and that realisation was having devastating effects on the men psyche. The young woman looked at her phone again: ‘Yes, you’re so ugly that I had to put a ribbon on your head to make you a little easier on the eye: you can thank my female touch for it, you fucking tasteless monster!’- fearing for another foot torture from the girl the man whispered an heartfelt ‘Thank you’ between his swollen lips. The woman smirked sarcastically. She was satisfied with the obedience of her once proud enemy and continued: ‘By the way, that ribbon is made with the pantyhose I was wearing when I kicked your ass twice: I thought you would have appreciated another souvenir from me to take with you in hell. I will make sure that you will be buried with it still on your head. You are going to be a laughing stock in hell as well as on earth.’ The man thought about his family members, about the rival gangs, about the people on the street and the media. How would they react to seeing his cadaver being ravaged and ridiculed in such a disrespectful way? In the history of the Mafia, no Boss had ever been shamed and disrespected in such a degrading fashion…and all this was being done to him by a woman! The sarcastic wit of this  pretty she devil was tearing his soul apart just like her kicks had done with his flesh and bones. Letting himself being humiliated like that  by a girl, he was taking the name of his own family to unprecedented lows. Moreover the shame that he was bringing upon himself and his gang would have reflected on the entire organisation: he was going to be the guy whose defeat will destroy the reputation of the entire thousands-year old organisation. That ghastly realisation was making him phisically sick: he felt like throwing up but he knew that his opponent would have reacted brutally if he had stained her pretty feet with his vomit. There he was, a formerly powerful boss beaten, bruised and utterly terrified by a young girl who repeatedly demonstrated to be physically and mentally superior to him. Perfectly aware of the devastating effects that she was having on the man’s psyche and morale with her quirky behaviour, the young girl kept inspecting the picture as she spoke to the man beneath her feet: ‘You should not be so sad about your new face man: no offense, but it was much uglier before my feet decided to reconfigure it in this way. They gave you some free radical plastic surgery so you should be grateful to them. And I’ll tell you what…’ - the girl took a theatrical pause, her eyes looking up dreamingly, as if she was entertaining herself with new ideas - ‘I strongly believe there is still a lot of room for improvement here!’- she exclaimed excitedly. The girl’s latest remark made the blood in the boss’s vein freeze in terror. What she meant was perfectly clear to him. Terrified by the imminence of further beatdowns, he started begging for mercy, pathetically: ‘No more kicks’, the man moaned feebly trough his swollen lips, ‘No more kicks, please...I’ll do whatever you want but no more kicks, I beg you. Please kill me now but no more torture from your deadly feet please’. As a response the young girl started laughing. She threw her head back and relaxed her pointed feet, closing the man’s visual space again. Now all the boss could see were her soles again. Actually, many more kicks, loads of heart shattering kicks, were exactly what the boss’s inexorable female opponent had in store for him in the next few hours. For now though, she wanted to show the world how much this man was ready to humiliate himself to save his life. She was always aware that everything that was happening in that hangar was being filmed and audio recorded: that footage was going to be shared with the world in order to inspire billions of women an terrify entire generations of men. ‘You know– she said casually– ‘my feet are very capricious. They have a mind of their own and they change it very often…but it will take much more than just some feeble begging to convince them that they shouldn’t be kicking you to death. However, if you show them respect, some real devotion, if you let them know how much you fear them, perhaps they will let you go…perhaps’. The almost paralysed man did not need further encouragement. In spite of the pain which accompanied even the slightest movement of his body, he stretched his neck as much as he could to touch his torturer’s soles with his lips: he was painfully going out of his way to worship those feet of fury and doom. Now his entire face was touching those wondrous female soles as a sign of total submission. With his chin still resting on the footstool, he started to worship his opponent’s feet with all the passion and the devotion he had in himself. Incredibly, he started feeling an odd sense of peace as he was paying homage to those fragrant soles: it was almost as if, in his complete, unrestrained submission to the feet of the woman that had defeated him, he had finally reached his proper position and purpose in life. Brought up amongst the staunchest patriarchal misconceptions, the boss would have never thought that one day he was going be repeatedly defeated and humiliated by a young girl who would also make him beg for mercy at her feet. When some of his men suggested that the mysterious exterminator of their gang might have been a woman, he laughed at that idea and ridiculed those who reported it to him. He dismissed the rumour as feminist propaganda from the liberal media which he, a traditional family man, despised. He was convinced that his gang was being attacked by several commandos of fully armed men sent by rival families. The idea of a woman fighter, let alone one who was capable to do any harm to him and his organisation using only her feet as a weapon, was a ridiculous concept to him, a completely unconceivable scenario for his macho mind:…but somehow on that fateful night that crazy concept had become his reality and his entire world. His mind was absolutely blown when he found out that the mighty army that he thought was wiping out his gang was actually made by one single high kicking pretty girl. That most humbling realisation was starting to sink in and it made him feel weirdly peaceful now. Incredibly, he felt that his entire being was accepting his condition of submission to this most formidable woman as the natural order of things. In total surrender to this new blissful state, his injured dick rose uncontrollably into an erection. Before he knew it, the boss started coming again, completely inebriated by the smell, the touch and the shape of those powerful female feet and by the thought of what they were capable of. It was the best, most complete and satisfying orgasm of his entire life: he could not believe that he just reached it for the woman who had physically and mentally destroyed him and who was only minutes away from killing him under her feet. 

(to be continued...)