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Bar talk

A woman explains how she has moderated her man's behavior by using her feet
A conversation between two women, overheard in a noisy bar, "...So how long do you keep him there?"

"It depends. Mostly just like five minutes, but sometimes for a lot longer."

"And he does not object at all?"

"He did in the beginning, but realized he has no choice, really."

"I can't believe this. I never suspected anything like that. How... what kind of relationship do you guys actually have?"

"It's quite normal and boring, really. Much like the way you know us but we do argue a lot, and that's where our differences come out. George is a talker. He has a big mouth and is often the one to start the argument, sometimes over nothing at all, just for the sake of it, almost. He is also a man of peace and would never hurt a fly. You know, the pacifist kind of guy. I love him, but he is a wimp. Myself, I don't like to initiate a conflict unless there is a serious need for it. However, I have temper, I get angry a bit too quickly, and I get physical too easily also. I have slapped his face several times, even punched him. On one particular occasion, I kicked him in the nuts and that's when I realized it couldn't go on like that.

"My god..."

"Yes. It wasn't healthy. He never hit me back, of course. The argument would stop right there, but it only made me feel worse. I didn't know what to do. I knew George would never be able to keep his mouth shut, and it seemed impossible for me to control my temper. Then I got an idea. George has an extraordinary sense of smell. His nose is very good, very tender, which also causes irritation if something smells bad around him. Several times, he has refused to give me a foot massage because my feet were too smelly, even when they were almost fresh form the shower. It occurred to me that I had the perfection weapon. Whenever I slap him, it is out of frustration and because I don't know what else to do. It is because he has me cornered, mentally. I need to let out steam, and I want him to feel the pain that I feel. But I don't really want to hurt him physically.

"So what did you do?"

"I planned it. I bought some handcuffs. Put them in a hidden but accessible place. The next time we had an argument and I felt my temper rising, instead of slapping him, I quickly fetched the handcuffs and locked him to a table. Then I put my feet up, right in his face. He started protesting and talking even louder. I calmly explained that he could go on for as long as he wanted, but my feet were going to stay right there until he would calm down and apologize. I also told him that I would probably do the same thing whenever he acted like an ass.

"What did he do?"

"He couldn't stand it, of course. My smelly nylons were close enough to touch his nose and he couldn't escape it. It was not long before he told me how sorry he was."

"So, problem solved?"

"Pretty much so."

"And you have stopped arguing?"

"George doesn't start as often as he used to. It is almost a shame, because I have come to enjoy this new thing. It's very funny to see him like that, sitting there trapped, and the faces he makes from the stinky odour. My anger disappears almost immediately and it's comfortable too. Have you ever rubbed your toes against a man's nose?"

"God, no."

"The tip of the nose fits right in between the toes, as if it was made to go there. Feels great. You can gently massage your toes and sole. Tickles just a little bit."

"I can't believe he's letting you do this."

"Actually, after I had done it the first time- and this is kind of ironic- a few days later he started complaining about what I had done to him. He said it was disrespectful, stupid, all these things, and kept nagging about it for so long I couldn't help myself. I almost slapped him, but I managed to stay calm and get the handcuffs and lock him down, even though he made a small effort to resist.

My feet were in his face again, the very thing he had been nagging about. They extra smelly this time because I had been wearing boots all day. I couldn't help but laugh, which made him more angry, but again, the foot odour spoke for itself and pretty soon he gave in and kept his mouth shut.

On a different occasion I was so angry I did actually slap him. Hard. And made him smell my feet on top of that. He did not move a muscle to resist the cuffs. It made me feel bad afterwards. However, he learned a lesson. After that he just lets me cuff him right away. When I'm that upset, he knows he just make things worse on himself by resisting."

"Aren't you afraid to push his limits too much?"

"You mean him leaving me? Hah hah, oh no. He loves me. Even though he hates my smelly feet, I think he is thankful that I have stopped hitting him. It only happened that one time. Besides, I don't need to push him much any longer. Just picking up the handcuffs is usually sufficient for him to shut up. But mostly I shove my feet in his face anyway."

I had been sitting with my back against the talking women. I had to turn around and see who they were. The one who was talking about her man was a beautiful red haired lady, tall and dressed in black. The other one was a grey mouse in comparison. However, what puzzled me was the fact that they were not alone. At the table, there was also a man who had obviously not uttered a single word during the conversation. His face was flushing. The red haired lady was looking at him, while he was staring at the table. Or maybe at her feet.

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