Living Under the Boot of Rick – Country Boy Domination |Part XXI Author: JB jbcountry@yahoo.com [Please feel free to email comments.]
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From Chapter 20 . . .
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.
Part XXI
Tommy's ear began to throb; as did his penis. It was painful, but erotic. Rick was still and quiet; like a stature had been set on top of him. His ear became numb.
"Thank you, sir," Tommy said to break the silence.
"You're awful loud for a fucking doormat," Rick said in a matter-of-fact tone.
Taking the hint for silence, Tommy remained quiet and still until Rick finally stepped off him. The side of Tommy's face endured Rick's wait as he stepped of with his left boot.
"Holy fuck," Rick exclaimed looking down on Tommy, "what a sick boot print!"
The earth was cold and jagged under his naked body, so Tommy started return to his familiar kneeling position. He hadn't made it far when Rick's boot caught him and forced him back down.
"I didn't say you could get up doormat," Rick snapped.
Rick took his phone out; he wanted a picture of his boot print embedded in Tommy's flesh.
Rick's left boot was planted very near to Tommy's face as he took a picture. Tommy could smell it. Instincts took over and Tommy began to lick the toe of Rick's boot. It was dusty, and the familiar taste and sensation of dirt and grit filled Tommy's mouth.
"Clean `em good bitch," Rick ordered.
Following orders, Tommy shifted over the top of Rick' boot and began long, slow strokes on the dusty leather boot tops.
Rick snickered. It was evident that Rick was enjoying his dominance more than usual. Then Tommy heard the familiar sound of a Skoal can being packed. Tommy knew this meant Rick would relax and be in no hurry. A few swipes of the tongue would not be sufficient. Rick was expecting his boots to be cleaned.
Rick typically wore his jeans over his boots; however, today the boot tops showed. Tommy noticed Rick wore his boots this way when he was riding. His jean legs bunched and stacked at the top of his boots forcing the worn leather tops into folds. As Tommy moved toward the top of Rick's boots, he discovered the folds collected more dirt and dust then usual. `Great.' His task required Tommy to stick his tongue deep into the folds. Each time, Tommy would have to swallow due to the amount of sticky muck that formed on his semi-wet tongue. Tommy worked diligently; spit shining Rick's boots proper. Rick was quiet; the only sound being dip spit unleashed to the ground; near Tommy's head. Tommy could smell the vile wintergreen spittle; his stomach rolled recalling previous encounters with tobacco spit.
As Tommy finished the second boot, Rick instructed, "Don't forget your favorite part!" Rick twisted his right foot on its side; exposing the boot bottom.
`Fuck,' Tommy thought as he looked at the boot sole. Towards the toe was only dusty treads, but in the arch was dried horse shit. Tommy licked clean the sole, except the arch. As he moved to Rick's other boot Rick shifted.
"Inspection time," Rick said catching the boot Tommy cleaned with his hand to view the sole.
"What the fuck," Rick growled as he noticed the dried horse shit. "Are you blind faggot?"
"No sir," Tommy replied nervously; dreading the task ahead.
"Are you deaf?" Rick continued to interrogate.
"No sir."
"So, your just stupid and disobeyed me," Rick snapped.
Tommy was silent. He was busted and any response from him would only make matters worse.
"That's strike three," Rick said.
Tommy had almost forgotten Rick's system of strikes. He didn't know what his other strikes were; but he was smart enough not to question Rick. He nervously listened to the jingle of Rick's belt buckle being loosened and the sound of his harsh leather belt being pulled through the loops of Rick's jeans.
Without warning the wide leather belt contacted Tommy's soft exposed ass. The intensity of the initial sting caught Tommy by surprise and he yelped loudly.
"Shut the fuck up and take it," Rick snapped.
The belting was swift and hard. Tommy buried his head into the harsh earth to muffle his screams. Another lash came, then another, then another. It was more the Tommy could bare so he lurched away.
"Hold the fuck still," Rick ordered as he planted his boot on Tommy's back forcing him down and still. More lashes came. The pain was intense.
Tommy was crying when Rick stopped.
"Now, clean my boots right," Rick ordered in a clear and direct tone. He warned, "If not, it's the belt again!"
Intent on a good job, Rick instructed, `on your back.'
Tommy looked up as the belt dangled from Rick's right hand. It was ominous and threatening. His ass burned. He deserved this. He rolled over and opened his mouth; he dreaded what was next.
Rick rested the arch of his boot over Tommy's mouth.
`Lick it clean,' Rick ordered in a stern voice.
Tommy instantly went to work. It was a foul taste; not completely unfamiliar, but not one he would ever get used to. Mud and dirt had a gritty, earthy taste to it. Horse shit, however, was a flavor of its own. Tommy anticipated another inspection by Rick, so he frantically licked over and over; occasionally scraping the boot with his teeth, then polished again with his tongue. Tommy could not see his progress. He repeated his process over and over; fearing an incomplete job. As the bottom became wet with his saliva, Tommy sucked on the boot; hoping to satisfy Rick's expectations.
"That's what I want to hear!" Rick said, "Either you sucking my cock or the shit off my boots you worthless little fag!"
Tommy continued his work and was surprised to hear a chuckle from Rick.
"You're such a fag," Rick sneered, "look at you with a little boner; licking my boot!"
Tommy hadn't noticed but Rick was correct; he had a throbbing erection.
"They should castrate you fags," Rick said.
Rick's tone made Tommy nervous.
"Get on all fours," Rick instructed, "stick that faggoty ass in the air and spread those little stick legs of yours."
"Sir?"
"Now!"
Tommy slowly rolled over and assumed a crawling position. His heart was racing; and his body quivered.
"Higher fuck-tard," Rick ordered.
Tommy did as instructed; sweat beaded all over his body from nerves.
"What are you?" Rick asked.
"A fuck-tard," Tommy said with a nervous and cracked voice.
"Yes, you are," Rick agreed as he punted Tommy's balls; holding nothing back.
Tommy nearly passed out. He fell into the fetal position and moaned in pain. His erection was gone; he wondered if he'd ever have another. Tommy's breathing was labored as he fought the urge to hurl. He cringed as he heard Rick stepping around him. Rick stopped near his face. Tommy flinched as Rick's boot forcefully landed near his face.
"Thank me for helping you faggot," Rick ordered, "kiss it." Rick sneered.
Tommy had kissed and licked many boots, cleats, and sneakers. This kiss was different though. His lips often puckered up against harsh boot leather out of respect for his alpha; but this kiss was hastened by fear.
"You disgust me," Rick growled; spitting forcefully onto his face. The thick tobacco spit clung across his face like a burst of cum. The intense smell caused Tommy to gag a little. Rick walked away towards Tank. Rick mounted his horse and with a cluck and gentle kick, he was gone; leaving his fag naked, fucked, beaten, spit on, and nearly castrated. But what hurt the most was Rick's last harsh comment, `you disgust me.'
By the time Tommy felt like dressing and returned to the barn, Rick was gone.
Sleep was a challenge that night. Tommy's stomach was in knots. He figured it was the tobacco spit and dirt; but mostly Rick's aggressive punishments and comment. Tommy desired to serve Rick's every need, but now he was anxious about it. Tommy knew Rick did not approve of him servicing others without permission. Was Rick's actions a result of feeling betrayed? And, if so, did that indicate some level of affection? Tommy could only guess for Rick was a man of action; and few words.
Things were quiet for a few days. Tommy did not see or hear from Rick; but Rick monopolized Tommy thoughts for he was haunted by his last encounter. Tommy, paranoid about disappointing Rick, had no contact with anyone; aside from a few odd looks and smirks from football players who were present on the practice field. Tommy was being judged and he knew it; he just didn't care. Only Rick mattered.
It wasn't until Wednesday night when Tommy was forced to interact with someone. He was finishing his chores up at the barn when Billy and Brandon came into the barn. Tommy wasn't sure what they wanted; he just knew whatever it was wouldn't be good for him. There eyes locked on Tommy as they marched toward him.
`Fuck,' Tommy thought.
"Suck my cock faggot," Brandon boldly ordered wasting no time.
Brandon was dressed up more than usual. He wore nice jeans, a button-up flannel shirt, and boots. His hair was combed; not in it's typical messy state. Billy was not dressed up. He was in worn jeans, a Nike hoody, and ratted out Osiris sneaks. Billy's flat-billed skater hat was turned backwards. The mean little shit was cocky as usual and spit towards him. Tommy didn't feel it land on him; but he suspected he was the target.
"You gotta do," Billy said with a smirk, "because his date was a bust."
"Fuck you Billy," Brandon said half serious; half joking, "sixty bucks for dinner and a movie and she couldn't even give me head."
Billy giggled. Brandon opened an empty stall door and stepped inside.
"Come on boot-boy," Brandon order, "on your knees; I'm backed up."
Tommy was conflicted. He enjoyed Brandon's cock, but was haunted by Rick's actions. He knew he would not approve. But he would also not approve ticking Billy off either.
"Go on," Billy ordered, "service my boy; he's having a rough night."
Tommy reluctantly entered the stall and Billy followed behind.
Brandon already had his cock in hand; shaking it at him.
It was piece of art to Tommy; long, hard, and full of cum. Tommy was hypnotized by Brandon's cock; completely helpless to its needs. Billy's commands were no longer necessary. Tommy fell to his knees and devoured it.
Brandon moaned and rolled his head back in ecstasy.
Billy commented, `You do like dick; don't ya faggot?"
Tommy couldn't answer; his mouth was full. Tommy bobbed his head up and down the veiny shaft. Brandon remained still; letting Tommy do all the work.
It wasn't long before Tommy felt Brandon's pipe swell even more; he knew he was about to nut.
"Fuck," Brandon yelled as he grabbed Tommy by the back of his head.
Brandon nearly doubled over as he pumped Tommy full of his seed. Tommy couldn't taste the most of it as it jetted straight down his throat. Brandon kept his dick in Tommy's mouth; even after it finally stopped pumping cum. Tommy savored Brandon's dick as it softened on his tongue.
"Fuck, I needed that," Brandon said to Billy. Then he looked down at Tommy; his cock still parked in his mouth.
"I believe the man asked you a question," Brandon repeated, "Do you like dick?"
Tommy started to pull off, but Brandon stopped him. It was clear he wanted an answer with cock in mouth.
"Yes sir," Tommy replied with a muffled voice.
"What was that?" Brandon asked again. He snickered.
"Yes sir," Tommy repeated; again, his voice distorted by the dick in his mouth.
Billy and Brandon laughed. Tommy felt Brandon's dick begin to swell again. This boy was vigorous!
With his head held still, Brandon began to pump his penis in Tommy's mouth with even slow strokes.
"What are you?" Brandon asked.
"A," Tommy paused, "fagwut."
The boys laughed again.
"That's right," Brandon growled, "a fucking – cum eating – faggoty – cum dump." His words synchronized to now much forceful strokes of his cock.
This time Tommy was enduring the entirety of Brandon's shaft. Tommy coughed and choked; but Brandon continued to force his dick deep inside. The second round took longer; but eventually Brandon seeded Tommy again. This time not nearly as much; but Tommy tasted it all. When Brandon was convinced his nuts were empty, he pulled out. Tommy gasped for air.
"Good faggot," Brandon said; smacking Tommy softly a couple of times on his face.
As he carefully tucked his dick into his jeans, Brandon asked Billy, "You gonna go?"
`What?' Tommy thought. The idea of sucking Billy seemed forbidden and against the rules.
"The sluts a pretty good cum dump," Brandon commented.
Billy stroked his dick through his jeans. Tommy watched as an outline began to show.
"I believe I will," Billy said, "I've not showered in a few days; the bootlicker will love this."
Brandon stepped aside, and Billy took his place. Tommy remained on his knees; frozen at the task at hand.
Billy loosened his belt and fly; his jeans fell around his feet. Billy wasn't as beefy as Brandon. His penis protruded though his boxer's opening. His cock was smaller than Brandon's. It was very average; except for the smell. The smell was intoxicating and horrific at the same time; straight boy funk.
"Go on then," Billy commanded, "polish my knob."
As instructed Tommy took the head of Billy's penis in his mouth. The taste left much to be desired. Tommy began to swirl his tongue around the head and gently suck; but Billy was either to excited or impatient. Moments into his task Billy grabbed Tommy's hair with both hands and began to fuck his mouth; humping him like a rabbit with rapid strokes. With his nose repeatedly buried into Billy's nasty pubes, Tommy gagged on the smell. Fortunately for Tommy, Billy did not last long. In no time Tommy's mouth filled with Billy's cum. It was foul; bitter and salty. Tommy's inclination was to spit the nasty giz out; but he knew better and choked it down.
"Swallow that shit," Billy commanded with an evil grin.
Then Billy looked up and asked, "Fuck ... oh hey bro; when'd you get here?"
Tommy froze and his heart jumped. He turned his head and looked up. He was horrified to discover Rick standing in the barn hallway watching through the bars of the stall. A dead silence followed.
"Got some cum to dump?" Brandon asked Rick; breaking the momentary awkward silence.
"I'm good," Rick said in a strange tone.
"He's all warmed up for you," Billy said, "if you don't mind sloppy thirds." Billy laughed.
Tommy's heart raced; he was sure he was a dead man.
"Piss on him," Rick said and walked away once again.
"What's his deal?" Brandon asked Billy.
"Who knows," Billy replied. Then he said, "You heard the man; piss on him."
`Fuck,' Tommy thought; for a multitude of reasons.
Tommy was not looking in Brandon's direction, but heard the familiar sound of a zipper being pulled. Billy penis was still out. Tommy looked up to find Billy's penis in hand; pointed in his direction.
Billy's stream took a moment to start; however, he felt Brandon's warm piss hit his head and neck; running down his back.
"Open your fucking mouth," Billy said with a devilish grin.
Tommy was fucked now; he felt completely worthless. He wanted to run, but his instinct was to obey. Before he realized it, his mouth was open wide. Billy's piss stream trickled up his body. As the stream gained momentum, it hit its target. Tommy's mouth filled with bitter urine.
"Drink up fucker," Billy commanded.
Tommy swallowed; over and over until the rancid piss slowed. Tommy fought the urge to gag. He looked up at Billy in complete obedience unaware of a final burst of piss from his cock slit. The short stream shot into Tommy's right eye; burning like a mother-fucker!
Tommy grimaced and instinctively lowered his head; rubbing his burning eye.
Tears poured from his eyes for many reasons.
"Later fag," Billy said as he and Brandon exited the stall, "oh and," Billy continued, "polish my saddle before you go."
"Yes sir," Tommy said defeated.
"Hey," Billy snapped, "I said polish my fucking saddle, boy."
In a fake, chipper voice, Tommy replied, "Yes sir!"
"That's better bitch," Billy said, "Remember dumb fuck, no leather shine on the stirrups; lick those clean!"
"Yes sir!"
Billy gave Tommy his famous threatening and angry glare, then walked away with Brandon. Tommy half listened as the boy's voices faded away, "Every man should have a faggot; they are handy for many things..."
Man,' Tommy thought to himself, they are ten times the men I will ever be.' He wondered what it would be like to be them; leaders and powerful. He was, is, and will always be a tool for men like them to use, abuse, and walk away from.
With the foul taste of Billy piss in his mouth, Tommy walked over to where Billy's saddle was perched on its stand. He picked up the dirty, heavy stirrup and started licking it clean. This was going to take a while.