Date: Sat, 24 Mar 2018 04:46:23 +0000 (UTC)
From: jbcountry@yahoo.com
Subject: Living Under the Boot of Rick ? Country Boy Domination |Part XX

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

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Part XX

Tommy moaned.  His alarm clock sounded like a siren; screaming at him.  He
must have hit snooze several times.  It was after nine and all the
ibuprofen in the world will not help this morning.  His body was stiff and
sore.  He regretted sleeping in his clothes.  They reeked of Billy's piss,
and now his bed did too.  Tommy had the morning shift off; however, he was
scheduled to close the barn.  Tommy's mind raced with emotions.  He needed
to talk to someone.  His heart yearned to hang out with Rick; but he could
take no more disappointment; not this morning.  Besides that, thoughts of
running into Billy terrified him.  He was truly scared of Rick's little
brother.  He felt ashamed to admit that, even to himself, but the truth was
the truth.

Tommy decided to text Ben.  He could really go for hanging out or fishing.
Today, Tommy would be game for about anything; so long as he could talk to
someone.  It was a nice day and being off during the daylight hours of any
given Saturday were far and few between.  Tommy wanted to do something;
anything but stew about Billy.

Tommy grabbed his phone and sent a text to Ben, `Hey – free today??
Want to hang out??'

Tommy waited, but there was no response.  That was out of character for
Ben.  Disappointed, Tommy decided to start the day.  He desperately needed
a shower to wash the stench of Billy's piss off him.  In his small bathroom
Tommy examined himself closely in the mirror.  One side of his face was
swollen from Billy's harsh boot.  Tommy moved his jaw around.  Nothing felt
broken; but it hurt.  The hot shower was blissful.  Tommy let the hot water
run down his back and sore muscles for several minutes.  He grabbed some
shampoo and caressed his penis; thinking about Rick.  Before long he was
rock hard imagined him with Rick.  They had been riding in some exotic
place, nowhere nearby.  Both were hot and sweaty when Rick gently turned
him around; gently fucking his ass.  Tommy exploded.  Shortly after blowing
his load, Tommy's phone buzzed.  Tommy hurried the rest of his shower up to
check his message.

`no.'  Ben's text was short and to the point.  It wasn't a typical `Ben'
response.

Tommy replied, `k, u ok??'

Tommy was disappointed and a concerned by the response.  If Tommy had a
friend at all; it was Ben.

Tommy was dressing when his phone buzzed again.  He quickly read the
response from Ben.

`just fuck off'

Tommy read the text over and over.  He would have never expected such a
response from Ben.  Something was wrong.

He was disturbed by Ben's behavior.  His mind raced.  What was wrong?
Eventually Tommy went to the kitchen to quietly make some breakfast.  His
mom was still in bed sleeping; she remained on the graveyard shift.  As he
was finishing up, Tommy's phone buzzed again.  This text message was from
Brandon.

`I got a nice new phone ... thanks!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!'

`What the fuck,' Tommy thought to himself; then it hit him.  Billy had
taken his money for Ben's new phone.  All of Ben's protective actions were
in vain.  Brandon got a phone, and by sending him an insincere `thank you'
text, it implied a much different message.  A message that says Brandon is
not afraid to contact Tommy; and he will.  Crap piled up on Tommy.  First,
he was savagely beaten by Billy, then Ben was unresponsive and rude, and
now Brandon is taunting him.

Ben's behavior troubled Tommy the most.  The more Tommy thought about it,
the more he had to know what was going on.  Tommy remembered where Ben's
favorite fishing spot was, so he decided to check it out.

The drive would have been pleasant if so much wasn't going wrong.  It was
nearly 70 degrees outside and sunny.  As Tommy pulled to the fishing spot,
he saw Ben's 4Runner parked.  Tommy had just stepped out of his car when
Ben rounded the corner of the worn fishing trail.  Ben's carefree demeanor
changed when he noticed Tommy.  The laid-back country boy's face grimaced
and became defensive.

"I thought I told you to fuck off," Ben said.  His tone was serious.

"What's wrong," Tommy asked, "What did I do??"

Ben stepped close to Tommy.  Tommy could tell he was examining his battle
scars from Billy.

Ben shook his head and said, "Shit Tommy; you have to be the most hated guy
I know!"

"What did I do?" Tommy repeated.

Ben opened his SUV's hatch and carefully returned his fishing pole and
gear.  Tommy said nothing more; he could hardly believe what was happening.
He didn't understand.

Opening the driver's door Ben looked hard at Tommy.  Ben was deep in
thought about what to say; but he only warned again, "Like I said, just
fuck off!"

Ben was turning to get in his SUV when Tommy grabbed Ben's arm.

"Please Ben, why are you pissed at me?" Tommy pleaded.

Tommy felt the warning flex of Ben's arm before he pulled away.  Tommy
didn't care though.  What's one more ass beating after the last 48 hours?

"Some of the guys, like Jack, think it's in my best interest if I cut you
loose as a friend," Ben finally admitted.

"I see," Tommy said with a lump in his throat.

"Here's some free advice," Ben said, "keep your head down, finish high
school, and get the fuck out of here."

Ben's advice, as expected as it was, hit Tommy like a ton of bricks.

"So, they want me gone," Tommy said.

"Hell no," Ben said frustrated, "they want you under their boots."

"Oh," Tommy said surprisingly relieved.

Ben noticed the relief and hint of pleasure in Tommy's simple reply.

"Jesus dude," Ben said, "that's exactly where you want to be isn't it."

Tommy did not reply.

"Hopeless," was Ben's final statement before getting in his SUV and driving
off.

Ben was right.  It was where he wanted to be.  It was what he was; an alpha
service faggot.

Tommy was operating off pure instinct.  He suspected the guys would be at
the high school practice field playing some backyard football.  He drove
there in a hurry.  He was correct.  The nearby lot was littered with dirty
trucks and a few sedans.  Rick and Jack's trucks stood out to Tommy.

Tommy embraced his identity.  His very nature forced him to park and head
to the practice field.  He would not be welcome to play or watch.  He would
only be used for a single purpose; the degrading service to his superiors.

With a lump in his throat and his heart racing, Tommy walked slowly to the
sidelines where several jocks were congregated.  The ground around them was
littered with Gatorade and water bottles.  Some of the jocks were
shirtless.  Their chests bore evidence of hard work and tackling with signs
of scrapes, sweat, and mud.

Rick and Jack stood next to each other near the center of the group.  Jack
wore tight football pants that clung to his sweaty muscular legs.  He was
shirtless with dirt clung to his chiseled chest.  Familiar cleats were
coated in the practice field's dirt.  Rick stood a little behind Jack.
Rick was wearing athletic shorts and a t-shirt.  The sleeves were ripped
out exposing much of his broad torso.  He too was wearing cleats like most
of the players.

Rick unleashed a good amount of tobacco spit just before he asked, "What
are you doing here?"

"Shouldn't you be cleaning horseshit boy," another asked.

Several smirks and sneers followed.  Jack crossed his arms; swelling his
chest as Tommy approached him.  The only silent jock was Jack.  His
controlling authority required no talk.

Tommy came dangerously close to Jack with his head down he said, "Your
cleats are dirty sir."

Tommy fell to his knees and gently started wiping the dirt of Jack's cleats
with his hands.

Jack finally spoke, "No."

Tommy understood the instruction perfectly.  He obediently lowered his face
to the dirty cleat and began licking it clean.  Snickers and grunts came
from all around as he made swipe after swipe; polishing the cleated Nike as
a good slave should.

`I deserve this,' Tommy thought to himself.  Each time he tried to be
someone or something he was not resulted in resistance and pain for him.
Tommy didn't care about the ridicule and judgements of his peers looking
down on him servicing Jack's cleats.  At this point, Tommy didn't care if
it was broadcast to the entire world.  At least he felt a sense of purpose
in his service to Jack's alpha needs and wants.

"There's a good bitch," Jack said in a surprisingly sincere tone.  After
Tommy cleaned both cleat tops, Jack said, "There's two sides to these bad
boys," Jack instructed, "on your back."

Tommy rolled over as ordered and stuck his tongue out for use.  Jack
positioned himself for wiping his cleats on the doormats tongue, briefly
holding a cleat over his head for Tommy to see what he was about to eat.
Jack's cleats were cleaner than Tommy expected.  Most of the dirt clumps
had fallen off and Tommy was left with cleaning only the mud stains and
small amount of debris stuck around the cleat's spikes.

After he was satisfied, Jack stepped aside.  Tommy started to get up, but
Jack forced him back down with his cleated foot.

"Whoa, whoa there," Jack chastised, "you're not done yet bitch."  Then Jack
addressed the jocks around and said, "the doormat is ready for your use."

Tommy felt Jack's cleat lift off his shoulder.  Tommy's eyes widened, and
he gulped as Jason peered down over him.  Tommy hadn't even noticed that
Jason was there.

"Don't mind if I do," Jason said with a wicked smile looking down at Tommy.
"Stick that shit licker back out boy; make my kicks fresh!"

Tommy begrudgingly stuck his dirty tongue back out.  If there was another
he disliked more than Billy; it was Jason, the bully from his first period
class.

Jason wasn't wearing cleats.  He had on some ratted out, trashed Nike Shox.
Tommy could smell their stench as the toe of Jason's left sneaker pinned
his tongue to his chin.

"Open wide pussy," Jason demanded.

Tommy complied with his eyes shut.  He knew what was next; and he was
right.  The prolonged nasally sound of snot being summoned soon manifested
itself as a nauseating loogie landing in the back of Tommy's throat.  Tommy
could taste it; it was disgusting.  Then the ripe sneaker lifted off his
tongue to commence its cleaning.  Swipe after swipe across Tommy's tongue
made it dry and raw.  How many times does it take?  Tommy was allowed only
a second to remoisten his tongue as Jason switched sneakers.

"Eat shit," Jason growled through gritted teeth and he cleaned his other
Nike.

Tommy could hardly believe it, but he almost wished Jack would take over
again.  Almost.  Tommy feared Jack above all others.  He could visualize
Ben against the wall with Jack's cruel finger in his face; warning him to
stay away from Tommy; or else.  Finally, Jason stopped abusing Tommy's sore
tongue.

"Who's next men?" Jason asked smirking down on Tommy, "Get you shoes fresh
with this state-of-the-art doormat!"

Then Jason spat in Tommy's face again.  Not another loogie fired with
precision for Tommy to eat, but a spray to cover his face in disgrace.

After Jason's invitation Tommy endured the familiar taste of another dirty
cleat.  Tommy didn't even know who's cleat he was cleaning.

"Suck the spikes cunt," a low voice ordered.

As Tommy complied by sucking the on nearest cleat spike, he felt others
wiping their shoes on him.  He couldn't even say how many; the sensations
were coming from all over his body.  Somebody was even wiping the sides of
their shoes in his hair.

The treatment lasted for a while; Tommy hadn't a clue how long.  Eventually
Tommy tasted his last cleat; at least for now.  Tommy was disappointed
though.  Despite the countless cleats he serviced, Rick's were not one.  He
figured Rick only watched the show in utter disgust.

Tommy was a little dazed when he rolled over back on his knees.  Jack was
standing near him talking to Jason.

"And you said he was useless," Jack said jokingly to Jason lightly punching
Jason in the arm.

"You were right I guess," Jason played along, "Congrats faggot, you have a
new job as our special equipment manager," Jason informed Tommy.

Not knowing what to do next, Tommy continued to follow his instincts.  He
crawled back to the feet of Jack and kissed each cleat.

"Thank you, sir," he said.

 Jack responded by spitting on him.  Perfect.

Soon the appetites of the jocks took control, and they made plans for chow.
They were bored of the doormat lying.  Tommy's mouth was full of dirt.  He
dared not spit in the presence of the men, so he swallowed the gritty
filth.  His clothes were stained by countless wipes.

`No matter,' Tommy thought to himself, that is the least of service he
could do for such superiors.  Tommy wondered, only for an instant, what it
would be like to be an alpha male.  The thought caused him to chastise
himself.  How could he dare to consider such a thing?  He knew what he was;
barely human, in the degrading service of the alpha.

"I bet you could use a drink to rinse all that shit down your faggoty
throat," Jack said.

The large tea cup in Jack's hand hadn't been tea for a long while.  The
bulge in Jack's lower lip was evidence enough that the cup was his spitter.

Tommy almost said, `I'm good,' but he caught himself.  He recalled the
horrific event where he accidentally gagged dip spit back in Jack's face.
This was Jack's ultimate test of obedience; one he failed miserably.  There
was no room to refuse or fail; Tommy knew what he must do.

Tommy took the cup Jack was handing down to him.  He stared hesitantly at
the task at hand.  The straw had a piece of tobacco stuck to the side and
bubble of dip spit were visible through the clear plastic.  His heart sank
at the weight of the cup.  A residue of watered down tea and ice had melted
and blended together by multiple injections of tobacco spit.  Tommy's
stomach rolled just at the sight of it.

"All of it," Jack said.  His fake sincere voice was gone; only an order
from an alpha still pissed by his sub's failure.

Tommy slowly wrapped his lips around the straw drawing a small amount into
his mouth.  It was intense.  The taste of tobacco commandeered his senses.
He swallowed hard and gagged.

"Don't you fucking spit that out!" Jack snapped, "Down it.  Now!"

The anger in Jack's voice struck terror in Tommy.  To make matters worse,
Tommy noticed Rick walking away; heading to his truck.  Tommy was alone
with Jack and Jason!  Tommy's heart raced so he started to drink.  Tommy
would have welcomed another dirty cleat to lick; anything but the torture
he was enduring.  Nothing was as invasive as the watered-down dip spit he
was swallowing.  Flakes of tobacco bounced down his throat and burned as
they went down.  Determined and scared, he made himself keep it down.

When he was finished, Tommy looked up to see phones capturing his
unpleasant chore.  He was light headed and dared not move unless ordered.

Jason put his phone down and said, "I'm starving Jack; let's go to Dairy
Queen and slam."

Jack nodded; not taking his eyes of Tommy.  Tommy could feel the weight of
Jack's stare.  His stomach was rolling hard.

"Yeah, okay," Jack agreed.

Tommy looked up awaiting orders.  He watched anxiously as Jack reached into
his mouth to collect his wad of dip with his thumb and index finger.  It
was a smooth, almost graceful motion; one that had been done hundreds of
times before.  Jack smirked down at Tommy as he flung the wad in Tommy's
face like he was pitching a baseball.  With Jack's precise, athletic aim,
the wad smacked Tommy just under his left eye; exploding on contact.

"Bulls-fucking-eye," Jason said laughing loudly.

Tobacco debris scattered all around Tommy's left eye.  Teargas would have
been less effective.  Tommy's tears poured out as his eye painfully burned.
Tommy instinctively started rubbing it vigorously.  He looked up to see the
alpha jocks walking to their truck to enjoy lunch; leaving Tommy in pain on
his knees.

Tommy slowly stood up to seek water out of his car.  After only two steps
his stomach rebelled, and Tommy puked violently.  Dirt, spit, tobacco, and
God knows what else bounced off the ground.

Tommy was upset; but it had nothing to do with the treatment of the alphas;
that was what he deserved.  He had upset Jack on several occasions,
disobedient to Jason, and betrayed Brandon with his whining to Ben.  This
was not how a piece-of-shit like him should serve the superior alphas
around him!  Tommy was fine with paying the price for his failures; that's
why he showed up at the practice field.  Tommy threw himself to the mercy
of an angry court of alpha jocks; his treatment was just.  No, Tommy was
upset because Rick had ignored him and left.  After all, Rick was the alpha
Tommy wanted to service the most.

The visual of Rick walking away dominated Tommy's thoughts as he drove to
the barn later that afternoon.  He would be early, but he wanted to do some
extra cleaning.  Extra efforts cleaning Rick's barn would be a service to
Rick; even though it wasn't the serving he yearned for.

Tommy's heart raced when he pulled into the barn's parking lot.  Rick's
truck was there!  It made Tommy both excited and nervous.  It was a pretty
day, so there were a couple other cars parked that belonged to boarders.
Tommy saw the privileged people watching their kids ride their horses in
the riding ring.  Rick was not in the practice ring; but Tommy noticed his
silhouette in the barn hallway.  The beefy jock was mounted on his horse
watching as Tommy entered the barn.

The sun was shinning bright.  After his eyes adjusted to the light in the
barn, the dark silhouette exposed the stocky Quarter Horse, Tank, and the
beefy jock mounted on the saddle.  Rick was back in jeans and wore a
tattered western shirt; worn thin by years of abuse.  Sticking through the
stirrups were Rick's boots; the boots that Tommy longed to be under.  The
reigns passed loosely through Rick's right hand which was covered by heavy
leather gloves.  Tommy's little cock was rock hard; he could feel his
underwear getting a little wet at the sight of his master.

"Sir," Tommy eagerly said.  The simple word said many things.  The way
Tommy said `sir' acknowledged his alpha presence, indicated Tommy's
inferior status, and requested orders all at the same time.

"Follow me," Rick ordered as he masterfully turned the reigns.  Tank turned
at Rick's command and started to walk.  Tommy followed behind Rick and
Tank; even at a walk Tommy had to quicken his pace to keep up.  Tommy was
surprised that Rick kept walking toward a riding trail in the woods.  Tommy
had expected Rick to stop somewhere near the barn to give instruction of
some task for him to do; clean a saddle, lick a MX boot, polish bits or
some other menial task.  Rick stopped at the trail head allowing time for
Tommy to catch up.

When Tommy was there, Rick ordered, "After you."

Tommy was a little nervous. but dared not question Rick.  The trail
narrowed quickly, and Tommy could hear Tank walking close behind.  Before
long, Tommy felt a forceful nudge on his back.  It was Tank's mussel
pushing him forward.

"Faster," Rick ordered.

Tommy increased the speed of his walk.  Tommy was not athletic and began to
get winded.  Each time he slowed Tank would be nearly on top of him.  Rick
did not speak or listen to the pleas from Tommy.  He would simply ride on.
Tommy pushed harder up the trail.  After what seemed like miles, the trail
widened to a clearing in the woods.  There were a couple of ropes secured
to different trees.  Tommy collapsed on the ground catching his breath when
Rick said, "Whoa."

"Pussy," Rick said as he dismounted Tank.

Tommy watched as Rick walked Tank to a nearby tree and tied his horse to
it.  There was an old, large tree log that Rick walked over to and sat
down.  He looked over at Tommy shaking his head in disapproval.

"You are such a pussy," Rick said disgusted, "I could run that distance
several times over in weighted gear."

Tommy said nothing.  What could he say; he knew he wasn't an athlete like
Rick.

Rick perked up and said in an eager tone, "Well you know what I like to do
to pussies?  I like to fuck pussies!  Get naked."

Tommy remembered that meant everything had to come off.  Tommy stood up and
undressed fully.  Soon he was standing but naked; feeling the crunch of
leaves under his bare feet.  In the shade of the woods Tommy cooled down
fast from his hike.

Rick stood up and faced Tommy.  Tommy trembled before the country boy jock
in front of him.  It was an awkward moment that did not last long.  Without
another word, Rick seized Tommy's hair and led him to the log.  Tommy's
tender feet hurt as he was marched on the hard earth to the log.  Rick
draped his naked body over the log.  The jagged surface of the log was
uncomfortable.  Tommy laid still and listened as Rick's belt was loosened.
Tommy waited in fear, yet eager anticipation for his master's large cock.
He did not have to wait long.

Soon the jock was on top of him and plowed into Tommy's hole.  Tommy yelped
loudly.

"Shut the fuck up," Rick snapped.

Leather gloves clasped together around Tommy's mouth.  Rick locked his
fingers together and pulled back; holding Tommy steady and driving his
massive cock deep inside.  Tommy's neck flexed backwards by the strength of
Rick's grasp.  Breathing became harder as the heavy leather gloves covered
a good portion of his nostril.  The scent of leather and horse on the
gloves filled Tommy's senses.  It was an unpleasant position, but erotic as
hell.

Rick held Tommy in position as he fucked him hard.  Tommy's could feel
Rick's frustration rage in the sexual act.  Rick began to pound harder.
Tommy's screams muffled into Rick' gloves; only heavy grunts from Rick
could be heard.  They were deep, and in full rhythm to Rick's thrusts.
Tommy endured the pain which seemed to be hitting everywhere in his body;
his neck being pulled back, his tender feet on the unforgiving ground, his
stomach pressed against the log, but most of all his ass being fucked hard
without lube.  Then in a swift motion Rick pulled Tommy back further,
locking down.  It felt as he was being folded in half when his ass was
filled with Rick's seed.  Tommy whined, and Rick turned him loose.

Rick stepped back a couple of paces.  Tommy remained on the log; catching
his breath.

"Clean me up," Rick ordered.

"Yes sir," Tommy said gently picking himself up of the log.  His stomach
was marked up by the barked surface.

Tommy fell to his knees; face to face with the pipe that just ravaged his
ass; cum was dripping off it.  He gently sucked it clean.

When Rick pulled out of Tommy's mouth he looked down at him; offering no
emotions.  Tommy remained quiet.

"On your stomach," Rick ordered.

Tommy complied.  The earth was a strange sensation under his naked body.

"So, you're just our fucking doormat, huh?" Rick questioned.

"Yes sir," Tommy said a little nervous.

Tommy felt Rick's boot wipe across the bare skin on his back.  It was cold
and gritty.  The other boot followed.  Each boot was wipe several times.
When the wiping stopped, Tommy thought it was over, but he was wrong.
Without warning the full weight of Rick was standing on his back.  The boot
heels dug into his skin as Rick balanced himself on Tommy's back.  Tommy
turned his head to find more air; breathing was a challenge under the
weight of Rick.  There was a shift to Rick's left boot, then his right boot
planted on the side of his face; pinning it to the earth.  Rick said
nothing as he stood victoriously on top of his faggot.  Tommy's ear was
crushing under Rick's unforgiving heal.  He was under Rick's boots.  He was
in heaven.