Living Under the Boot of Rick

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

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Part X

Tommy pulled into the barn parking lot to discover that Rick's truck was there. As Tommy approached the barn door opened and Rick stepped outside. Rick's demeanor was one of seriousness. He was in full camo wearing camo jeans and hoodie, heavy camo hunting boots, and a camo Chevy cap turned backwards.

"I'm here master," Tommy said.

Rick closed the barn doors behind him and said, "I have fucking eyes; get in."

Without another word Rick got into his truck. Tommy stepped up onto the back bumper to get into the bed of the truck. He saw a gutted deer laying in the back along with a lot of trash. Beer cans, water bottles, spit bottles, food wrappers all littered the bed of the truck. Tommy nestled down wondering where they were going.

They did not drive far. Rick pulled off the driveway into the open pasture and to the edge of the woods. It was a cool night; but not as cold as it had been. The warm sunny day made a pleasant evening. Rick got out of the truck. Tommy remained seated awaiting instructions.

Rick was not about small talk. He was unbuckling his belt when he commanded, "Clothes off."

Tommy hesitated for only a few seconds. Rick pulled out his massive cock and began to shake and stroke it. Tommy pulled off his jacket and t-shirt. He was taking his sneakers off when Rick shouted, "Let's go faggot! I ain't got all night!"

Tommy doubled his pace. He had never fully exposed himself to Rick like this. It was erotic but also scary. In just a few more seconds Tommy was standing in the bed of Rick's truck with nothing but socks on.

Rick looked at him and said, "Give me your socks."

Tommy did not argue. He pulled his socks off and handed them to Rick.

"Mother fucker when I say get naked; I mean get naked!" With that Rick took Tommy's socks and flung them into the darkness.

Tommy was completely naked now. Even though it was a warmer autumn night; Tommy began to get chilled. Rick lowered the tailgate and snapped. He pointed to the ground saying, "Suck my cock fag."

Tommy slowly hopped down off the tailgate onto the soft, damp ground. He went to his knees to service Rick's cock. Rick was fidgeting around so Tommy looked up. He saw Rick removing his right hand from his mouth. He had just packed his lip with a dip.

"That's good faggot. Keep looking up at your master while you suck my cock. Eyes open so I can spit in them if I feel teeth."

Tommy moaned at the idea of Rick spitting tobacco spit in his eyes. His moan was muffled by Rick's fully erect cock filling his mouth. Rick chuckled. After a few minutes of sucking on Rick's shaft Rick pulled out and patted the tailgate.

"Up," was all he said as if he was giving a command to a dog.

Tommy pulled himself back up into the truck. The coarse spray bed liner was painful on his knees.

"Lay on your stomach; I'm gonna fuck your hole." Rick commanded. Tommy gently obeyed working around the trash and dead deer. He was on all fours moving some trash out of his way when his legs were jerked out from under him. Tommy grunted but before he could complain Rick pulled Tommy toward him where his legs hung off the tailgate. Tommy's dick and balls grated against the bed liner as Rick pulled him back. He cried out in pain.

Before Tommy knew it Rick's jock cock was jammed inside of him. No lube. Not even spit. Rick drove his weapon in without warning. Regular, forceful thrusts caused Tommy to whimper. Rick was grudge fucking him but good. Tommy couldn't help but to assess his situation. His naked body was mixed into the trash of Rick's truck. He laid next to Rick's latest kill. Rick's dick was tearing into his ass like a bulldozer. Tommy realized that Rick was sending him a message loud and clear. He belonged to him and no one else. Then one, no two, three hard slaps on and around Tommy's naked ass generated more pain. The sting of each was intense enough that Tommy knew they would leave hand prints. Tommy moaned in pain and delight. The next thing Tommy felt was Rick's large hands grasping his throat. Rick pulled Tommy's body toward Rick's invading cock. Tommy whimpered some more but Rick gave no signs of letting up.

Finally Tommy felt Rick's grip tighten and with one last thrust Rick stopped. Rick's cock deep inside of Tommy exploded filling him with a load of man seed. After several shots of cum filled Tommy, Rick released Tommy's throat. Rick pulled his weapon from Tommy's raw ass and stepped up into the truck bed. Tommy started to get up but Rick stepped on his back with his full weight forcing Tommy back down. Tommy groaned and then the heel of Rick's other boot landed directing in front of his face. It nearly clipped his nose. Rick's other boot followed and Tommy watched as Rick turned around. Tommy now saw both of Rick's hunting boots inches from his face so he lean forward and kissed the toe of the closest boot.

"Clean my cock faggot," Rick commanded.

Following Rick's orders Tommy pushed himself back onto his knees and began to suck clean Rick's cock. The familiar taste of Rick's cum was once again on his palate. When Tommy was done Rick said, "Lay back down." Once again Tommy laid down in the trash of Rick's truck. Rick sat on the edge of the truck bed and propped his boots on Tommy's naked back. Tommy was getting cold but he dare not complain. Rick was punishing Tommy and he knew it. Rick pulled out his phone and casually looked through his social apps. Occasionally Rick spit his tobacco spittle on Tommy's back and rub the bottoms and sides of his hunting boots in it.

Eventually Tommy felt the heavy boots pull from his back. Rick stood up and carefully planted his right boot on the side of Tommy's head forcing it to the bed. One of the boot's cleats dug into his ear.

"It hurts," Tommy pleaded.

"Shut up faggot," Rick barked. Another wad of spit hit Tommy's forehead. "You will learn your place. I have been too easy on you. Consider yourself warned!"

Tommy did not say anything. He figured it would be best if he didn't. Rick remained in that position for longer than Tommy had expected. The silence made it seem like an eternity. Finally Tommy felt a little more pressure from Ricks boot but it only lasted a moment.

Rick removed his boot from Tommy's head and said, "Put your fucking clothes on cunt." Then Rick hopped off the truck over the side of the bed. Tommy was cold and a little disoriented. This session was surprising more brutal than most. Tommy managed to get his jeans and t-shirt back on when the truck started. He flung his jacket on and hunkered down in the truck bed. The ride back to the barn was quick. Tommy braced himself for the ride. Each bump in the road jarred Tommy. Rick was not taking it easy off-roading.

When they returned to the barn the truck came to a quick stop. "Out" was the only word that Rick barked at Tommy. Tommy quickly climbed the tailgate and gingerly lowered himself to the asphalt parking lot. He was bare footed and held his tennis shoes in his hands. The backing lights came on so Tommy hurried out of the way. Before he knew it the truck was gone.

`He's pissed,' Tommy thought to himself and he went home.

Sunday morning Tommy was scheduled to work morning and afternoon. He awoke early to prepare the barn for the boarders who were sure to come after lunch. His mother was eating breakfast in the kitchen when he came in from his room.

"Hey honey," his mom said sleepily.

"Hey mom. What are you doing up? You should sleep in on your day off."

His mom chuckled and said, "My body is all screwed up from shift work."

"How is all that going? Any hopes of going on day shift?" Tommy asked.

"I doubt it," his mom replied somberly, "In fact, there is talk about a layoff and I am a recent hire. Your uncle is trying to ensure I stay on. Please don't upset our boss. We need him happy with us. By the way, how is your job at the stable going? Teddy says your dependable and doing a good job."

"I do everything they tell me to," Tommy replied a little defeated.

"That's a good boy," his mom commented. "Oh that reminds me."

"What?" Tommy asked.

"Teddy is having a picnic next Saturday. Since we both work for him he invited us. I need you to go and help me make a good impression."

"Saturday?" Tommy questioned, "I'm supposed to go fishing next Saturday."

"Thomas," his mother said sternly, "We live in fucking Georgia. You can go fishing any time you want. Saturday we need to go to this shindig. Trust me; I can think of a million things I'd rather do too on my day off."

Tommy huffed.

"We're going; end of discussion."

Tommy got up from the table abruptly.

"Where are you going?"

"Work," he snapped, "It's what we have to do."

Tommy drove to the barn. Sunday mornings are typically quiet. Tommy fed the horses and cleaned the stalls before anyone showed up. Despite the nice weekend, nobody was at the barn by the time Tommy finished up. He was about to go home for a while when his phone buzzed with a text from Billy, `clean my saddle b there soon.'

"Mother-fuck!" Tommy shouted nearly slinging his phone down the hallway. That last thing Tommy wanted was to deal with Billy. However feeling as though he had no choice; he decided to hurry. Perhaps he could get it clean and be gone by the time Billy arrived.

Tommy hurried to the tack room and retrieved Billy's large western saddle. It looked very expensive. He grabbed a saddle stand and set up his task. After collecting a few rags and some leather cleaner he polished the saddle; careful not to slick up the stirrups as he did once before. There was dried horse sweat under the saddle and on the billets. He polished quickly and after a short inspection, Tommy could finally leave. He was too late. He heard Billy's four-wheeler pull into the parking lot. Tommy surprised himself when fear rushed in. He ducked into a stall. Shortly after he heard Billy and another boy walking down the barn hallway. Tommy crouched down out of sight when the two boys walked by.

"Yeah, I like the bigger engine on the quad but nothing beats my dirt bike," Billy said walking toward his horse Nicker.

"I wish I still had my dirt bike," his friend said.

"I remember when your mom made you sell it. That sucks!"

"Yeah it did. Hey, where is that boot boy you said worked here?"

Tommy frowned hearing that comment.

"Hey boot licker!" Billy yelled and awaited a response. Tommy said nothing.

The boys were standing at Nicker's stall looking around.

"I guess he's getting some hay or some shit like that." Billy said, "The fucker better have polished my saddle."

"I can't believe he's your slave. I wish I had a slave to clean my room and shit."

"It's a sweet deal," Billy commented, "Dumbass thinks I have a video of him whacking off in Tank's stall."

"He does? Do you?"

"Nah," Billy confessed, "I saw him yanking his little dick but the video wouldn't take. It was too dark."

"What an idiot!"

Tommy was furious. How could he be so stupid to think that Billy could have recorded a clear video from a distance in a stall with low light?

Billy led Nicker from his stall to the wash rack. He went into the tack room and came out carrying his saddle.

"The bitch polished my saddle," he reported to his friend. "I told you he would."

"Nice. You should make him clean it everyday"

"That's not a bad idea." Billy replied. "I wonder where the bitch is."

"Probably hiding from you."

"Probably."

Tommy felt ashamed that they were right. He was hiding from them. A senior in high school hiding from two middle school punks. He tried to get the nerve up to appear and say something like, `no video huh? Fuck you then!' He wanted to badly. Billy had made him taste horse shit, lay in horse piss, polish his saddle, lick his boots, and who knows what else. But he knew he couldn't. He did not possess the balls it would take to stand up to a kid like Billy. Kid? What was he thinking? Next to Tommy, Billy was twice the man he was.

After the two left the barn with Nicker Tommy snuck out of the stall. He figured Billy would see him from the riding ring; but he would be too busy impressing his buddy with his great horsemanship. He was wrong.

As he opened his car door he heard Billy yell, "Hey boot boy."

Tommy sat down in his car pretending not hear Billy but he rode quickly to the edge of the riding ring and yelled, "Get your ass over here. Now!"

"Fuck," Tommy mumbled under his breath. He smacked the steering wheel and exited his car.

As he approached the riding ring Billy said, "You don't ignore me boot boy!"

Billy's friend snickered.

"Sorry sir, I didn't hear you."

"Whatever. Get in here."

Billy's friend had walked close and leaned on the rail. He was tall and lean. He looked like a basketball player. Tommy climbed over the rail and approached Billy as instructed. He feared what may happen next.

"Show my buddy Brandon how you show respect and obey me. Kneel."

Tommy decided he would take a stand. He would tell Rick's sadistic little brother to go `fuck himself' and his fake video. He would deny it all. Then a cold sweat came over Tommy. He took a deep breath and the next thing Tommy knew was he was on his knees. He didn't say a word. He was just programmed to obey. Fuck!

Billy circled around him a couple of times on Nicker getting closer and closer with each pass. He finally stopped with Nicker's side directly in front of him. Tommy's face was nearly level with Billy's left stirrup.

"You know what to do bitch; kiss it."

Tommy leaned forward and reluctantly kissed the side of Billy's boot sticking out from his stirrup.

"What a bitch," Brandon said with a laugh.

Billy smiled and made a figure eight pass returning to Tommy with his right boot near his face. Billy didn't even have to ask. Tommy kissed that boot too. Brandon snickered.

"That's a good bitch. Now, get out of here."

Tommy stood up and Billy smacked him on the top of the head. Nicker spooked but Billy settled him back down. Tommy instinctively returned to his knees. The smack hurt. It was much more powerful than Tommy expected.

"What are you doing faggot. Men are present! Leave on your knees!"

Billy and Brandon watched as Tommy shuffled through the ground on his knees. He was mortified but could muster no courage. When he made it back to the rail he ducked under to leave. Brandon had walked over to intersect him during his shameful exit.

"Show respect to me too," Brandon said. He didn't have the confidence in his voice that Billy had but he was standing and Tommy was still on his knees. Tommy hesitated.

"Do it!" Billy commanded.

Tommy looked down at Brandon's feet. He was booted too. By now Tommy figured all guys were born with boots in this part of the state. But Brandon's height meant a large boot. They looked huge but that could have been because Brandon wore his boots on the outside of his jeans. Tommy leaned down and kissed Brandon's right boot and then his left.

"This is awesome," Brandon said. "Do it again."

`What the fuck,' Tommy thought but he repeated the process.

"Lay down so Brandon can clean his boots," Billy commanded. Tommy looked over and Billy had ridden up to the rail.

Tommy laid on his back flat. He hoped that no one else would arrive during this humiliation.

"Go ahead," Billy said, "Clean your boots."

At first Brandon gently wiped them on Tommy's jacket. The damp ground mixed with the barn dust meant visible streaks of dirt as Brandon wiped his boot bottoms on Tommy's jacket. As he became more comfortable the swipes were harder as Brandon rotated between boots.

"There ya go," Billy said watching amused.

Tommy looked up and Brandon was smiling. By now he was twisting his foot to wipe the sides of his boots. When he was done Brandon held his right boot bottom to his lips.

"Kiss the bottom," he said more aggressively through gritted teeth. Tommy did.

Brandon switched and held his left boot to Tommy's face a little farther away. When Tommy reached forward to kiss it Brandon pulled his boot out of reach.

"Want it," he said lowering the boot back down to Tommy's face.

Tommy leaned forward again but Brandon pulled away again.

"Try harder," he said laughing.

Tommy laid his head back down and then the boot landed on his lips. Tommy was afraid Brandon busted it. Tommy couldn't kiss it because it was already pressed hard against his lips.

"There ya go boot boy," Brandon said with much more confidence.

After his was done amusing himself, Brandon slowly pulled his boot down towards Tommy's neck. It grabbed Tommy's lower lip wiping part of the bottom inside of his mouth.

"Have a taste," Brandon said laughing.

Billy laughed too and said, "Boot boy loves his job! Now get on out of here and don't forget to polish my saddle tonight. It better be fucking spotless!"

"Yeah. Now get the fuck out of here," Brandon said.

Tommy returned to his knees and scurried toward the parking lot. He tried not to hear the middle school terror's snickering at him. When he got to the paved parking lot he stood up and made a quick dash to his car. He was holding back tears as he drove down the driveway. He looked down at his jacket. It was filthy from the dirt on Brandon's boots. He hoped his mother was not home when he got there.

Anger welled up inside of him. He whipped his car off the road into the breakdown lane. Before he could change his mind he pulled out his phone and texted Billy, `I know there is no video clean your saddle yourself I'm not your bitch you dick.' He hit send. At first he was proud, then anxious, and finally terrified. It all seemed ridiculous. What was he afraid of? Sure Rick was a jock god; protective of his little brother. But how much would Billy even tell him; if anything?

Tommy's phoned buzzed with a text. He paused; nervous to read it. It was from Billy. It read, `u fucked up!!!!!!!!!!!!' Immediately Tommy wished he had not sent the text. What the hell was he thinking?

On the way to school the following morning Tommy was groggy. He got no sleep. He kept reading Billy's text over and over. He wanted to reply but didn't. He typed out several apology texts but deleted them all. He decided he would call in sick to work; faking a stomach issue after school. He could not afford to quit his job; but a day off might allow Billy to cool down.

At lunch Tommy ate alone. He wanted to talk to Ben but he was eating at the jock's table. Tommy found himself glancing in that direction often. Ben was sitting next to Rick. They were laughing. Tommy wished he could hear the conversation. His paranoia made him wonder if they were laughing about him.

During the last ten minutes of lunch Tommy looked over at the jock table once more and was surprised to see Rick walking towards him. The look on Rick's face was not pleasant. Tommy was becoming accustomed to the Rick `pissed-off' look. Tommy gulped at what he might say.

Rick sat in the chair next to Tommy and leaned in close. Rick was wearing jeans and a tight cotton shirt that cling to his muscles. He had a dip in Rick greeted Tommy by spitting on Tommy's shirt. Tommy was getting accustomed to wearing dip spit too.

Rick growled, "Care to explain this text I got from my little brother?" Rick stared Tommy down. Tommy feared he might land a punch at any moment. His arms hung loose between his legs.

"Rick," Tommy gulped, "I think there something you shou..."

"Don't give a fuck about what you think," Rick interrupted, "Did you tell Billy you wouldn't clean his saddle and call him a dick; yes or no?"

"Yes, but ..."

"Still not giving a fuck," Rick snapped. He sat up straight in the chair and crossed his powerful arms. "Okay then. Be at the barn tonight at 8. We will talk about this then." Rick stood up; his chest swelled and testosterone oozed from his pores as he walked away.

Fuck me,' Tommy thought, So much for calling in sick.'

At 7:45 that evening Tommy cringed as Rick's truck pulled into the barn parking lot. He heard two truck doors close. He looked as Rick and Billy walked into the barn. They went straight to Tommy who was standing in the hallway. Billy's saddle was on a saddle stand and it was polished to a shine. There was a pause for a moment. Tommy decided to speak. He couldn't stand the silence.

"Look," Tommy said, "I'm sorry I was such a dick to you Billy..."

"Shut up boot boy," Billy snapped. He looked at Rick for his approval. Rick nodded and Billy continued, "Apologize to me proper; on your knees!"

Tommy sighed and knelt before Billy and said, "I am sorry sir. It will never happen again."

Billy bitch slapped Tommy hard across the face. The force knocked Tommy over. He caught himself with his right arm before going all the way down. Billy kicked his arm out from under him and Tommy fell completely to the ground. A cold, dirty boot planted on his neck. Billy's right boot held him to the ground. From Tommy's vantage point he could only see Billy's left boot. He could feel the boot on his neck tremble with most of Billy's weight forcing him onto the ground.

"I could kill this mother fucker," Billy said to his brother.

"He does need a lesson," Rick replied.

"Like crushing his neck?" Billy asked.

"That's a little too harsh." Rick answered, "Besides, how can he serve us with a crushed neck? He needs a lesson in respect."

Billy looked down at Tommy. His face was turning blue from a lack of oxygen. Billy removed his boot from his neck and ordered, "Get up asshole."

Tommy coughed a couple of times and slowly stood back up. He had no idea what to expect but he knew; whatever it was, it wouldn't be good.

"Yeah," Billy said, "I'll teach him respect." Billy unbuckled his belt and pulled it off of his jeans. He doubled the belt over and held it in one hand. "Turn around."

Tommy took a deep breath and turned as instructed. He had brought this upon himself.

"Wait," Rick said, "Drop your jeans faggot."

"Yeah," Billy concurred.

Tommy slowly dropped his jeans. Fear welled up inside of him. He was about to be belt whipped by a middle school man. He understood that he deserved this. How could he be so disrespectful to his superiors?

The first strap across his ass was intense. Tommy grimaced and yelped. The second, third, and fourth were equally brutal but the fifth landed across the back of his thighs. They were cold from exposure and he was unprepared for it. Tommy jumped away and cried, "Please, no more!"

"Tell me thank you for the lesson," Billy ordered.

"Thank you sir." Tommy quickly said.

"You're welcome boot boy," Billy smiled, "Now turn back around for more!"

Tommy whimpered and turned back around.

"Tell me `thank you' after each lick," Billy said sadistically. Billy paused for a second and then landed his strap.

Tommy yelped again and said, "Thank you."

Billy enjoyed this; Tommy could tell. After each lash Tommy would cry out, "Thank you." After another six or seven licks Tommy's expressions of gratitude was barely audible. He could feel the whelps grow on his sore ass and legs. Billy was relentless.

Finally Billy stopped and said, "Turn around mother fucker."

Tommy turned around. Billy gripped his belt firmly in his right hand. Rick was standing next to Billy with his arms crossed; his lip was swelled with a dip.

Rick spit in his direction and said, "Go on; thank him proper now. Clean my baby bros boots up for him."

Billy smiled and said, "Spit shine them good boy!"

Tommy gingerly prostrated himself before Billy. He looked up. Billy still had his belt in hand and was smiling triumphantly.

Billy's boots were dirty. They had dried mud around the sides and they were covered in dust.

Tommy began licking; swiping the dusty boot top. His mouth filled with dirt from the dust. Billy made no effort to reposition them. He stood in the same spot like a statue with his belt in hand. Tommy had to work around his posture. It was slow progress cleaning the dried mud on the sides. Then he felt the belt again. It was no longer doubled over. Billy used its full length to make good contact on his butt and back.

"Faster," Billy commanded.

Tommy licked faster. This time using his teeth to scrape the mud off the boot sides. As he serviced Billy's boots he felt pressure and pain in his right hand. Rick was standing on it with his full weight.

"You heard him," Rick growled, "Faster!"

Once again Tommy felt he had reached an all new level of subhuman. Between licking boots, the intermittent lash of Billy's belt, Rick's boot crushing his hand, and the dip spit hitting the back of his head and back, Tommy was being reminded of his place among men.

As Tommy was finishing Billy's boots he felt the pressure ease off of his hand.

"Okay Billy boy," Rick said, "We gotta get home."

"Roger that," Billy said. He kicked some dust in Tommy's face and snickered.

As they left neither one acknowledged Tommy's existence. They just turned to leave like he was some boot licking machine. Tommy did not get up. He would wait until they were gone. As he watched them leave he saw Billy stop and look back.

"Hey Thomas," Billy said mocking Ben, "Are you going to clean my saddle for me tomorrow night?"

"Yes sir," Tommy answered softly.

"What was that?" Rick asked harshly.

"Yes sir," Tommy yelled affirmatively.

"You better faggot," Rick snarled. Then Rick and Billy left. He could hear Billy snicker at something Rick said to him. The two shared a fist bump and then they were gone.

Tommy just laid on the ground. He didn't move for several minutes after they left. He disgusted himself because he was rock hard and wished that Rick had fucked his skull before they left. Even after all the abuse Tommy longed for Rick's pipe!