Date: Wed, 29 Nov 2017 04:36:54 +0000 (UTC)
From: jbcountry@yahoo.com
Subject: Living Under the Boot of Rick ? Country Boy Domination |Part XVII

Living Under the Boot of Rick – Country Boy Domination |Part XVII
Author: JB
jbcountry@yahoo.com
[Please feel free to email comments.]

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Part XVII

Tommy's phone was buzzing; waking him up.  It was cold.  He was cold.  He
could hear the horses stirring in the barn.  He was disoriented but managed
to fumble his phone from his pocket.  His pants were still around his
ankles and his sore ass was bare.  It was his mother calling.

"Hello," Tommy said groggily.

"Thank goodness," his mother said panicked, "where the hell are you?"

"Sorry mom," Tommy replied, "I was too tired to drive so I crashed at the
barn."

"The barn?" she replied, "Aren't you freezing?"

"No," Tommy lied, "the office is heated and they have a comfy couch."

"Okay then," she said, "next time call me damn it; I was worried sick!"

"I will.  I'm headed home now."

The reality of his present situation confirmed that his terrible evening
was no dream.  The most worrisome image replaying in his mind was Rick
pulling his boot from Tommy's eager lips; telling him he was not good
enough to kiss them.  Rick's declaration froze Tommy in emotional agony;
eventually Tommy fell asleep.  He was up now though.  His body was too
young to feel so old.  His body was stiff and sore as he slowly pulled up
his jeans and buckled his belt.  Tommy left the barn feeling empty and
drove home.

Driving to school the next day was dreadful.  He wanted to be alone.  He
contemplated skipping school however, Tommy decided it was better to face
his mess rather than run from it.  In the fog of his own depression he was
oblivious to the sunny, warm day.  He couldn't help but notice Rick and
Jack enjoying breakfast together on Rick's tailgate in their usual manner.
Tommy thought about walking up and collecting their trash; his usual duty,
but he lacked the nerve to face both jocks at the same time.  Jack wanted
to beat him to a pulp and Rick had just grudge-fucked him; leaving him
broken on the unforgiving, ice cold concrete floor.  Tommy planned to avoid
the two alphas until things settled down; particularly his own emotions.
He felt miserable.  He betrayed Rick by blowing Brandon without his alpha's
permission.  He didn't know how he would cut Brandon off; but he decided he
must.

Classes started out on a positive note.  Jason didn't pick on him during
his first class.  He also saw Ben in passing and was greeted with a
friendly smile.  At lunch Tommy was completely ignored by the jocks.
Typically, one or two of them, especially Jack, would send a condescending
look his way; but none came.  Tommy worried that Rick was completely done
with him.  He never dreamed another guy using him as a cumdump would make
Rick so, well, jealous.  Could it be that Rick had developed some sort of
feelings for him?  Tommy was unsure.

Later that afternoon at the barn, a few people had been riding their horses
taking advantage of the nice day.  But now they were leaving for their warm
houses.  The daylight hours were shorter, and it would be dark and cold
soon.  Tommy cringed when he heard the whine of Billy's dirt bike raising
hell in the open pasture field.  It was dusk but that didn't seem to slow
Billy down.  He hoped Rick's little brother would ride home afterwards.  He
was in no emotional state to deal with Billy.

Rick's truck was parked in its usual spot.  The sight of it made Tommy's
heart race.  A lump developed in his throat and he was more nervous to face
Rick then he'd ever been before.  Inside the barn Tommy discovered Rick
brushing Tank inside his stall.

Tommy stopped and looked through the stall bars; he wanted to talk but did
not know what to say.  "I will be sure to pick his stall out good," Tommy
said desperately attempting to break the ice.

Rick did not respond.

"I'm sorry master," Tommy blurted out.  He was bother by the silence.

"I'm sorry," Tommy repeated.

Rick stopped brushing and looked up at Tommy.  He appeared indifferent and
replied, "Don't be sorry.  Cock whores like you can't help it."

Tommy looked down; thinking about what to say next when he was distracted
by the sound of Billy's dirt bike.  The sound grew much louder as it
approached the barn.  Tommy looked down the hallway and noticed Billy
braking at the barn entrance.  After killing the engine, Billy dismounted
and leaned his mud-caked bike against the wall.  Tommy recalled how Rick
once chastised Billy for riding his dirt bike inside the barn.

Knowing his private time was limited, Tommy quickly said, "I just want you
to know I'm sorry; last night bothered me."

Rick resumed brushing Tank and said, "You lying little bitch, you can't get
enough of dicks; any way, where, or time."

Billy was getting closer, so Tommy lowered his voice and said, "Not that
sir, it's just that," Tommy paused, "you said I wasn't good enough to even
kiss your boots."

"What's up boot fag?" Billy asked in a robust and obnoxious voice walking
into the conversation, "Sucking up to my big bro?"

Tommy lowered his head and sighed.  Rick was not talking much, and he knew
Billy wouldn't shut up, so Tommy turned to walk away.

"What the fuck; turn around!" Billy commanded in loud, angry voice.

At the same time Rick stepped outside of the stall and shut the door.
Billy's angry command stopped Tommy in his tracks.  Tommy hesitantly turned
to face his tormentor.  Rick stood close to Billy with his arms crossed and
watched his little brother take charge.  Tommy suspected that Rick knew his
true feelings for Billy.  He wondered if letting Billy demean him was some
sort of punishment for last night.

"Show some respect bitch," Billy growled, "on your fucking knees!"

Tommy glanced at Rick, who was showing no signs of interference, so he fell
to his knees.  Billy appear much taller and threatening from his kneeling
posture.  Rick remained standing with his arms crossed.  Billy had both
hands on his hips as he glared down at Tommy.  Steam rose from Billy's
heated body.  It was getting cooler now and the dirt bike workout had Billy
sweaty.  His hair was messy from sweat and a helmet, he was wearing a
colorful dirt bike jersey which hung loosely around his mud speckled jeans,
and his black MX boots were coated in sticky mud.

Billy's stepped toward Tommy and bitch-slapped him hard with his gloved
hand.  It stung terribly.  The MX gloves had reinforced padding for grip
which added to the sting.

Tommy was knocked off balance for a moment.  After he steadied himself;
regaining his balance, he discovered Billy's right index finger pointing at
his face; nearly touching his nose.

"Motherfucker you're gonna learn your place if I have to beat you down
every day!"  Billy snapped.

After an awkward pause, Rick finally spoke.

"You know what Billy?" Rick asked.

"What?" Billy asked; crossing his arms mimicking Rick.

"Tommy here was just telling me how he loves taking care of boots so bad,"
Rick said sadistically, "looks like yours could use a good cleaning."

"They do; don't they," Billy happily agreed.

Tommy glanced at the wet, mud caked boots.  He cringed at the thought of
licking the fresh mud of the little shit's MX boots.

Tommy's hesitation did not go unnoticed.  Stalling the dreaded task, Tommy
was startled when a hand seized the back of his head.  Rick's hands were
massive.  As Rick palmed his head, Tommy felt his long fingers clinch him
tight like a vice.  Tommy was completely overpowered by Rick and, in an
instant, Rick forced his head to the toe of Billy's left MX boot.  Tommy
was immobilized.  His lips were smashed into the tiny studs on the boot's
toe.  His nose raked through mud and jammed into a heavy buckle.

"Lick motherfucker, lick and eat shit!" Rick growled in a hateful tone.
Rick's rage was palpable.

Billy started laughing.

The laughter from Billy singed every nerve of Tommy's.  His head was still
locked down by Rick's grip.  Not knowing what else to do; Tommy forced his
tongue out of his mouth and swiped at the endless amounts of caked dirt
plastered to the boot.  Then Rick released his grip, stood up, and looked
down at Tommy's pathetic head bobbing up and down as he ate the filth off
the boot.

"Faster." Rick ordered.

Tommy quickened his pace.  The cleaner he got the boot toe; however, the
more painful the tiny studs became.  Tommy was on knees and forearms.  He
winced at the pain when Rick's boot heel suddenly dug into his back.  He
did not let the pain slow him down however; even though his efforts
appeared unsatisfactory to Rick.

"Faster!" Rick yelled even louder, "Work that cock-sucking mouth of yours!"

Billy's laughter was endless.  He was enjoying every second of Tommy's
pain.  Tommy's emotions blended together; anger, lust, hate, and joy.  He
kept telling himself that his purpose was serving Rick; nothing else
mattered.  His mouth was filling fast with mud.  He tried to let some of
the mud drool out the side of his abused mouth.

"No faggot," Billy warned; ending his long streak of laughter.  "You
swallow that shit."  He laughed again and said, "It's good for you; it's
fag chow!"

Tommy heard the smack of a high-five Billy shared with his brother.  Tommy
was enraged by his jealousy.  He wanted a bond like that with Rick.  He
thought he might have had one, but he fucked that up.  Tommy knew that
strict obedience was the only way he might find himself back in Rick's good
graces.

Noticing a huge chunk of mud caked to the second buckle, Tommy reached up
and bit it off scraping his teeth against the unforgiving hard plastic
boot.  He chewed and swallowed hard.  The mud slid down his throat slowly,
but Tommy wasted no time returning his mouth to the boot; licking a buckle
clean.

"Mmmm," Billy said in a demeaning tone, "Is that fag chow good boy?"

Between licks Tommy replied, "Yes sir."  His voice was muffled by the
sticky mud in his mouth and throat."

Tommy felt the weight of Rick's boot lift from his back.  Rick crouched
down.  Tommy feared what he might say or do but he continued to service
Billy's boot; despite his bleeding tongue.

"You want to be good enough again?" Rick asked, "Worthy enough to service
my boots again?"

"Yes sir," Tommy pleaded, "More than anything sir."

"Okay then, I'm going home now to eat my dinner," he explained, "not fag
chow; but food that men deserve.  When my baby bro gets home I expect him
to be happy with your service.  Anything less; well then," Rick paused,
"I'll let Jack have you then."

Tommy's eyes widened.  The gravity of the threat was real and terrifying.
The prospect of pleasing Billy was equally terrifying.  But trapped by his
own mistake Tommy understood he must endure any whim Billy commanded.

"Do I make myself clear?"  Rick asked.

"Yes sir," Tommy replied as he continued the seemingly endless task of
licking Billy's MX boots clean.

With that, Rick stood up and said to Billy, "The fag's all yours."

With an evil snicker from Billy and another victorious high-five shared
between the brothers, Tommy listened as Rick walked away.  He dared not
break his attention to Billy's boots by watching Rick leave.

`You got this Tommy,' he told himself, `just obey.  Billy is more of a man
now than I'll ever be; just obey.'

As Tommy continued servicing the boot he noticed it shift slightly.  His
dread increased; wondering what Billy was up to.  He heard a button snap
and the familiar sound of zipper being pulled.

"I'm gonna flavor up that fag chow for you." Billy said.

Soon after Tommy felt a hot stream of young piss hit his back and move to
his head.

"Oops," Billy said snickering, "my bad!"

Billy held the stream on Tommy's head a little longer and then watched as
it splattered off his boot where Tommy was licking.

"Keep licking!" Billy yelled.

Tommy quickly complied.  The piss was rancid.  Billy must have been
dehydrated from riding his dirt bike.  The strong, sour urine invaded
Tommy's palate dominating the taste of mud.  As the stream waned Tommy felt
drops scatter over his body as Billy shook his cock dry.

"Isn't that better bootlicker?" Billy asked.

"Yes sir," Tommy lied.

Billy snickered.

It was not better.  The urine soaked mud was nauseating.  He worried just
how sadistic Billy could possibly get.  Regardless, Tommy continued to
service the boots.  They were not coming clean easily.  After a while Tommy
heard Billy sigh a couple of times.  Tommy hoped that Billy would get bored
and want to go eat `real man food' soon like his brother.

"Hey bootlicker," Billy asked.

"Yes sir," Tommy replied.

"Why did you ignore me when I first came in?"

`Oh fuck,' Tommy thought.  He had no answer that Billy would like.

"Well?" Billy probed.

Tommy figured that Billy was setting him up for failure.  Understanding
that Billy expected a reply, Tommy blurted out the first thing that came to
mind.

"It was a mistake sire; sorry sir."

"A mistake?" Billy inquired; setting Tommy up for further failure.

"Yes sir; sorry sir."  Tommy replied licking his boot faster out of nervous
energy.

"Hmm," Billy said, "Your kind of like my dog.  You need training to obey
your master; don't you?"

"Yes sir," Tommy said softly in a trembling voice.  He worried where this
was leading.

"Straighten up," Billy commanded pushing Tommy off his boot.

Tommy remained on his knees and straightened up as commanded.

"Scoot back," Billy commanded.

Tommy complied as beads of sweat popped up in anticipation of what Billy
may be up to.

Billy began to circle around Tommy.  He walked slow and ominous.  Tommy's
anxiety increased.

"You understand that ignoring me is a bad dog, right?" Billy asked.

"Yes sir," Tommy replied softly.

"And you also understand that bad dogs need to be punished, right?"

"Yes sir," Tommy replied in a cracked voice filled with dread.

Billy stopped circling Tommy and returned to face him once more.  He leaned
down and said in a fake, caring tone, "This hurts me much more than it
hurts you."

With that, Billy straighten back up and; with his full might, planted the
toe of his MX boot into Tommy's balls.

Tommy double over and screamed in agony.  He breathed rapidly in and out of
his mouth attempting to settle his angry stomach and endure the piercing
pain to his nuts.

Billy allowed little time for Tommy to recover.

"Kiss my boots and thank me for the lesson," Billy commanded.

Tommy slowly eased to Billy's cruel boot and complied with the command.  He
kissed the boots that just assaulted him so viciously.

"Now roll over on your back," Billy ordered.

Tommy complied out of shear fear.

Billy circled round Tommy again; stepping over his outstretched legs.

Then without notice, Billy stepped onto Tommy's aching body.  He placed his
left boot on Tommy's chest and planted his right boot on Tommy's throat.

Billy was surprisingly heavy.  He shifted his weight back and forth gaining
his balance and then gazed down on the useless fag under his boots.

"Look up at me faggot," Billy ordered.

Tommy did.  He couldn't hide the streams of tears rolling out of his eyes.
Billy's right MX boot looked huge from this vantage point and dominated his
vision.  But the boot led up to a conquering, sadistic, and cruel boy in
middle school.  They led to his superior; and Billy was making his point
loud and clear.

Billy grinned down at Tommy and said, "This is how life will ALWAYS be for
you.  Never forget that bootlicker."

Tommy's voice was strangled by the pressing boot on his throat, but Tommy
managed to reply, "Yes sir."

Billy laughed again and stepped off Tommy.  Tommy coughed and gasped for
air.  His nuts throbbed from Billy's merciless kick.  Tommy looked up to
see Billy staring down at him.  His devilish grin made Tommy tremble.
Billy tapped his mouth rather hard with his right boot sole.

"Tongue out," Billy ordered.

Tommy immediately obeyed.  He feared another lesson in obedience.  The
familiar sight of a boot bottom dominated Tommy's vision.  Billy slowly,
and with good pressure, wiped his boot on Tommy's sore tongue.  Fortunately
for Tommy, the MX boot soles were slick and not cleated.  The bottoms were
coated with sawdust and dirt from the barn floor; stuck to a thin layer of
mud.  It wasn't pleasant, but it could have been worse.  After thoroughly
wiping each boot on Tommy's tongue, Billy finished cleaning his boot soles
using Tommy's jacket as a doormat.

When he was done, Billy crotched down near Tommy's head and said, "Just
look at you faggot.  Your family must be so proud.  Soaked in my piss and
eating the shit off my boots.  How do you sleep at night bootlicker?"

Tommy's anger kindled again but he dared not show it.  He yearned for a
positive report given to Rick.

"My life is serving superiors like you master," Tommy choked out, "Thank
you sir."

Billy stood up straight, looked down at Tommy, and said, "Pathetic."

Tommy nervously watched at Billy dug deep within his nasal cavities;
hocking up whatever snot he had in him.  With a coy smile Billy launched a
massive loogie onto Tommy's face.  The warm loogie stuck to the side of his
face and slowly slid down his cheek.  Tommy hit yet another low point in
his life.

"Now dog," Billy ordered, "go fetch my barn Nikes at the wash stall; on all
fours."

Tommy, degraded and defeated, crawled to the wash stall on his hands and
knees; enduring the sound of Billy's snickering the entire way.  The nasty,
worn-out Nikes were tossed on the ground several feet apart.  Tommy looked
back to find Billy observing closely with his arms crossed in a dominant
stance.  With his nose Tommy pushed the Nikes close enough to collect them
both in his mouth and crawl back to his harsh waiting master.  When he
returned to Billy, he dropped them at his feet and awaited further
instructions.

Billy grabbed his Nikes and leaned onto the stall wall and began unbuckling
his MX boots.

"You're too damn slow at licking my boots faggot," he said, "I'm gonna go
eat real men food but don't worry; I'll leave these here for you to finish
your dinner.

Tommy remained on all fours.  One by one Billy dropped the heavy dirt bike
boots in front of him.  Billy propped his sneaks onto Tommy's back to tie
them.

Pointing to his MX boots Billy ordered, "I expect these fucking spotless,
bootlicker."  Without another word, he walked to the end of the barn, fired
up his dirt bike, and rode home.

Now that he was alone, Tommy straightened up and gingerly walked into the
bathroom.  He cleaned up his filthy face.  Tears streamed out of both eyes.
They were tears of anger and frustration with his impossible situation.
Tommy didn't touch the boots.  He quickly began finishing his chores; the
ones he was actually being paid to do.  When he was nearly finished his
phone buzzed; alerting him of a text message.

Tommy froze, breaking out into a cold, nervous sweat.  He nervously fumbled
at his phone to view the text.  It read, `billy says ur a fucking tool and
obeyed... lucky u.'

Elated, Tommy replied, `thank you sir!!!!!'

It felt as if he'd hit the lottery!  All of Tommy's worries waned in an
instant.  Sure; he was a tool.  But he was Rick's tool.  He vowed to never
put that in jeopardy again.

With his new lease on life, Tommy finished his chores.  Then Tommy returned
to Billy's MX boots.  He happily sat down next to them, picked one up, and
resumed licking it clean.  It would take a while, possible all night, but
Billy's motocross boots would be spotless when he was done.