Date: Tue, 18 Apr 2017 19:43:31 +0000 (UTC)
From: J H <jbcountry@yahoo.com>
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!

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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.'