Date: Thu, 27 Jul 2017 18:33:54 +0000 (UTC) From: J H Subject: Living Under the Boot of Rick ? Country Boy Domination |Part XII Living Under the Boot of Rick – Country Boy Domination |Part XII Author: JB jbcountry@yahoo.com [Please feel free to email comments.] **Please email if you want this story to continue. Thanks** **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 XII The drive to the barn was a wet one. The front seat cushion of Tommy's car was saturated by the contents of Jack's spit bottle. The smell was just as bad as the dampness. It was a combination of Mountain Dew, tobacco, and rotten meat. To make matters worse, when Tommy arrived at his job, Billy and Brandon were in the parking lot talking next to the four-wheeler. Tommy got out of his car and prayed the two alphas would have mercy. No such luck. "Did she piss her panties?" He heard Billy shout. Billy and Brandon snickered and laughed at Tommy's wet ass. Tommy took a breath for anger was welling up inside of him again. "No sir, something was spilled in my seat." Tommy replied nicely through gritted teeth. Tommy headed for the barn to begin his work. "Whoa, hold up there Bootboy," Billy snapped as Tommy started in. Tommy stopped and asked, "Yes sir?" "Nasty ass jeans may be okay in your piece of shit ride; but not in my barn; change." "Sir, I don't have any clothes to change into," Tommy replied thinking, `I would gladly change if I had spare clothes you little shit!' "Sucks for you," Billy replied, "Take them off." Tommy stood for a moment processing the command. Brandon snickered in delight with a big smile on his face but Billy was all business and serious. "Take – them – off," Billy commanded again in a clear, authoritative tone. Then with a fake smile he said, "Brandon and I will wash them for you. So take them off. Now!" Tommy kicked off his barn shoes and pulled his damp jeans off. He was humiliated and angry but tried not to show it. He held his jeans out for Billy. "We're not touching your shitty clothes. Toss them down." Billy said batting his hand away. Tommy complied and watched as Billy kicked his jeans off the paved parking lot and into the grass. "Come on Brandon, let's rinse these off for Bootboy." Billy straddled over Tommy's jeans with his back to Tommy. He turned his head with a smile and said, "Commencing rinse cycle." With his dick in hand Tommy heard him release his bladder and piss on his jeans. Brandon laughed and walked up next to Billy. He pulled his cock out to assist as instructed by his friend. Brandon stood at a clear side view perpendicular to Billy. Tommy's attention strayed from his clothes being pissed on when he saw Brandon's dick. It was a massive horse cock! Brandon was tall but young. Tommy did not expect his cock to be one of the biggest he ever saw in person. It was bigger than Rick's! The piss that flowed from it was equally impressive. "Damn man," Billy commented, "When's the last time you pissed? Last week?" "I drink lots of water," Brandon replied. "Shit Bootboy, it's your lucky day." Billy said, "These will be good-as-new for you!" Both boys snickered. When he was done, Billy zipped up. He turned to face Tommy and said, "Nice and clean. You can put them back on now." Brandon was shaking the last drops of piss from his massive pipe as Tommy approached to collect his `rinsed' jeans. Tommy looked down. His jeans had piss puddled in them. "Go on," Billy prompted, "Put them back on." Tommy looked at Billy. His arms were crossed and he was all business again. Tommy picked them up. Puddled piss ran down inside both of the jean legs. He hesitated but complied with Billy's command. They were still warm from the boy's piss but cooled off quickly. "Oh fuck," Brandon said, "I dribbled piss on my boots." Tommy looked down and sure enough several drops of piss were noticeable on Brandon's right boot. Tommy decided not to wait for a command. "Let me clean that for you," he said with a lump in his throat. As he knelt down Tommy felt his piss-coated jeans cling to his body. It was a disgusting sensation. Once again he was face-to-face with a country boy's boot. This time drops of piss mixed with dust where visible on the worn leather top. Tommy took his tongue and swiped the top. The fowl taste of bitter urine and mud filled his mouth. Tommy licked the entire boot top several times making sure that no drops were visible. When Brandon was satisfied he stepped to the side and put his left boot in front of Tommy's face. Tommy understood and licked the dust off the top of that boot as well. When he was finished he stood back up. "Well?" Billy prompted. "Thank you for cleaning my jeans and allowing me to clean your boots," Tommy said. "Any time bitch," Brandon snickered. Billy mounted the four-wheeler and said, "Yeah, you're welcome Bootboy. Come on Brandon; dinner is waiting." Billy cranked the quad and Brandon climbed up behind Billy. "And my saddle?" Billy asked. "It will be polished sir," Tommy said. With that Billy took off. Even with Tommy's treatment by Jack, his piss soaked jeans, and the horrid taste in his mouth; his mind was fixated on the image of Brandon's massive cock. It reamed burned in his memory as he worked and was the last thing on his mind when he went to sleep. Tommy was already awake when his cell phone alarm alert beeped Saturday morning. Even with the bliss of Brandon's mental dick pic, Tommy hadn't slept well for the dreaded the upcoming social. He was scheduled to feed the horses and clean stalls that morning. The party didn't start until noon. He finally forced himself to get up and ready for work. His car still had a sickening sour smell to it from Jack's dip spit. Fortunately for Tommy no one was at the barn and he was able to complete his work in peace. Afterwards he went home to shower and get ready. When he arrived home his mother was in the kitchen. The table was covered in credit card statements and his mother appeared to be balancing her check book. "Hey Tommy; how was work?" His mother asked without looking up from one of the statements. "Okay I guess." "Fuck these bastards," his mother said unexpectedly, "They charged a $39 late fee on a $25 payment." "Problems mom?" "Nothing new," his mother said, "Do you want to ride with me to the party?" "I don't think a high school senior should go to any social event with his mommy," Tommy replied with a sarcastic tone. "Don't get snarky with me," she snapped, "Well whatever you do don't forget we both work for Terry!" "I know mom. I'll behave and be a perfect slave." "Don't be like that," she said changing her tone to a motherly one, "we all do things we don't want to in life." "I know," Tommy replied with a heavy sigh. "Okay then; I'm leaving soon. I want to stop and get something for desert. Is there anything your friends like to snack on that I can bring?" Tommy smiled thinking that his "friends" would enjoy stomping anything she brought forcing him to eat from their boot bottoms. Then he said, "Whatever will be fine I'm sure." After his shower Tommy decided to get this party over with. The sooner he started; the sooner he could go. Tommy had never been to Rick's house before. It was offset from the main road but the barn was set much farther back. Tommy had passed the house several times. It was a large, impressive home; older but well maintained. A large four car garage was detached behind the main house. The backyard was groomed to perfection and fruit trees were centered in beds of fine landscaping. There was a large tent near a brick grilling area where several people had congregated. The groups were sectioned off by social status. Tommy could easily see the invited workers (where his mother was,) social elites, classmates from his high school, and a group of men overrunning the grill area. Smaller kids littered between the larger groups sporadically running and playing in their careless manner. Tommy smirked as it reminded him of his high school. Tommy had no idea where to go. He didn't see a group of subordinate alpha-serving piss-ants. He decided to avoid the students from his high school at all cost. He decided his safest bet would be to thank his boss, get noticed by his mother, eat, and quietly exit the scene. His boss was; naturally, manning the grill. He was surrounded by a multitude of other men sharing their grilling expertise. Tommy walked up and waited patiently so not to interrupt. "You cook steaks rare Nate, not hamburgers," his boss retorted to a nearby critic. "All I'm saying is you better have plenty of beer serving those bricks you're calling burgers!" "Are you sure I invited you?" his boss joked then, noticing Tommy, he said, "Tommy my man! Glad you could make it! I'm trying to teach these country rednecks a little bit about fine cuisine." "Whatever," his critic replied. "Thanks for inviting me," Tommy said. "My pleasure," Terry said, "The barn always looks so nice and I appreciate how dependable you are. It's been hard to find someone to work at the barn who is dependable and does a good job; even with my boys helping them out." `What the fuck,' Tommy thought to himself, `Terry must be delusional!' His `boys' never did anything to help. "Thanks," Tommy finally said, "I try." "You sure do," Terry continued, "I may have to give your mom a promotion to be sure you stick around!" That was exactly what Tommy did not want to hear. His mom was concerned that her job stability would not only depend on her performance at work; but also Tommy's! "By the way," Terry continued, "the boys usually go play some back-yard football and build a small fire later to hang out around. You should join them." "Maybe later," Tommy declined respectively, "I am going to see what my mom's up to." "Okay," Terry replied, "Suit yourself." When Tommy was walking away he heard one of the guys mumble, "titty baby." He didn't care though. The last thing he wanted was to be anywhere near a congregation of alpha jocks unsupervised. He would have enjoyed watching them; but he was pretty sure they wouldn't just go for that." Tommy found his mother gossiping with her co-workers. He sat beside her and noticed as the majority of his school mates piled into trucks and headed up the road toward the barn. Even Ben joined them. Tommy hoped to hang out with Ben but he was in the middle of the testosterone filled group of jocks. Tommy listened for an hour's worth of banter. He wanted to leave but had nowhere to go. He knew that food would be served soon. His plan was to eat and leave just as quickly as possible without appearing rude. Just when he thought he couldn't take anymore discussions about the machinery breaking down or how `hot' the new maintenance man was, it was announced that the food was ready. The line formed quickly and Tommy found himself midway in line. Mounds of hamburgers and hotdogs were stacked on a series of tables ready for consumption. About that time his phone buzzed with a text message from Rick which read, `bring lots of food.' Tommy has assumed that the guys were informed that food was ready and decided he could deliver it. A woman, who Tommy assumed was Rick's mother, was assisting people at the table. After informing her that he was going to bring food to Rick and his friends she assisted him with a few large bags. Together they filled it with cheeseburgers, hot dogs, bags of chips, and drinks. "That's so sweet of you to bring your friends the food. I hope they are going to tip you," she said with a smile. "I'm sure they will," Tommy said fearing what his `tip' might be. Tommy got the bags to his car and drove up the hill. He would deliver the food and then head home. People would think that he just ate with his `friends.' He noticed the trucks parked in the open field and the jocks gathered nearby sitting on folding chairs they brought with them. They were all there together; Rick, Jack, Billy, Brandon, Ben, and Jake along with a few other starters. They sat waiting on their food to be served. Their appearance was evidence of their football game. Tommy noticed mud smears and grass stains on their jeans and shirts. Their footwear was a combination of boots, cleats, and old sneakers; all a little muddy from the damp ground. "Bring on the chow!" Rick order, "There are hungry men here." Nobody got out of their chair. Tommy understood that he was to serve them. He systematically handed each one a drink from the bag. Then he started to pass out the bags of chips. Tommy's heart raced as smirks on each of the guys faces began to make him nervous. In the middle of the chip distribution Ben, much to Tommy's surprise, asked, "Do you really like being their bitch?" Tommy instinctively looked at Rick. Rick's eyebrows were raised with a definite expectation of an affirmative answer. "Yes sir," Tommy said softly. "What was that Bootboy?" Billy asked. "Yes sir," Tommy yelled. He fought the urge to throw the bag of chips down and run; but to where? And to what end? He remembered his place among men and there was nowhere to hide. "So you really are a faggot?" Ben continued his interrogation. Tommy hung his head and, with his face red from embarrassment, admitted, "Yes sir." Tommy should have known a discussion about him would occur prior to him showing up. He feared what might come next. "A boot licking fag at that," Billy said, "He loves that shit." He was handing Ben his bag of chips when Billy blurted out his plight. Billy's statement enlightened him of what was to come next. Of course, the subordinate serving alpha's boots. "Is that right?" Ben said looking hard at Tommy. Ben's eyes were full of judgment. "Are you just a boot-licking faggot?" Tommy could not look at Ben. He mumbled, "Yes sir," as he continued handing out the chips down the line of jocks. "Fuck yeah he is," Rick spoke up, "Now hurry up with my hot dog. We all know how you'd like to handle our wieners!" Everyone laughed and Tommy was mortified. This couldn't be any worse. He kept his gaze low. Smirks and gestures plagued his current situation. Ben's look of disgust bothered Tommy. He remembered how Ben commented on `fags' during their fishing trip. Ben wasn't a fan. Now that he was `outed' as a total subordinate faggot who served men at the lowest level, he wasn't sure what to expect from Ben. Tommy finished distributing the food. He didn't take any for himself. He worried about how that might turn out. He wasn't sure he could stomach a spit coated burger; or worse. Tommy set the food down and hoped to make his escape. Rick noticed Tommy's discomfort towards Ben and decided to take advantage of it. "Hey Ben where's your manners?" Rick asked, "Here we are eating and you've not offered your best buddy there anything to eat. Stick those big cleats out so he can have some fag chow." Tommy feared that Rick calling Ben out like that would put Ben in the awkward position to take action. Tommy was right. Ben looked up at Tommy and asked, "Is that right? Are you just some sub-human who enjoys eating shit off cleats?" Tommy looked at Ben's legs and his hot Nike cleats. The spikes were half dug into the soft ground from his muscular legs. Lust and obedience drove Tommy to instinctively answer, "Yes sir." Ben stretched out his right leg and said, "Well if that's all you are; then get to it." Without thinking Tommy was on his knees in front of his now ex-friend and new alpha master. His heart was heavy but he lowered his head to the ground; face to face with Jack's cleats. The spikes protruded through packed mud. The all-to-familiar taste of mud filled his mouth as Tommy began licking Ben's cleat. "That's disgusting," Ben replied. Tommy was so focused on his task at hand that he didn't noticed Billy walk over to him. Billy had his hot dog in his hand eating when he propped his right boot on Tommy's prostrated back. Billy's mouth was full of half-chewed hot dog bits when he said, "Clean `em good bitch." For a little guy Billy's boot weighed heavy on Tommy's back. It felt like the weight of the world; or at least his own existence. "That's good enough," Ben said pulling his cleat from Tommy's mud coated tongue. "There not clean yet," Billy informed Ben looking at Ben's cleat. "Clean enough," Ben said, "I know all I need to now." Tommy fought the urge to cry at hearing Ben's comment. "Suit yourself," Billy said removing his boot from Tommy's back. "Oh shit dude! Check out the boot print on fag's back. You better clean mine next." Billy walked back over to his seat and commanded, "Come on Bootlicker; time to work!" Tommy got up and slowly passed by the gazing eyes of the jocks present. Billy plopped down in his chair and tamped the ground with his left boot. "Lay down here for my convenience while I eat!" Billy said loud and proud. Tommy did as instructed. A cold wet boot bottom came close into view and landed on his face. Billy's boot heel dug into his forehead and his nose was pressed down by the boot's rubber tread. "Get `em good; I think I stepped in some horse shit playing football!" Billy snickered. Tommy obediently began licking the boot bottom. After several minutes of Billy switching his boots a couple of times over for service; Tommy noticed that typical conversation began to break out. He really was just an object for the alpha men. Tommy's tongue began to get raw. He was hoping for some relief when he heard Jack's voice instructing Billy to move. Soon after a familiar cleat landed hard on Tommy's face. Tommy began licking clean Jack's cleat for the umpteenth time. It was challenging for they pressed hard into his face. Jack enjoyed making Tommy struggle. After only a minute of service Jack pulled his cleat back hooking one of Tommy's nostrils with a spike. "Feel good fag?" Jack asked through gritted teeth lifting his cleat off of Tommy. Before Tommy could answer a wad of spit splatted on his forehead. "Fuck you faggot," Jack growled as the cleat landed back down. "I wanna her some slurping down there pussy. Be sure to suck the shit of each spike!" Tommy obeyed as best as he could. All attention was once again on Tommy as Jack created a new spectacle out of him. After a loud slurp on the cleat spike closest to his mouth Jack commented, "There ya go! Suck it like you would a cock faggot!" An array of laughter added to Tommy's embarrassment. After Jack was satisfied that Tommy licked his cleats well enough, Jack pulled the cleat off his face. Tommy looked up to find Rick towering over him. He looked like a giant from Tommy's vantage point. Tommy was relieved. He answered to Rick above all others and Rick had always kept his abuse reigned in. Tommy looked up at Rick with begging eyes. His face was smeared with mud from servicing Billy's boots and Ben and Jack's cleats. He yearned to be dismissed. Rick's look was one of complete indifference. Tommy hoped for him to say something like, `Now get the fuck out of here faggot.' Much to Tommy's surprise, Rick placed his right boot onto his chest leaning with his full weight. It was unexpected and Rick was so heavy it pressed the air out of Tommy's lungs. Tommy was about to gasp something when the other boot landed. Rick placed it on the right side of Tommy's face forcing the other side of his face into the soft earth. The left boot heel dug into his cheek bone. All Tommy could see was the grass and Rick's boot bottom as it stuck out off the side of his face. "Gentlemen," Rick announced in a stately voice, "please feel free to use my boot cleaner for your convenience!" With that, Rick stepped off and looked down on Tommy and said, "Dream come true; huh faggot? Now stay down until I tell you to get up; my buddies need clean kicks you know." Tommy did not answer. He worried that someone would notice he was rock hard. His dick swelled when Rick stepped on top of him. It was degrading and painful; but being under the complete weight of his jock god nearly made him cum. From that point on Tommy did not care. That moment of total domination by Rick was worth licking a thousand cleats and boots. One after another Tommy licked clean each boot or cleat presented to his face. As soon as one was finished, another appeared. His stomach had never been so full of dirt and grime. It rumbled hard. And to make matters worse, after hearing the familiar sound of Skoal cans being packed, Jack said, "Feel free to use the fag as a spitter too; he loves it!" It wasn't long before spit flung his way from all directions. Some landed in his open mouth and other's splatted off his face and neck. It was clear their aim was for his mouth. Tommy's treatment went on well after they built a bon fire. Tommy felt degraded even further when some of the guy's girlfriends showed up. He noticed the jocks required more frequent boot attention and had a little more tobacco spit than before for Tommy to swallow. After hours of licking boots, cleats, and being a human spittoon for the jocks, they lost interest in him. Near dusk several cases of beer were snuck in and the guys began to congregate and tell stories around the fire. Rick had told Tommy to stay down as their doormat until he released him and that is what Tommy intended on doing. It was getting cold on the ground and Tommy was not near the fire. He was worried he would be left there for hours. Tommy was even more concerned about his treatment if and when the jocks began feeling their beer. Much to Tommy's relief Rick walked up and straddled his chest. Tommy loved seeing Rick tower over him. "Look at the little faggot," Rick said with a sheepish grin. Tommy could tell Rick had a beer buzz. "His little faggy face is smear with mud and spit. I will help you with that; I need to break the seal anyways. It's a win-win." `Break the seal?' Tommy wondered to himself but not for long, for Rick pulled his dick from his pants and aimed his cock on Tommy's soiled face. "Sir, you wouldn't . . ." was all Tommy got out when he shut his eyes and mouth as hot piss began to dance off his face. It was a long, forceful, and steady stream of Rick's hot piss. Eventually Tommy felt the stream dissipate and dribble from his chin to chest. He opened his eyes as Rick was shaking the last drops off his penis. "Get out of here now," Rick said stepping to the side of Tommy, "and who the fuck told you to close your MOUTH!" When Rick shouted the word `mouth' he stomped Tommy's left hand. He held nothing back; Tommy's hand felt crushed under Rick's heavy boot. Tommy yelped in pain and pulled his hand away cradling it. Then he sat up when Rick was gone. When Rick joined his friends at the bon fire Tommy got up to head home. He hoped he could sneak in without his mother seeing him. His clothes were covered in mud, spit, and now some piss. Beside his mother seeing him, Tommy worried that, even after all his obedience, Rick was pissed with him. As he walked to his car Tommy began to notice he was light headed and felt sick from the abuse to his stomach. He had just reached his car when he threw up. As he wiped his mouth he saw Ben stroll up near him. "Serves you right," Ben said in a very uncaring tone. "Look, Ben..." Tommy started to say. "Don't talk to me fag!" Ben snapped and walked away. With his stomach in knots and his hand throbbing, Tommy finally got to leave the party. He didn't know if he wanted to throw up again, worry about Rick, dwell on the social consequences of the evening, or just go to bed. He chuckled as he said to himself, "Great party; and you didn't want to go!"