What the hell, why not? (Permanence Route)

Once I wash my face, I stare in the mirror for a moment, then shrug before getting dressed. I cross the hall to Lucas' room. He's sitting on his bed, nude, his legs hanging over the edge of the high mattress, with his feet not touching the floor.

“Lock the door, fag,” he says quietly, and I sigh but turn, shutting and locking his door, “Good fag. Come, boy.” I breathe in deeply as my little brother commands me, then turn and go to him, kneeling down as he told me to back in the bathroom.

I lean toward his cock, and he gives me a firm slap, “Kiss my feet, first, fag. Both of them.”

I stare up at him for a moment, and he slaps me, again, for my hesitation, “Now, faggot. I will expect obedience.”

I bend down and kiss the bridge of each foot, then lift back up and lean in, and he allows me to lick his cock. He nods as he looks down at me, and I wrap my mouth around his crown. He puts a hand on my head and pushes, and I slide down on it.

“Now, you're clearly not gay, or queer, or whatever, you're clearly a faggot that deserves to be owned, used as someone sees fit,” he says, and I moan, sucking his cock, but he holds me firmly down, not letting me up so that I could respond.

“You need a Master, fag. I could be that Master,” he says, “I will lay out for you what your life would be if I were that. Are you interested, or willing to at least listen? Moan your answer, cocksucker.” He looks down at me, but doesn't let me up.

I groan, but as an affirmation, and he nods, “Now. If I owned you, I would use you as I see fit. Sometimes cruel and rough, usually not. You would be free use for me, mom, dad, your friends, my friends. You'd be required to tell yours upfront.”

“Anyone who has free use of you is allowed to use you however they want,” Lucas continues, as I suck his cock, his grip preventing me from bobbing my head. He's using me as a cock-sheath, not a cum-dump, right now. Not much difference.

“You'll continue college, because I don't want a stupid faggot,” he says, “Albeit I may call you stupid or dumb occasionally. If I'm in a bad mood. There will be consequences if your grades slip. Consequences that you will not enjoy, and shouldn't.”

“You will also tell your classmates and professors, and make it clear you're available for their use,” he continues, flexing his fingers in my hair, “but that they must pay to use you. If they're interested, you give them my cell number and kneel.”

“You will address me only as Master. I will be your living god,” he says, “my words are your only commandments. You'll do exactly as I say at all times. There will be consequences and punishments if you mess up. No objections, no complaints.”

“You will have only what rights your god gives you,” he says finally, pulling my head up, “Do you understand, faggot? You may speak but answer correctly or you will be punished. Do you understand, faggot?”

I moan as my mouth slides up his cock until he pulls my head completely off his prick. I take a deep breath, and then, nod, answering cheekily, “Yes, my Lord.”

The pushback is immediate. A cold, hard, merciless snap of his free palm across my face, so forceful it jerks my face to the side, before he shoves my head back down on his cock with a fresh red mark for my trouble, “Stupid cheeky fucking fag!”

“Although,” he sighs in pleasure as my lips slide down his rod, “I do like that. Clever. You may address me as Master or as your Lord, either way, since I would be your god, if you accept me as your Master and Owner. However ...” He pulls again.

I look up and he backhands me as hard as he can, reddening the other side of my face, “Never show any such sass, again. Do you understand, faggot?”

“Yes, my Lord,” I answer subserviently, eyes dropping from his eyes to his cock, and he nods, satisfied.

“Now, I don't get to cum again tonight unless you decide you want me for your Master,” he says, and I look up, “Do you want to accept your little brother as your god, Simon?”