Daily Foot in Face, Dec 29, 2011


Hi, Doms and doormats. Here’s today’s look at how I like to use my feet on people’s faces!

Having to put my foot down with Rage.

Ah, Rage. Always a pleasure to wrestle this fat moron. Always losing so badly despite his weight advantage, and despite his moderate wrestling skills. Here, after a brief back-and-forth between us, I immobilize Rage by simply sitting down on his stomach and pinning his ugly mug to the mat with my foot. I don’t think that Rage even saw all my footwork as particularly degrading to him, the innocent lamb.

The Joy of Using My Feet … End of Clip 1


Hi, doormats and Doms.


The past photos I’ve shared have all come from the first clip in the latest AJ series called Victor vs Sparring Partner. I’m spending a little more time breaking down my writing and photo blogging by clips and series of clips until I manage to find a way to create slideshows to upload to the clips4sale site and give people a better idea of the material they are getting. Once I do, I’ll probably go back to a more freeform style of writing and topic-finding.

Here are some photos from the later moments of the first clip:

Mixing it up...


I love to use more subtle approaches on my opponents and keep them guessing. It’s great fun to pin an arm down by stepping on a man’s hand and then crushing his arm under my other foot with most of my weight. The opponent really can’t do much except roll over to his side to try to push you off, but he can’t manage it from his position on the floor. I love letting the man feel my relaxation right through my feet and allowing him to wonder when I’ll be stepping off his arm.


heel stomping his gut


Another way I enjoy mixing it up is by stepping away from the pro-wrestling style footwork and going for some traditional street-fighting beatdown moves. Here, you can imagine me having beaten down AJ on a sidewalk somewhere downtown and then walking up between his legs and just putting my heel down hard into his soft belly and every bit of air being driven out of him. That’s nearly what happened here, where I didn’t use my full strength because I wanted him to be fully responsive to the next tortures I was going to inflict on him.


crotch smother

So, here’s a new trick. I get my legs around my opponent’s head, pull it right between them until their nose is crushed up against my package, and clamp their head in place with my thights. I’m just surprising the shit out of AJ at the moment the photo above was taken. His face is just getting its first up-close-and-personal with my junk. I thought you all might like the bare sole shot as well! And yes, by the way, it’s a pretty big turn on just forcing someone’s face into your groin!

Felating big toe


All good things must come to an end. I like to leave my opponents some steam in order for them to worship me after I’ve defeated them. If I outright incapacitate them, they only thing they are good for is standing on and victory poses, which are great fun in their own right, but today I specifically wanted my big toes sucked! AJ is more than willing to do this once I tell him it’s the last thing he’ll have to do that session, that day.




Wrestling Todd: Barefoot Domination, pt 2


When we left our hero, poor todd, he was in a bit of a fix–literally. His head was fixed in position on the wrestling mat, held against the floor by my foot. He began to make these huge efforts to slide his head out from under my foot. He was sweating so much I had to keep a good hold of him with my toes and drive my foot down hard to match his effort to slip free. Finally, I realized it was starting to cost me as much energy to hold him down as it was costing him to fight me, so I took my foot off him. He came up to his feet just in front of the green chair I’ve now included in all my studio matches. I stood up straight in front of him, not crouched in a wrestling stance to lock up with an opponent. I didn’t have to. todd’s energy was just about spent, and I could take my time deciding on how to defeat him. He was just waiting for me to attack, and hoping to get some of his wind back as I did.

I pushed him back into the chair with my foot in his gut. Then I leaned into the man, one foot in the middle of his chest. Slowly, I began to give his chest soft, rhythmic presses, pushing down on his sternum and compacting his chest, matching my pressure to each time he inhales, denying him a full inhalation on every beat. He smiled at me as soon as he realized what I was doing to him, and how it was working to keep him from bouncing all the way back in this contest.

Why don't you just take a break, sport?

I stayed with his breathing for over a minute, and he was getting desperate to get his full wind back. Whenever you have an opponent in a compromising position, I’ve learned it’s best to vary the kind of stress or pressure you keep him under–the better to confuse his efforts at finding at way of escape and shorting him of the time to think of something tricky.

Below, I’ve changed tactics but maintained my strategy of keeping him defensive by denying him unrestricted breathing.

todd ... wishing he was back on the mats...

Extending my toes fully the way I’m doing above draws all the tendons and muscles in the sole of my foot taut, and makes the point of contact between my heel and the ball of my foot much less soft and forgiving. I plant my foot right over his throat and push hard, sometimes on his Adam’s apple, making him choke, and sometimes on the throat itself, strangling his breath.


Finally putting my foot down with todd...


Todd managed to slide free of my choke by eventually grabbing my toes and heel and pushing my foot away hard enough to get his throat clear. I had to punish him for that success. I always try to work on a rewards and punishment system, using energy-bleeding but mostly painless holds as a reward for not fighting back too hard and using painful holds and strikes to punish opponents for escaping the holds and pins. Here, I sandwich todd’s little head between the hard arm of the chair and my foot. I’m pressing hard, hard enough to feel his teeth right though his lip just under the arch of my foot. I love this photo; it shows such mastery and control of my opponent, and all so simply and brutally accomplished–just my foot crushing the poor man’s head.


Further punishment for the ego and pride

Usually I never apply a humiliating hold unless it’s also working my opponent hard with pain or a drain on his energy. This move is doing very little other than humiliating todd. My big toe forced into his mouth. And by the way he’s recoiling from my foot as hard and fast as he can, I can appreciate how mortifying this move is to experience for him. He’d signed on for a foot domination match, but he didn’t expect me to make good on my promise of actually getting my foot into his mouth! Delicious.

The first video can be found here.



Daily Foot in Face, Aug 2, 2011: New wrestler Todd


Sit right down in the comfy chair!

Introducing Todd, my latest opponent. I’ve also added a new piece of setting to my apartment studio–a simple, worn leather chair that I accidentally discovered could be very useful in roughing up an opponent! I had been trying to pull Todd into me, to get my legs around his waist for a body scissor, but he pulled back hard enough to stay clear. So I drew on my judo background and added my strength to his and pushed! My feet sent him sprawling backwards into the chair. After softening him up with a few stomps into his stomach, I soon found that the chair put my opponent in all manner of tempting positions for administering a kick, stomp, or trampling! It was a glorious epiphany!

In the photo above I’m crushing his head against the firm arm of the chair with my foot. It works perfectly well given my height at six feet even. I promise, you’ll soon be seeing more of this chair in my matches with Todd and other new opponents.

Love to all,

Victor B

Inflicting Pain with My Bare Feet as Humiliation

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How does that feel, monika darling?

Continuing on my theme of pain and suffering as part of the foot domination I so love and enjoy, I invite you to contemplate the photo above. I’ve got monika maple’s head under my foot and I can tell you that I kept stepping down on it long after this photo was taken. Her face was already read and grimacing from the pain. In another few seconds she began screaming for me to stop. There’s my passion captured perfectly.

My foot grinding down on a person who has had time to figure out what’s happening to them and how helpless they are. The music of their cries and protests and the poetry of their struggles to escape are what I live for.  

Let me leave you with one more perfect picture of pain:

Standing on a training partner, all my weight one foot--on his jaw.

I have to say that brutalizing men with my feet must be my slight preference over women. They guard their dignity so much more fiercely than most women. I was on Troy’s face (above) with both my feet for a good ten seconds without him making a peep. It was only when I picked up my right foot, letting all my weight press down on his lower jaw that he yelled his submission and cried for me to get off.

Love you you all, Doms and doormats alike,


Victor Black’s Bare Feet Used To Brutalize and Humiliate Men!




Me putting my foot down with this joker. He's sure not putting up much of a fight...

One of my favourite cartoons of all time is Popeye, especially the old black and white ones from the 50s and the early colour ones from the 60s. Naturally, Bluto (or Brutus as he was once known) is a huge role model for me (or at least for my erotic persona). He was a big, muscular grown-up bully who routinely beat the daylights out of Popeye to gain his objective, which was Olive Oyl, more of than not. A typical cartoon would set up with Bluto intercepting Popeye on the way to call on Olive by starting a fight with him or, even better, sneak attacking him in some horrendously violent way. He’d be waiting on top of Olive’s house and would wait for Popeye to ring the doorbell, then jump down onto Popeye’s head with both feet, driving Popeye right into the ground and, standing on Popeye’s head, would greet Olive as the she opened the door.

Bluto often used his feet to lay heavy damage on Popeye. It was Bluto whom I first saw committing absurd acts like jumping with both feet on Popeye’s head, kicking his prone face with all his might and sending Popeye through some goal posts, et cetera.

I used to be quietly turned on by watching these violent scenes as a child. From an early age I took a great interest in schoolyard fights when one boy greatly overmatched another and would bloody him some before the teachers could arrive to break things up. I still remember a kid named Jason (a medium-sized boy, but very mean) fight Kenny, a big, spastic misfit, and punch him enough time that Kenny curled up in a ball to protect himself. After trying to wrestle Kenny out of the turtle position without success, he changed tactics.

He walked up to Kenny, stood over him, and stepped on the side of Kenny’s head with his shoe and pressed down on it. Kenny freaked out and started to get up from the ground onto one knee. Jason didn’t hesitate. He kicked Kenny right in the nose as hard as he could. You could hear the thud the toe of his shoe made on Kenny’s face. Next thing I knew, Kenny leaned over and blood began to pour from his nose and spatter the asphalt. Kenny started to make this wild shrill wailing sound, and the fool didn’t even put his hands over his nose to slow the bleeding–just let it pour out of his nose as a ring of children looked away in horror or shock.

I watched Jason take just a step back. The humour had left his face. He knew the spectacle would bring a teacher soon and see him in heaps of trouble. But I knew Jason would be making jokes and telling stories about it all the next day. Jason wasn’t sorry. He was delighted. He’d not only beaten up another boy, but he’d been able to take his time with an already beaten boy and think up what kind of degrading act of violence he could inflict on the boy to see to it that no one would forget the spectacle of the deed or the sight of Kenny’s pain, blood, and horror at his injury.

This was the kind of sadism which, in sexual fantasy, I admired, lusted after, and constantly reworked in my head.

And then came pro-wrestling, in the glorious 80s. This was the era of the squash match, when jobbers with tacky names, outfits, and appearances would wrestle brand name wrestlers and be beaten soundly by them. When the brand name wrestler was a heel, or bad guy type, he was invariably a bully, who spend the match dominating the other wrestler completely, generally using vicious cheating tactics and dishing out humiliating holds long after the point when he could have won the match.

This became the next big visual and dynamic source for my imagination. I’d watch wrestlers stomping each other repeatedly, grind the bottom’s of their boots on the other wrestlers forehead, step on their prone throat. It was all delicious.

Me getting comfortable on this jobber's chest. Don't know what I feel like doing with him yet, but it'll come to me!

I’ve since nurtured and evolved my bullying themes and fantasies in various genres, from superheroes to pornography. But I’ve always taken a special delight in using my feet to add insult to injury. Something about using your foot on someone expressed so many things. I’m unbeatable. I don’t have to try hard to utterly dominate you. I can afford to keep my hands free while I beat on you with my feet. I can ignore the usual rules of the competition and just stand on you while your down to make my point: I can manhandle you at will. And my favourite point that using my feet makes: I can treat you like dirt by putting the lowliest part of my body right in your face, and you won’t be able to stop me!

I’ll aways remember the words O’Brian, the party member and thought cop of The Party in Orwell’s 1984, said to Winston, the helpless hero. To paraphrase very loosely, he said, “Suffering is mandatory. Otherwise, how would you know you were exercising power over someone? What you are ordering them to do might be their secret wish. Only by making someone suffer are you sure you are controlling them, because they must be undergoing something or doing something against their will.”

That’s the secret of suffering. And it’s one of reasons why pain and violence have always been so seductive to me. It’s really a power trip to be able to step on someone’s face, leave your foot there long enough for a man to realize you’re degrading him by using his face to step on, and then push down hard on that man’s face to keep him wriggling in a horribly humiliating position.

Actually, I've always been fond of going one step further than merely holding a man's head pinned to the ground with my foot; I love to actually stand on his face with both feet! That turns my opponent into a conquered piece of ground, not even worth talking to or looking in the eye as I wrestle him.

So, that’s whyI love violence, wrestling, and why I love to use my feet for both! But there’s more to add to this verdant topic … Different uses of my feet say different things to an opponent–especially a male one. I’ll be focussing on this in part two.

Love to all, Doms and doormats,

Victor Black

Trampling a male wrestler, pt 2


moving from a victory pose to a full facestand.  Tom was downright shocked I was going to go through with it.

When we left our struggling hero Tom, he’d turned an important psychological corner in his match with me. He been put on the mat, his back stood on in a humiliating fashion, and finally, pinned to the ground and held by a hammerlock, he’d had his face repeatedly mockingly pressed on the whole time by my foot. He’d smouldered and could do nothing about my mocking of him. During that time, he’d gotten as mad as he could get without the submissive, wimpy side of him taking over and beginning to find something perversely appealing about being manhandled so completely.

In the photo above, I’d been standing on his chest and stomach, arms crossed in a victorious pose on an all but beaten man. I could feel all his muscles working simply to support my weight, but no effort to jostle me off his chest. His will to resist me had been broken–broken quickly and thoroughly. This is the part of the match I truly relish, when a living opponent becomes a plaything to use to demonstrate my dominance and the extent of my will to humiliate another person. I decide to stand on this man’s face, and begin feeling out the side of his face and head for bone structure and the best foothold. His cheekbones are quite sunken, offering no solid spot for the ball of my foot. With low cheekbones, I find the ball of my foot tends to lay over the orbital bone, a sensation that isn’t my favourite. So I look for something else. Tom is groaning in surprise at what I’m doing, and just starting to realize I’m not just playing with his face, I’m preparing to stand on it!


Another try from the side.

It can be awkward moving from a man’s chest to his face if he has as much of a barrel chest as Tom. I dismounted, and tried a first step onto the side of his face, toes just under the temple. I could feel him surrendering to my intention to damn well get up on his ugly, unshaven mug, and the only resistance this very strong young man is putting up isn’t really resistance at all–it’s his left hand, fingers digging into the mat to cope with the pain of half my weight crushing the skin of his cheek against his cheekbone. Delightful! The higher the cheekbones, the more pain this causes.

Right on there, one-footed

Although you can’t see my other foot, I’m actually standing on this lad full weight, with just the one foot. My big toe is curling just under his nose to keep me from sliding any further forward, and in a second or two, my foot is going to slide painfully further down his cheek. I’m having a really good time of it now, as you can see by the smirk on my face. I love to have a big, meaty guy like this to sink my bare feet into!

If you’re enjoying this photo entry, you might want to download the video as well. It’s here.

End of part two.

Trampling a male wrestler, pt 1


both feet

These photos are captures from my first male vs male wrestling clip, shot at my home studio here in Toronto. This poor guy, a 23-year-old named Tom, answered an ad for wrestling partners and totally misread it. He showed up at my studio expecting to play a “heel,” or, in pro-wrestling parlance, a bullying villain who cheats like hell and uses all kinds of vicious moves intended to hurt and injure rather than only defeat an opponent. I’d specifically said in the ad that I needed wrestlers to play “jobber,” or naïve kickbag, to my “heel.”

He was disappointed, I could tell, but agreed out of interest to stick around for the session and try it out. He wouldn’t be coming back, suffice it to say. Once I’d gotten a feeling that he was beginning to resent my going out of my way to use my bare feet on him, I decided to ramp up my footwork to see if I could break him.

 balancing myself

In the early going, I had no trouble putting him down on his stomach and then pinning him down with one knee or one foot on his back. From there I’m quick as a cat to get both my feet on a pinned opponent. Tom spent a lot of the time in the position above, me on his back, his lips kissing mat. I could feel him getting tense the third time I wrestled him down onto his stomach only to stand on him one more time. He was beginning to sense this was some kind of fetish ingredient in the “heel” spectacle. He was right, of course.

face = gas pedal

This was the point where I was most expected him to get up and quit. I’d put him down pretty hard, had him in a hammerlock and completely at my mercy, and then I reached forward with my foot and stepped on the side of his face. He was just about smouldering at this point, and there was anger behind his struggles to escape the armlock. I gently but firmly pressed his arm into his back, not pushing it farther up his back, but driving it into place against his struggles to free it. I also gave him my first non-verbal taunt–I pressed on his cheek repeatedly, stepping down with the ball of my foot and toes on his face, then easing the pressure, waiting, then stepping down again, like I was pumping a gas pedal.

pumping the brake

Have a look at his face under my foot. He looks uncomfortable, and he is so, but most of this grimace is smothered anger. I’m beginning to not only pump my foot on his face but also smear the sole of my foot forward and up his cheek, making a scratching sound against his beard and tickling my foot. He’s as mad now as he was going to get that day. If he didn’t quit now, he would make it through anything else I decided to put him through.

You can buy the clip here.

Part 2 coming soon…

Standing Barefoot on People’s Faces! (Oct ’08 wrestling match memoir)

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 Getting up onto bitch's face

It was amazing how quickly I became comfortable throwing Monika around the ring, stomping on her hard enough to make slapping sounds and leave actual pale discoloured footprints on her skin. One of the biggest tests of that afternoon was to bring myself to actually stand on poor Monika’s face.

Feeling for a better foothold...


When you think about it, it takes quite a bit of trust and generosity to let a stranger, however much you might hit it off with him and be left with an impression of decency and professionalism regarding him, actually stand on your face with both feet and with all his weight. I weighed 175lbs at the time (I weigh about 195lbs now), so despite my typically slim appearance, I carry a fair amount of muscle, especially in my legs. Monika would have been keenly aware of how deceptively heavy I was when she agreed to let me try to stand on her face. After all, I’d just spend the past twenty minutes standing on her buttocks, thighs, back, and chest.



I had a good idea of how to do this without hurting someone. I’d practiced it on this fat girl named Kelly, a big red-head Judo student in my class during my teens. I’d been developing the dominant side of my sexual imagination, and began to find using my feet on women extremely erotic. I sensed that Kelly had a crush on me, so I exploited it by continually spending time working on judo techniques with her before and after class and slipping in some purely degrading “techniques.” I told her I wanted to try some new groundwork holddowns. I explained to her that I wanted to see if I could work from a reverse schoolboy pin (me straddling her chest with my knees planted on the mat on either side of her, but backwards, so that my package and ass hovered over her face) to a more punishing holddown that would be harder to escape.

When she asked what I wanted to do, I told her I wanted to get up from the mat from a reverse schoolboy position and then put one foot and then the next on her face and then move my hands to her stomach, so that most of my weight was on my hands and my feet were mostly being used just to control her head, not support my bodyweight. I remember her looking nervous and asking, “So you want to stand on my face–with both feet? How about you only try one?”

I assured her that there wouldn’t be much weight on her face, and that spreading my weight over both of my feet and all of her face would make it feel much less uncomfortable–more or less like I was covering her face firmly with my hands. She looked nervous, and I simply waited for her to make up her mind, letting her worry over disappointing me build and make her decision for her.  

She simply nodded nervously, and I squatted over her putting my hands on her belly, and then set to work figuring out how to stand on someone’s face in some way in which they’d let you do it again in the future–or at least not sue you for inflicting serious bodily harm! I was playful and experimental about it. There were only the instructors left in the dojo office, out of sight. I decided to start with my toes and put them on one side of her face, so that my toes pressed between her lips and my heel, once I arched my back into something like a Downward Dog yoga position, should ease onto her forehead, where I wanted most of my weight to be. I felt her breathing nervously; moist breath moved through my toes. I arched my back, and then all at once got the other foot on her opposite cheek and my heels came down and rested heavily on her forehead. For an uncomfortable moment, I had to strain to shift my weight back and forth between my hands, pressing on her belly, and my feet, right on her face. My body shook with the effort to keep only about half of my weight on her face and also keep my balance and keep one foot from slipping off. Right away, the challenge was keeping a good foothold on her forehead and using my big toe to keep the front of my foot from slipping down her cheek to the mat. As I pressed both of my big toes down hard to keep my feet together, she made a little yelping noise and, rather than simply let me feet slip off her, I asked, “Are you all right?”

To my surprise, she said “Yef” through lips pressed tightly to her teeth. And I found my balance and a good enough foothold to stay on her for a good thirty seconds (I watched the second-hand). I had enough time to ask her to try to throw me off. She wriggled hard and had more luck making my hands lose their grip than my feet. I had enough time to savour the experience, the feeling of my clammy feet on her warm, freckly face, and it stayed with me and turned up in my dreams for years and years.

After this first experience, I had somehow earned Kelly’s trust. I guess being willing to risk hurting someone, taking that risk, and bringing the person through it unharmed is a valid way to earn trust in people who either really don’t value themselves or have a crush on someone which they lose all perspective on. I suspect it was a mixture with Kelly. Kelly soon let me prop myself up on her with my hands walking me up her stomach to her chest, which had me almost standing on her face with full weight. My hands weren’t doing much other than helping me balance and providing a security blanket for Kelly in assuring her that, as much weight as she might be feeling right on her pudgy face, I was controlling that weight carefully and must not be adding it all. 

I did this exercise with her three weeks in a row (we had class every Thursday). Each time I walked my hands up farther, until I was so bold as to encircle her big breasts with my fingertips. My feet were almost flat on her face, and my hips were positioned almost parallel to my feet. Essentially, I was doing a toe-touch stretch on her face, but instead of touching my toes, I was bent over holding on to her tits. It was a huge turn-on to know that almost none of my weight was supported by my hands, that I was in every practical sense standing on her face full-weight.

What I’d learned was to keep my feet squeezed together to keep them from slipping sideways off a person’s cheeks, which they invariably do if you don’t apply effort to keep your insteps and ankles touching. By keeping my heels on Kelly’s forehead, she’d been able to bear my weight, albeit uncomfortably, a long time and without my leaving any marks or bruises. (Though you do have delightful while prints left from all the blood being forced from the area! Those last several minutes!) Last, you need to keep a little weight on your toes and the balls of your feet, both because you can’t balance on rounded heels alone, and because you can’t let all your weight fall on just two small points on someone’s forehead and expect them not to complain.

In case anyone is thinking of casually standing on their partner or boyfriend or girlfriend, please bear in mind that Kelly was exceedingly generous, infatuated, and very tough, even for a tomboy. What I did would have had other girls crying, even if a single one would have agreed to anything as absurd as letting someone stand on your face with both feet!

Returning to Monika, she was nothing like Kelly. She wasn’t then or at any other time infatuated with me. She has loads of self-esteem. And she isn’t a pudgy tomboy who struggles to meet men–far from it! What she had in common was a toughness rare to find in men or women, an open-minded thrill-seeking approach to life, and an ever-broadening interest in fetish and fantasies. If you’re reading this, Monika, you’re fantastic! God know how many other people whose faces I’ve stood on have been emboldened to let me do it by your shining, sexy, sublimely submissive example! Thanks for being such an amazing part of my ongoing Barefoot Bully adventures. I’ll leave you with some photos of this rare pearl of a woman as I wrestle her to the mat and stand on her.

Trying one position on the bitch


Notice how I’m facing the opposite way I describe above, with my toes pointing to her head instead of pointing to her knees. This method of standing on someone’s face works, too, and it’s become my favourite, for reasons I’ll discuss in another post. I’m also stepping down on the side of Monika’s lovely face; if I stood on her this way, I’d have to be careful not to put too much pressure on her lower jaw with my heels and keep most of the weight up near her temple on the balls of my feet.

Both feet almost on bitch's face, using my hands for balance only.


I’ve almost got the sweet position. My big toe is just curling over her chin for grip on it. I’m only using the ropes to keep me balanced until I get my other foot in place next to my first one. Look at Monika. What trust and guts she has, eh? Her hands rest under her chin, not even reaching for my ankles to take some of my weight off her face.

Both feet on bitch's face, but not quite lined up together neatly


Wow. Look at that. I’ve got full weight on her, and even though my left foot is starting to slip off her face, quite painfully, I might add, Monika is actually smiling. She’s very comfortable with pain, so this level of discomfort, having one side of her face almost smeared off, is far from the worst pain she’s dealt with.

Sweet spot! Both feet happily meeting over bitch's lips

Again, wow. I’ve got both feet in a comfortable (as comfortable as 175lbs on your lips can get) position for Monika, and I just enjoy myself, wiggle my toes, and make little shifts of my weight on her face, just to be playful and sadistic. These little adjustments of my weight and foot position would be extremely painful to someone without Monika’s toughness, but she’s doing fine. Her face was flushed in the cheeks afterwards, and she was grinning ear to ear at the thought of what she’d been through, but she was none the worse for wear. I got the pleasure of seeing my footprints start to form on her forehead and above her mouth and chin.

Bye for now!


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