Date: Tue, 18 Apr 2017 19:43:31 +0000 (UTC) From: J H Subject: Living Under the Boot of Rick ? Country Boy Domination |Part VII Living Under the Boot of Rick – Country Boy Domination |Part VII Author: JB jbcountry@yahoo.com [Please feel free to email comments.] NOTE: All characters portrayed in this story are a work of fiction. It contains ideas and scenarios sexually graphic and intended for a mature (18+) reader only! **We all enjoy the freedom to indulge our fantasies due to the efforts and expense of Nifty.org. I encourage you to donate to Nifty at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html so that they may continue the cause** Part VII Monday morning Tommy sat sleepily at his desk for his first class. He did not sleep well. The problems he thought he had with Jack paled in comparison to his new problem with Billy. To make matters worse Billy taunted Tommy with a text first thing in the morning. (Tommy figured he stole his number from Rick's phone.) The text was the pic of Tommy licking his boots on the fender of the four wheeler with a caption: `My Boot Bitch!!' The only good thing is you could tell that they were Billy's boots; except Rick would know. That made Tommy very anxious. When the teacher started his lecture Tommy had to touch his face. He was haunted by his dream; not that anyone would notice. The entire class seemed to be paying little attention to anything except the two big headlines circulating throughout the school. The first was big gun hunting season was fast approaching. All the guys were bragging about their previous kills and the `monsters' they planned to bag in the upcoming season. The other big news story involved Jack. Apparently Evan, one of the preppy boys on campus, supposedly made a move on Jack's girl. Naturally she felt guilty and told her jock boyfriend. They planned to settle their problem at the city park that evening. Tommy was intrigued but decided to stick to his plan and stay away from Jack. During lunch Tommy sat and ate by himself (as usual.) He was eavesdropping on the table next to him. Several of the `preppy' juniors ate there and they were discussing the upcoming fight. "Evan will get his ass handed to him." "I dunno, Evan is a black belt. I bet he pulls some sick kung fu shit on his dumb ass." "It will be a good fight. Are you going?" "Hell yeah." The conversation tapered off to some small time `gentleman's bet' as to who the victor would be. `A black belt,' Tommy thought to himself. Perhaps he may make an exception to his new rule. He would enjoy watching Jack getting his ass kicked. Tommy thought that if there was a crowd he could blend in and watch. After all he was getting used to late nights at the barn. Tommy arrived at the park early. He found a quiet place to read. It was a big park but he learned that all school fights occurred in a remote area near the tennis courts. When the time came Tommy was glad he arrived. It appeared that the entire school showed up for the main event. He watched from a distance. He could see Ethan jumping around his friends apparently warming up or getting psyched or whatever guys do before they fight. He was rooting for Ethan but seeing him in his pristine under armor hoodie and sweats made Tommy doubt his chances. He looked to fresh and clean to battle. Ethan had no skoal ring tattered jeans and his chest did not come close to filling out his hoodie. Everything about Ethan was far too clean. `Oh shit,' Tommy thought, `black belt or not; he's gonna get fucked up!' Before long several trucks pulled up over the street curbs and lined the park. `The jocks were here,' Tommy thought. Rick's truck pulled in behind Jack's. Jack's girlfriend exited the cab of the truck and she followed behind him. Rick and the other players followed Jack down to the area where honor was at stake. The crowd began to create a circle around the two guys so Tommy made his move to blend in the sea of spectators. Tommy rolled his eyes at all the drama. He decided that a concession stand would clean up here. Jack swelled up like a bull and faced Ethan. With a hardy push Jack said, "What's up now bitch!" Ethan fell back a couple of paces but quickly regained his balance and jumped into a fighting stance. Jack was not intimidated and stepped close to Ethan inviting him to swing. Ethan did and it was an epic failure. Jack deflected Ethan's strike with his left arm and landed a strong punch to Ethan's stomach. The impact cause Ethan to double over. Jack grabbed him behind the head with both hands and forced his head into his advancing left knee. Ethan fell to the ground. "Get up bitch!" Jack commanded. Ethan started up. His nose was bleeding and the breath was knocked out of him. With lightning speed Jack land right hook and Ethan went down again. Tommy watched in awe. Ethan slowly got on all fours when Jack kicked him in the gut; hard with a fierce impact. (Fortunately Jack was wearing his Nikes and not his boots.) Ethan rolled over with a loud moan clutching his face with both hands. Jack went down forcing his knee in Ethan's chest ready to strike again. "That's enough!" Rick commanded. Jack turned his attention to Rick. "He's down. He's done." Rick said. Jack stood back up, spit on Ethan, and said in a loud voice, "Some black belt motherfucker." The jocks gathered around Jack and Rick with grunts of victory and the spectators began to leave. A couple of Ethan's crew tended to their defeated friend. Tommy thought he saw Jack's girlfriend give Ethan a pitied look. Ethan did not see it though; he was still on the ground wallowing in pain and defeat. It was not the ending Tommy hoped for. It did however reinforce his new rule: stay the fuck away from Jack. If Rick hadn't intervened he was sure Ethan would leave the park in an ambulance. Later at the barn Rick made an appearance. Tommy was surprised to see him. He figured they would be off celebrating Jack's victory. Rick did not speak to Tommy at first. He checked on Tank and gave him some horse treats. On his way out he stopped by Tommy and asked, "Did I see you at the park today?" `Fuck,' Tommy thought, so much for him being inconspicuous. "Yeah," Tommy admitted in a low, somewhat frightened voice. "Why did you go?" "Just curious I guess." Tommy admitted. Rick said, "Oh I get it; you wanted to see Jack get his ass kicked." "What; no!" Tommy lied although he knew as Rick would know better. Much to his surprise Rick laughed. He actually laughed and said, "That's the manliest thing I've ever seen you do." Tommy breathed a loud sigh of relief. "Of course you know I have to tell Jack; right?" Rick said. "He'll be pissed!" Tommy froze. In a panicked voice he begged, "Oh please don't! He hates me already." "There's the little girl bitch I know." Rick said amused, "Your secrets safe with me." Rick started to walk out of the barn and commanded, "Tank shit a big pile; take care of it." "Yes sir," Tommy replied. And then Rick left. Tommy gladly picked the pile out of Tank's stall. He was impressed by his master. He was everything a man should be: strong, confidant, capable, strict, but not devoid of mercy. He looked forward to the next time he could be of service to Rick. Just the thought of Rick commanding Jack aroused Tommy. Tommy looked at Tank and recalled how he commanded his horse as well as people. Just two of Rick's livestock; which he rode hard, were caged together. Tommy was rock hard. He glanced around the stable hallway and pulled out his little boner from his jeans. Tank was paying him no attention munching on some hay. Tommy rubbed his penis on the side of Tank's front leg. The sensation nearly caused him to blow his load. Tommy placed his left hand on Tank's shoulder and held his dick with his right hand. Tommy couldn't take it anymore; he stroked his little penis until he creamed. What a rush. When he was finished, Tommy opened the stall door to exit and was startled by Billy who snuck up on him. "Geez Billy," Tommy gasped, "you scared the shit out of me." "Sorry boot boy," Billy said, "Whatcha doing?" Tommy's heart pounded in his chest. Did Billy catch him in the act? He replied as calmly as he could, "Just finished picking Tank's stall. I'm about to head home." His voice cracked. "Really?" Billy asked with a raised eyebrow. "Yeah," was all that Tommy could think to say. He picked up the muck bucket and started to walk away. "Because," Billy paused and Tommy froze in his tracks, "it looked like you were fucking Tank." `I'm fucked,' Tommy thought. "I suppose you don't want Rick to know that." Billy said. "And I have a pretty clear video on my phone." Billy waved his phone in the air. "What are you gonna do?" Tommy asked with his a trembling voice. "It's not what I'm going to do; it's what you're gonna do." "Which is?" Tommy asked defeated. "Any fucking thing I tell you to do that's what." Billy commanded. Billy looked around and thought for a moment. He then commanded, "Lay down on your stomach. Stretch your arms and legs out." Tommy didn't know what to say. He reluctantly complied. He just begged, "Please Billy, Rick will kill me." Billy was standing beside Tommy looking down on him. "You're sorry alright bitch. You broke the rules; the `no fucking the horses' rule; you freak!" "I didn't fuck the . . ." Tommy was silenced by a swift kick to his side. Billy's boot struck him with force. The pain caused a loud grunt from Tommy. Billy was wearing an Ariat western work boot. They have a heavy sole which are unforgiving. "Shut the fuck up and don't argue." Billy insisted, "You broke the rules; now I need to punish you. Pick your head up freak." Tommy complied. Billy walked to the front of Tommy stepping on his hand as he fetched the muck bucket. Billy held the bucket over Tommy standing between his outstretched arms. `He's gonna pour horse shit on me,' Tommy thought. The only contents in the bucket was Tank's fresh pile Rick had told him to get out of the stall." "Keep your head up boot boy," Billy instructed as he turned the bucket over. Tommy could hear the fresh, wet road apples plop on the ground in front of his face but none hit him. The pile was slightly scattered between his arms in front of his face. It was still warm and steamed in the cold air. "I got your back Tank; he will learn manners," Billy said as he slowly walked beside Tommy. Billy knelt down putting his knee in Tommy's back. He grabbed Tommy's hair at the back of his head. Tommy's heart raced. "Open your disgusting, boot licking mouth and prepare to pay." "Billy." Tommy begged. "Last chance motherfucker; open your mouth or I go show Rick my latest vid! I might just post it on my twitter for the whole county to see!" Tommy sobbed and opened his mouth a little. "Wider faggot," Billy said pulling his hair harder. Tommy did and with a single thrust Billy forced his head into the Tank's fresh pile of shit. Billy held it there for several seconds. Finally he said, "Don't even fucking think about spitting anything out of your mouth." With that warning Billy let go and stood up and said, "Now clean that shit up." Tommy had fresh horse shit stuck to his face and teeth. Most of it remained smash on the stable floor but Billy held him down long enough for a single road apple to lodge in his mouth. It was the most disgusting sensation and taste Tommy could imagine. He fought all his senses to not spit it out or puke. Tommy started to get up but Billy kicked his supporting arm out from under him. He nearly landed face first back in the horse shit. "Stay down faggot; use your hands." Billy instructed. Tommy sighed. He could not believe this was happening. He started scooping the smash pile up with his bare hands and placed it back in the muck bucket. When he was done he remained on his knees. Billy stood over him and said, "Smile for the camera." He did not smile but Billy took a couple of shots of him. Billy offered a proud smile. He was in alpha heaven. He was in complete control and he knew it. Tommy had no choice now but to obey. Billy put his phone in his jacket pocket and waved his right boot in the air stomping in down. "Kiss it." Tommy did. "Again." Tommy whimpered and kissed it again. "Again," Billy commanded, "keep your lips on it until I tell you to stop." Tommy did as told. He planting his lips on Rick's sadistic brother's boot and waited. "That's it boot boy; I love feeling you lips on my boot. Don't worry if you get some horse shit on them," Billy said, "you can clean it off later when your tongue is not coated in shit. Did you learn a lesson about fucking the horses?" "Yes," Tommy replied muffled with his lips planted on his boot. "I own you now," Billy said in a commanding voice. He forced his boot up and off of Tommy's face. Tommy felt it split his lower lip but he did not care. That was the least of his worries. Back on his knees he watched as his new young terror in his life stroll away saying, "Later fag." Billy's middle finger was extended in the air as he left. Tommy remained on his knees in disbelief for several minutes with his face covered in horse shit. Naturally Tommy did not sleep well. He could see no resolution for his dilemma. To make matters worse, after brushing his teeth three times and using most of the mouthwash, his mouth had a horrible minty horse shit taste in it. Like Jack, he figured the best thing to do is to steer clear from Billy; but how? The next morning as he was walking through the parking lot, he noticed Rick and Jack sitting on Rick's truck tailgate finishing up their breakfast. He was almost past them and thought he was free and clear but he thought wrong. "Hey bitch," Jack hollered, "come here." Tommy did. Jack popped the last bite of his biscuit in his mouth and chewed it with his mouth open. It was disgusting; the loud, deliberate smacking and bits of biscuit spraying from his mouth nearly made Tommy sick. With his mouth full he said, "There's trash on Rick's tailgate." Tommy looked and noticed a crumpled up McDonald's bag, biscuit wrappers, and a couple of napkins scattered around. Tommy gathered up the trash. He didn't say anything; he wanted to get away from Jack ASAP. "Hey there faggot; do I detect attitude?" Jack said in a serious tone. "Perhaps you should talk to Ethan before pissing me off any time soon." "Yeah, what's your problem?" Rick asked sensing Tommy's mood. "Sorry, I'm just tired." "Well get over it," Rick ordered, "And be sure to be at the barn tonight. I have a chore for you." Rick said clutching his balls. "Tired huh?" Jack stated, "You just need a morning pick-me-up. Rick; let him have some of your sweet tea." Rick smiled. Tommy had noticed that Rick wasn't drinking from the straw; he was spitting into it using his watered down tea cup as a spitter. (The school dippers often used drink cups with straws to mask their tobacco use on school property.) Although Tommy suspected star football players would not be bothered by something as crazy as school rules anyway. "Here ya go faggot," Rick said handing him the cup, "take ya a big sip." Tommy did. He choked making a gagging face. Jack and Rick laughed. "We're turning you into a real country boy," Rick said insincerely, "and just in case you need another pick-me-up for later." Rick jumped down from the tailgate and took the wad of dip from his mouth. He pulled Tommy's front pocket open and stuck the wad in. After that he patted Tommy's pocket twice saying, "There ya go country boy." Jack laughed and also jumped off the tailgate. Both jocks left him and headed to class. Tommy stood there with their trash in his hands, Rick's wet dip smashed in his pocket, and his self-worth; well, who the fuck knew where they put that. Later at the barn Tommy was relieved that Billy was nowhere to be found. He even looked in the empty stalls to be sure. `That little fucker is crafty,' Tommy thought to himself. About his usual time Rick's truck pulled in. When he came in the barn he was wearing his trashed socks, sweats, and a hoodie with the high school mascot – a panther. "I am fucking beat," Rick said, "practice was brutal. Be a good fag and polish my knob for me; I've earned it today." Rick walked down to the wash stall. There was a chair there that he plopped in. Rick looked tired. Tommy gladly knelt in front of him and pulled his massive cock free from his sweats. Rick scrolled through his phone while Tommy went to work. Rick had a packed lip and Tommy heard him spit. The spittle landed to the left of Tommy. `Huh,' Tommy thought, `he didn't spit on me.' It made him happy that Rick was using him in a more humane way lately. Tommy sucked and sucked. He massaged Rick's shaft with his tongue, swirled his knob with his tongue, bobbed back and forth on his cock, and yet Rick did not reach climax. `He must be really tired,' Tommy thought. His knees were getting sore but he dare not take attention away from Rick's cock. Eventually Rick said, "Shit boy, some faggot you are. I guess I have to do this myself." Rick stood up and Tommy braced himself for another brutal throat bashing. And it was. Rick took no mercy on Tommy and fucked his throat raw. Soon he pulled out and commanded, "Open." Tommy opened his mouth and closed his eyes. "Look up at your superior faggot." Tommy immediately opened his eyes. Rick towered over him. He could see his hand stroking his giant, fully erect cock and his face looking down on him with a wicked grin. This load was not get shot down his throat or plastered to his face. This load was destined for his tongue. Tommy understood that Rick wanted him to taste and eat his seed. And he did. The first rope of cum shot toward the back of his throat but the others landed all over his tongue. It was intense. "Chew that shit up." Rick commanded. After chewing, tasting, and swallowing Rick's load Tommy said, "Thank you sir." "Thank me proper," Rick replied, "clean up my Shox; they're dusty." "Perhaps master would like to walk back to his truck first. His nice Nikes will get dusty again." Tommy said. He didn't know if Rick just liked him licking his sneakers or if he really wanted them to be cleaned. "That's very helpful faggot – for you. Your attitude today as earned you your second strike. Now get your faggoty tongue on my Shox and polish them up. Now!" Without another word Tommy's face fell into Rick's Shox and he went to work. `Why the fuck did I have to say anything?' All that work and abuse cleaning Rick and Jack's cleats after the game was now for nothing. He had two strikes again. "Hurry up!" Rick was in a raw mood. Tommy doubled his pace. As he licked the top of Rick's left sneaker he felt a good amount of spit hit him in the back of the head. `He's pissed again,' Tommy thought, `way to go Tommy.' Rick sat back down in his chair. Tommy lifted each leg cleaning the soles of his sneakers with his tongue. Rick's Shox had lived a hard life. The tread on the bottoms were worn slick. When he was done Rick said, "Follow me." Tommy did. When they reach his truck Rick pointed to the ground in front of his driver's side door. Tommy knew what to do. He laid on the hard asphalt and stuck his tongue out. Just as Tommy feared the bottoms had dirt, dust, and grit stuck all over from being dampened by his spit shine. They were much worse than before. His mouth quickly filled with grime which he swallowed without being asked. After his left Nike was clean again Rick wiped it on Tommy's jacket. Rick repeated the process for his right Nike. When Rick was satisfied his sneakers were clean, he opened his door and stepped on Tommy's chest to get into his truck. Tommy laid there a little frightened as the truck started up. The engine roared just above his head. "Oh fuck," Tommy said softly to himself. He remained perfectly still as the truck backed up beside his frightened body. When Rick was gone Tommy sat up thinking, `These guys will be the death of me for sure.'