Suck-Past

Before talking to Prime I wanted to explore a little more. I walked the streets once more, looking around with intent. The fuckery was everywhere. How did I not notice before? I saw a store window that had erotic displays of mannequins showing off slutty maid outfits. After stepping closer I realized all the mannequins were different variants of women I knew all standing still in sexual stances. I examined one closely. Maby? Maby was another person I knew. She was a curvy slightly plump blonde with curly blonde hair, freckles, white eye makeup, decent tits and a nice plump ass. When I knew her she had somewhat of an innocent white girl vibe yet here she was, displaying her cleavage through a heart shaped cut in her maid outfit. I had always wanted to grope her plush ass through the jeans she always wore but never had the confidence to make a move. She was always so nice to me. I decided to keep walking the streets. So many people I knew were being walked on leashes or used. Despite just cumming I was hard again already. This place was paradise for me. But while walking I saw the strangest thing. A shop called Suck-Past. In the windows I saw pillories with women. Instead of people I knew like every other **** I've seen thus far, there were women from history.

First up was Cleopatra. She was dressed in gold fishnet leggings that ended before her crotch as to hug her thick thighs and push up her ass. She wore, almost like a joke, a regal crown. Her eyes were lined with dark kohl and lips painted with gold lipstick. Her sweet caramel body was covered in glitter and had gold shackles around her wrists and ankles.

Next to her was Marilyn Monroe, dressed in a tiny white dress that was torn in the back allowing easy access to her holes. Her red lipstick was smeared and her makeup was running down her face, leaving streaks of black mascara on her cheeks. She had bruises that looked fresh, and her eyes were bloodshot as if she had been crying.

Then there was Marie Antoinette, adorned with a tight corset that pushed her breasts up, in a very uncomfortable manner. Her face was painted with an unnaturally pale white makeup that made her look like a doll. She had a cheap, fake looking plastic tiara on her head in contrast to her giant wig and, of course, a 'Let them eat cum' sign around her neck.

The display continued with a barely-covered Sacagawea, her breasts adorned with leather tassels that swayed with her movements. A fur bikini bottom and a collection of beaded necklaces and bracelets jingled as she was breathed heavily. She had been painted with warrior stripes across her face, but the sadness in her eyes told the real story of her enslavement.

The grand finale was Helen of Troy, a show of legendary beauty and sexual objectification. Dressed in a skimpy toga that barely contained her breasts so tight. Her elegant golden locks were now a tangled mess. She wore a cheap plastic tiara, mocking her royal status. He was **** by bars tied to her body to stand with a **** arch of her back, pushing her breasts out even further. Her wrists were bound with leather strips, and her ankles were shackled together with metal chains, hobble-style, to prevent any attempt at dignity.

I couldn't believe what I was seeing. It was like a twisted historical wax museum where the figures were real, and their only purpose was to serve the sexual whims of their Eric masters. I felt arousal and confusion, but the arousal was winning. I stepped into the shop, my eyes scanning the room for more historical icons turned sex dolls.

"Welcome to Suck-Past!" an old looking Eric greeted me with cheer. He began to twirl his very mustache looking mustache. "Looking for a taste of history?"

"What is this place?" I asked, with shock. "Are we capable of time travel as well?"

The Eric with the mustache chuckled. "Ah, you're new to this? I can see your right handed, is that correct?"

"Yeah,” I replied, lost. “Aren't we all?"

"Well no," He chuckled again, "That's your reality! You come from a dimension where right handed people outnumber left handed people instead of the other way around."

"Um... Sure?" I was utterly confused.

"Well that's what makes your dimension and the surrounding ones unique!. Now that we have access to you and your surrounding worlds, we can fuck all the right handed Kaylans, Lolahs, Rebeckas and so on that we can get! To get **** alternates we need to actually go to those dimensions and kidnap them ourselves meaning some slaves are easier to get than others." He pointed to a Cleopatra in the corner, "Now she was quite the catch. Took a whole team to get her. And the kicker? She didn't even know how to suck dick. We had to train her for a week to get her to be good enough to be displayed.”

"Wait, hold on. So we have a finite amount of slaves in this Eric society?" I asked

"Each Eric has about 100 dimensions near theirs when we make contact with them and there are only about 1,000 Erics in our society meaning we, in theory, can only have 100,000 versions of one woman. That may seem like a lot but not all dimensions are the same. Maby doesn't exist in every single one and even in the ones she's in, she might be a dead, or a giant or a cat woman. We also have to worry about the danger involved in acquiring them. Some dimensions know how to fight back or might have protectors. That's where I come in. Well, that's where I used to come in, I'm retired now. I was an extractor tasked with going on to dangerous worlds to catch dangerous game such as high value guarded slaves or fantastical characters. I used all the Eric dollars I earned to settle down here and run this antique store."

"What happens if we run out of a particular person?"

The mustached Eric's smile grew wider. "Ah, that's the beauty of our society. We're always discovering new Erics and new dimensions. It's like a buffet that never ends, my friend. Every Eric that joins brings us all more sexual options."

I looked around the room, still trying to process the depravity. "I'm still confused on why people from the past are here. Are you capable of time travel?"

The mustached Eric leaned forward, nodding his head. "Time travel? Oh no, my dear boy, we don't mess with that. But, when we discover a dimension, we find that there are mirror worlds with almost the same timeline but different. Sometimes it's just slight, other times it's a whole new tech or species. These historical figures are from those mirror worlds. Very similar to ours but different due to any number of reasons. Look over there my boy" The mustache Eric pointed across the room.

My eyes followed his finger to a figure dressed in the attire of an antebellum **** owner. This very pale Eric looked like he stepped straight out of the 1800s. His shirt was unbuttoned, his pants were down. Kneeling behind him was a figure that looked eerily like a young version of United States politician, Kamala Harris. She was dressed in a collar, a blue suit with generous cleavage and a hole torn in her suit pants for ass access. Her face was one of misery, her hands in a wooden pillory. The southern Eric leaned back with a twisted grin spreading across his face as he pulled her head closer to his exposed asshole. "You know what to do, ebony queen" he drawled, mockingly. Her eyes met mine, filled with sadness. She looked up at me with a silent plea. I wasn't gonna stop this hilarious display.

I watched with fascination as she began to lick around his asshole with a tongue that looked surprisingly long and skilled. He moaned in pleasure, his hand on her head guiding her movements. "That's it," he said with a chuckle. "You love to serve your master, don't you?" She didn't respond, just kept licking and sucking as he spit down at her.

"Southern Eric there isn't from the past," clarified mustache Eric as he regained my attention. "He's from a world where the big bang happened 200ish years later and the south won the civil war. Specific versions of slaves are hard to come by meaning you'll have to pay big for them unlike the typical variants you can get for basically free."

"Pay big? You mean the Eric money you were talking about? I don't have any of the money we use here." I said, lost on what to do next.

"Don't worry," the mustached Eric waved his hand. "We got you covered. Every new Eric that joins gets a starter pack. You've earned some Eric Dollars just by joining us. Think of it as a signing bonus." He handed me a card. "You can enjoy this paradise just fine without money but if you ever want to start earning so you can buy land, rare slaves and gadgets here, I recommend you speak with Eric prime. Maybe right handed slaves from your home world might be worth a lot. There are a lot of pleasures beyond a quick fuck with an old crush." We both looked over to southern Eric.

Southern Eric, completely unaware of our conversation, had gathered a group of black female historical figures around him. They were dressed in degrading, overly sexualized versions of their original clothing, each wearing a collar with a tag. "Now, now, gather 'round, my dark delights," he announced in a thick drawl as he took off his pants and plopped down onto a sofa in the Suck-Past.

The first of the girls, the legendary african warrior Queen Ana Nzinga crawled forward resting her head on his inner thigh. He stroked her cheek before pushing his thick cock into her mouth. Her eyes rolled back as she took his length, her own saliva mixing with his precum. The irony was lost on him but not on her. Colonization was now being used to exploit once more. She stuck her face deep down until her lips were pressing up against him then began to suck her cheeks hollow. Her tongue massaged and applied pressure to the underside of his cock. At no point releasing her tight lips or suction, she began to bob her head up and down. Keeping a hateful glare with southern Eric the entire time. Another variant, Beyoncé went under the Queen and took his sack into her mouth, rolling the balls around with her tongue as she did so. It was clear she had been used for a very long time. Spit from Queen Ana Nzinga would build up at the base of southern's penis and drip down to his sack. Beyoncé licked up quickly after.

A young Josephine Baker, kneeled beside the sofa. "You know you love this, don't you, sugar?" she said with **** sweetness but dripping with obvious bitterness. "You've always loved it when we know our place." She went under his shirt and rubbed his chest. "Look at me," she continued, her voice sultry but subtly sarcastic, "A proud, talented woman, reduced to a plaything for the likes of you." She leaned in closer, her hot breath against his ear softly moaning out "But here, in this twisted world, I get to serve…"

The Southern Eric's eyes rolled back as Queen’s mouth went into max speed and pressure. Beyoncé had moved to his inner thighs, kissing and licking up to his stomach, leaving a trail of saliva. His face contorted pleasure and arrogance as he watched a bastion resistance serve him so submissively. He grabbed her curly hair and pushed her down hard, causing her to gag. Her eyes watered as she took him in deeper and deeper. With a groan, Southern Eric climaxed. Queen Ana Nzinga's didn't miss a beat, taking the dick out with a loud pop, she allowed a satisfying cum shot to coat them all. The room was quiet for a moment. The cum shot painted the faces of the Queen and Beyoncé. White cum dribbled down their black cheeks and chins. Southern Eric took a moment to catch his breath. He looked around the room, his eyes falling on Cleopatra in the pillory. "You," he said, pointing at her. "Be a sweetheart and clean us up, why don't you?"

The Cleopatra variant looked at him with resentment, but she knew better than to refuse. She stepped out of the pillory with the help of Josephine Baker, her gold fishnet leggings off her jiggling thighs. The chains attached to her wrists and ankles rattled with every step she took towards the sofa. The Southern Eric didn't bother to get up. He just leaned back. The other historical figures didn't move either, they just kept their eyes on the floor, as if they were used to this sort of thing.

Cleopatra knelt before the Southern Eric, using her tongue to start licking the cum off his cock. She started at the base, her tongue moving in slow, deliberate circles. The Southern Eric started stroking her hair. "Good girl," he murmured. "You know your place."

She worked her way up, the sensitive skin of his shaft collecting the salty mess. When she swallowed everything down, He nodded, and she turned to the first girl, Queen Ana Nzinga. With a gentle touch, she began to lick the cum from her cheek. She cleaned up the other girls and was led back to her bindings. Southern Eric slapped his knees and got up with a "Whelp! I'm off now" before waltzing out the door while whistling.

The experience was wild to watch. I exchanged a farewell with mustache Eric and headed out the door. If I ever wanted a cool place or a unique **** of my own, I was gonna need a Job. I figured it was time to visit the citadel and see if Prime had any work for me. Although I had no idea how to navigate the Eric city.