Date: Mon, 21 Aug 2017 04:42:19 +0000 (UTC)
From: jbcountry@yahoo.com
Subject: Living Under the Boot of Rick ? Country Boy Domination |Part XIV

Living Under the Boot of Rick – Country Boy Domination |Part XIV
Author: JB
jbcountry@yahoo.com
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Part XIV

Tommy was haunted by Rick's touch to his face.  He had ruled out punishment
or frustration as motive.  He longed for the possibility of some form of
affection.  But what?  Was it: `that's a good boy; way to be my cumdump;'
or a jock's gesture of smacking a friend (typically another jock) on the
ass; or was it some sort of bravado hidden sign of caring?  Tommy did not
know but he was obsessing over it.  Unfortunately Rick went MIA over the
next couple of days.  He wasn't at school or the barn.  Billy hadn't shown
up either.  A small part of Tommy wished that he would see them, even
Billy; even if it meant servicing his nasty big mx boots again.

In fact, the only degrading (or any social contact) Tommy had with his
peers was Jason.  Tommy had noticed that on Fridays the guys walked taller
and strutted around more than other days.  He figured it was excitement of
the upcoming weekend.  The testosterone was palpable.  Tommy half expected
to see guys pissing on lockers and people marking their territory as a dog
would.  Jason was no exception.  During Tommy's first period, while waiting
for the class to start, Jason walked by.  Tommy thought nothing of it until
a sharp pain radiated from his right ear.  Tommy jumped and instinctively
turned around to see Jason walking down the row to his desk.  Jason had
flicked his ear hard.  Tommy watched him as he took his seat making eye
contacted with Jason.  A dumb move.

"What?" Jason yelled loudly gaining the attention of several people in the
class.

Tommy did not reply.  Tommy turned around rubbing his throbbing ear.

"That's what I thought," Jason said.

Tommy worried that Jason may become a problem.

Tommy's brief hiatus from Rick ended on Saturday night.  He received a text
from Rick to be at the barn after lunchtime.  Tommy wasn't sure when `lunch
time' was exactly so he was ready and waiting at 11:45.  Tommy had waited
for half an hour when he heard someone coming up the barn road.  It was the
four-wheeler.  `Damn it,' Tommy thought.  He could see Billy and Brandon
riding into the parking lot.

Billy wasted no time and, as Brandon dismounted the four-wheeler, Billy
said, "Don't think I have forgotten about your piss-poor job on my mx
boots."

Tommy was a little relieved that Billy was not wearing them.  They were a
complicated boot to lick clean and, in addition to being disgusting, they
hurt his tongue because of all the little studs and multiple crevices.

"You will get to clean `em up right soon enough," Billy said as he
dismounted the quad.

Billy looked hard at Tommy.  He notice Tommy's gaze at Brandon's crotch.
Tommy couldn't help himself.  Ever since he saw Brandon's massive cock
pissing he was intrigued.  Brandon was a very tall, lean country boy with
that sheepish grin.  He always wore his broke down western work boots over
his jeans which made the large boots look even bigger.

"See something you like bootlicker?" Billy meanly asked; calling Tommy out
by his distraction.  "Careful Brandon," Billy added, "I think he's perving
on you."

"Is that right?" Brandon asked.  "You wanna polish my knob?"

Tommy did not answer as Billy smirked and said, "Bootlicker likes to polish
everything with his faggoty mouth!"

Tommy remained silent as the two boys laughed and ventured into the barn.
Billy headed for Nicker's stall for a Sunday ride.  Well Tommy figured that
Billy was riding; Brandon usually just watched.  Tommy hoped that Rick
would arrive soon.  He knew how much Billy enjoyed exerting his dominance
over Tommy.  It was annoying.

Tommy continued to wait.  He wasn't sure how much longer Rick would be.
After a while he heard a horse running down the trail beside the barn.  It
was Billy riding Nicker.  He galloped alongside the road.  Tommy figured
watched him ride to the open pasture which led to the trails in the woods.
Tommy watched as he rode out of sight.  `I hope Rick gets here before he
gets back,' Tommy thought to himself.

"Bootlicker," Brandon said.

Startled, Tommy turned around to find Brandon standing behind him.  He
looked down and answered, "Yes sir?"

"You wanna polish my knob now or not?" Brandon said.  His voice cracked.
Brandon was trying to sound dominant but he was nervous.

"What?" Tommy asked.  He was not expecting the invitation.

"You know, suck me off," Brandon said again with a little more confidence.

Tommy didn't know what to say.  He was completely caught off guard by
Brandon's request.

"Or you can just clean my boots again." Brandon suggested.

Tommy looked down and Brandon's boots were dirty.  In fact some straw was
stuck to the bottom of Brandon's left boot.  Tommy feared he had stepped in
some horse shit.  Tommy was also intrigued by Brandon's dick.  It was so
big limp, he was curious just how much that monster could grow.

Brandon was agitated by Tommy's silence and said, "Go ahead then; get to
lickin'"

"Let's go to the hay shed," Tommy suggested, "I am expecting Rick so we
have to hurry."  Tommy regretted commanding a time limit.  It felt strange
giving a direction like that to an alpha.

Brandon didn't seem to care though.  He turned around and walked to the
other end of the barn to the hay shed.  Tommy followed with growing
anxiety.  What if Rick showed up and he wasn't ready.  What if Billy or
Rick caught him blowing Brandon?  Regardless his curiosity and need for
cock urged him to follow the young country boy.

At the hay shed Brandon wasted no time.  He loosened his belt and pulled
out his cock.  It flipped out and hung down over his dirty Wrangler jeans.

"Suck it," Brandon commanded.  Again his voice wasn't nearly as confident
sounding as it usually was.  Tommy suspected Brandon had never been given
head before.  Tommy looked at his prize.  It was so inviting and Tommy
considered it a small honor to be the first person to service the amazing
dick.  Tommy dropped to his knees, facing Brandon's limp dick.

"Go on, make it happy," Brandon said in eager anticipation.

Tommy leaned in and kissed the shaft just above the knob.  He took his
tongue and licked up the giant shaft causing it to spring up with vigor.

"Holy fuck," Brandon said.  Brandon was caught off guard by his own libido.
Sticking his cock closer to Tommy he commanded.  "Suck it now!"

Tommy held Brandon's knob in his mouth; caressing it with his tongue.  He
began to move down on the shaft but he couldn't swallow the whole nine inch
monster.  The more attention Tommy gave to Brandon's cock; the more it
swelled with amazing girth and length.  Tommy struggled to take in six
inches of it.  After several attempts to swallow Brandon's cock, Tommy felt
two strong hands link behind his head.  The young stud proceeded to bounce
his cock off the back of Tommy's throat.  The massive dick cut off Tommy's
air supply.  In no time Tommy's face was purple.  The noise coming from him
was a strained gurgle, muffled coughing, and a few desperate moans for
mercy.  The young stud was overrun by animalistic urges.  Tommy was
suffocating by Brandon's deep rooted, primeval instinct; the intense
sensation of his first blow job.  If he was looking for mercy; there was
none to be found.

Tommy looked up and saw Brandon's head was rolled back with his mouth open.
Tommy took his left hand and placed it on Brandon's thigh to push away.
The result was less than desirable.  When he did, Brandon buried Tommy's
head in his crotch.  Tommy stopped pushing away and focused all his energy
on breathing.  He was inhaling deep within Brandon's pubes when Brandon
tensed up and unleashed his load.  Blast after blast of cum filled Tommy.
Tommy finally felt his abuser's hold release him.  He fell to all fours and
gasped for precious air.

"That was awesome!" Brandon said returning to himself.

Tommy was still breathing hard.  He thought he might actually vomit cum for
the first time in his life.

"O faggot," a familiar voice sang.  It was coming from the barn near the
shed, "Come out, come out wherever you are."

"Oh shit," Brandon said zipping up fast.  Tommy felt Brandon's hand return
to the back of his head pushing him down to his dirty boots.  "Start
licking; quick!"

Tommy was still dealing with Brandon's seed in his mouth and a small amount
bubbling from his nose.  But he did as commanded and started to lick the
top of Brandon's boot when Jack came in.  He felt the amused stare of Jack
as his tongue glided across the top of Brandon's dusty, brown cowboy boot.
When Tommy swallowed it was the warm saltiness of Brandon's cum tainted
with the dirt from his boot.

"There you are," Jack said assessing the situation.

"Hey Jack," Brandon said, "bootlicker is just cleaning my `ole boots!"
Brandon redirected his attention to Tommy and ordered, "Clean `em good
bitch!"

"Looks like a glob of shit stuck to the bottom," Jack informed Brandon.

The boot pulled away from Tommy's tongue unexpectedly.  Tommy near licked
the hay shed floor.  Brandon grabbed his boot and pulled it up to inspect.

"I sure did," Brandon said, "Get that,' Brandon ordered.  He took a step
back so that he could flex his boot up on its heel exposing the bottom to
Tommy's face.

To Tommy's horror he saw and smelled the horse shit stuck to Brandon's
boot.  He drew his mouth close and hesitated.  He did not want to do this.

Jack crouched down beside Tommy and watched.  When Tommy hesitated he
barked, "Ain't got all day faggot, lick that shit off like the man said!"

Tommy felt a hard slap on the back of his head.  Tommy was about to make
contact with the boot bottom when Jack stood up and rested his boot on the
back of his head.  This action forced Tommy's face into Brandon's boot.  At
first the pressure was too great and Tommy's face planted nose first into
the caked horse shit.  Jack and Brandon both laughed.  Jack eased the
pressure off so that Tommy could clean the boot.  Tommy made a hard lick
scrapping up the boot collecting a large amount on his tongue.  Fortunately
for Tommy neither jock said anything about him scraping his tongue on the
top of his teeth to spit the shit out.  He began licking again repeating
the process of cleaning his tongue discretely.  He feared that an order to
swallow may come.

While Tommy serviced Brandon's boot Brandon asked, "Is Rick with you?"

"Nah," Jack replied, "My dad flipped his shit about me cleaning the garage
so Rick is loaning me his bitch."

`What the fuck,' Tommy thought, `Rick loaned me out to Jack?"

"Good idea," Brandon said, "I may need to borrow him sometime."

Tommy wanted to say something but it was impossible to be argumentative
while licking horse shit off a man's boot.

"Yeah, I used to think we should just shoot all the fucking faggots," Jack
said, "but it turns out they can be useful!  I guess I'm being all liberal
and shit now!"

Both jocks laughed again.

Jack turned his attention back to Tommy and said, "Got the man's boot
cleaned yet bitch?  You got more work to do."  Jack crouched down again and
inspected Tommy's work and ordered, "Eat that fag chow; you'll need the
protein to work hard today!"

Tommy's mind raced.  `Why would Rick loan him out?'  The reality sunk in
that Rick had no affection for him at all.

When Tommy pulled his head away Jack inspected one last time and said,
"Good enough bitch; let's go."

Tommy was at a total loss.  He did not like the idea of being `loaned out'
and he certainly did not want to be alone at Jack's mercy.  He enjoyed
serving most of the jocks.  Some of them annoyed him like Billy; but Jack
scared him.

Jack said nothing more.  He turned and started walking away with the
expectation of Tommy following him.  Tommy recalled his revelation in the
stall.  His life was serving Rick and if Rick wanted him to serve Jack so
be it.  Tommy was on his knees in front of Brandon watching Jack leave.  He
started to stand when Brandon's hand landed on his shoulder.

"Are we forgetting something?" Brandon said.  His voice was no longer
nervous or cracking.  It was a pure alpha expectation of respect.

Tommy leaned back down and kissed both of Brandon's boots and said, "Thank
you sir."

"You better go now.  I wouldn't piss off Jack if I were you," Brandon
warned.

Tommy completely agreed with Brandon and jogged off to follow Jack to his
truck.

Jack was driving a relatively new Dodge Ram.  Tommy climbed into the bed of
the big truck.  His heart was beating fast because he did not know what to
expect.  Would Jack bring him back?  Would he leave him for dead?  Tommy
just didn't know so his anxiety grew.

Eventually the truck entered an older neighborhood in the suburbs.  Jack's
house was at the end of dead-end street.  It was an older split-foyer with
a large detached garage.  Tommy followed Jack to the garage and they
entered through a side door.  Inside Tommy saw a covered car in one of the
bays and the other bay had an old four-wheeler, lawn mower, and some
bicycles.  The concrete floor was covered in dirt; and trash was littered
throughout the garage.  A cluttered workshop lined the back of the garage.
Empty beer cans, spit bottles, opened boxes, food wrappers, and a host of
trash was shuffled in with unorganized tools.  Jack made his way to the
garage corner and fetched a broom and dust pan.  As he returned to Tommy,
who was still examining the mess at the door, Jack stumbled over an empty
box.

"Fuck," Jack said recovering from his stumble, "this place is a shit hole."
He shoved the worn-out broom and dust pan to Tommy and ordered, "Clean it
up."  Then Jack grabbed a basketball and left the garage.

"Clean it up," Tommy repeated softly to himself.  Tommy didn't know where
to start assessing the filthy garage.  Regardless of his mixed emotions,
Tommy knew he had no choice so he began.  Tommy could hear Jack shooting
hoops nearby and feared inspection at any time.  He gathered all the
obvious large trash items into a box.  Tommy didn't know much about tools
but he organized them as best as he could.  Luckily the sockets and
wrenches were labeled so he could return them to their proper slots.  Tommy
broke down the cardboard boxes and stacked them neatly in a corner.

It took a while but the garage was looking better and better.  Tommy was
tired.  He had worked at the barn, been used and abused by Brandon, and now
was a rented slave to Jack.  After the floor was swept Tommy made it to a
corner designated to sports.  There was hunting gear hung up, rods and
reels, a box full of basket balls, footballs, and other various sport
equipment.  Littered throughout that area were boots (Tommy recognized
Jack's hunting boots,) trashed sneakers, basketball shoes, old cleats, and
work boots.  Tommy moved them all out, swept the floor, and neatly
organized them back in pairs.

Jack offered no refreshment and Tommy was thirsty.  He had the taste of
Brandon's cum and boots still in his mouth.  When he was done, Tommy worked
up the nerve to see if Jack would take him back to the barn.  He was on his
way out when Jack came in.

"Is this okay Sir?" Tommy asked Jack.

Jack did not reply.  He wondered around the garage inspecting Tommy's work.
Tommy assumed his silence was approval but he expected no praise.  Tommy
didn't care though; he just wanted to go home.

Jack made it to the corner where Tommy organized the outdoor footwear.  He
took one look at it and finally spoke up, "Did you clean these shoes?"

"Um," Tommy stuttered, "No sir; I just organized them."

"Well get to it then," Jack said walking past Tommy heading out the door.

"Can I finish another day?" Tommy asked.

Jack stopped in his tracks.  After a terrible few seconds of silence Jack
turned to face Tommy.  With an inquisitive face Jack asked, "What did you
say?"

"It's just I'm tired and want to go home."  Tommy said softly.

"I thought you told me no," Jack said in a calm, cold voice.

Tommy was disturbed by Jack's reply.  In a flash Jack popped Tommy in the
mouth.  Tommy had never been punched like that before.  Completely
off-guard Tommy fell back on his ass and covered his throbbing lip.  Tears
streamed despite Tommy's best efforts not to cry.  Jack's shadow cast over
Tommy as Jack stepped close to him.  Tommy was afraid to look up.  Jack was
wearing his trashed Nike Turbo Shox.  They came into Tommy's view for he
was looking down in fear.

"Kiss my fucking sneaks and apologize faggot!" Jack growled.

Tommy removed his hand to see only a few drops of blood.  He touched his
lips a couple of times and sighed.

"Alright then," Jack snapped, "Get up and fight me then."

Tommy quickly positioned himself on his belly and began kissing Jack's
Nikes.  He did it several times.  They stunk from Jack sweating in them
from playing basketball.

"I'm sorry sir," Tommy whimpered.

Then he heard Jack's fingers snap.  "I will say this only one more time,"
Jack said in a clear, commanding tone, "Start licking those fucking shoes
clean!"

Tommy had no desire to make eye contact with Jack.  He was in pain and
scared.  He crawled over to the collection of boots, cleats, and sneakers.
He picked one up and started licking.  Jack watched him for a while.  Tommy
stuck his hand in a dirty pair of sneakers and started licking the dust off
the sides and tops.

"Be sure to lick the bottoms too," Jack instructed.  Jack continued to
watch as Tommy turned the old Adidas bottom to his face and made several
wide swipes with his tongue.  Tommy thought about what a sight he must be.
Coward down on the floor, licking an alpha's nasty sneakers with a fresh
fat lip.  Tommy didn't care what he had to do.  He learned his lesson and
did not want to provoke Jack further.  As Tommy started to lick the other
Adidas sneaker top he heard Jack slowly popping his knuckles.  An obvious
threat and show of dominance.  It worked.  Hearing Jack's knuckles pop made
Tommy lick twice as fast.

"That's more like it," Jack said.

Jack watched Tommy finish with the Adidas.  Jack finally started walking
away as Tommy started his second pair.  They were a pair of cowboy roper
boots.  Tommy was hastily licking the boot as Jack left the garage.  Tommy
did not hear him outside shooting hoops.  He had no idea where Jack had
gone.  It didn't matter though for Tommy had plenty of cleats and boots to
keep him busy for a while.

When Tommy finished with the boots he picked up an old pair of cleats.  Mud
was dried in the cleats.  His lip hurt, his mouth was dry, and his tongue
was brown but he dared not stop.  He didn't even feel human as he began
scraping the chunks of dried mud off the cleats with his teeth and
swallowing them whole.