This story is kind of a continuation of the Apocalypto scene where the prisoners are made to run to their freedom as they are being aimed at with arrows. I felt like it'd be interesting to see a glimpse of what the females might have suffered through too. My first story, be nice pls. Oh, and rated for rape.

I felt hot tears stream down my cheeks as I witnessed all of my villagers being killed slowly, one by one, right in front of my own watery eyes. I was tearing up so much and so fast that soon everything became a blur with a few seconds of clarity after each blink. I liked it better when everything was blurry. I turned my head away from the burly men shooting arrows and spears into the horizon, which would eventually impale the other villagers who were trying to get away. I looked away, now dry of tears, as they finished off nearly every villager. A few of them did get away, running for their lives into the endless cornfields. After it was all over, the tallest man at the front, covered in tribal ink and enormously gauged piercings, turned around. It was clear since the destruction of our village that he was the leader. I could notice him looking straight at me out of my peripheral vision. His tall, muscular, figure and thick, masculine hands stood out in particular. I could feel my heart race as he slowly walked towards me. Eventually he was standing right in front of me, most likely looking down at me.

I could only see his thick, long legs out of the corner of my eye as I focused on the warm, sandy ground. My feet were bare and ridden with small scrapes. My skirt had been torn at the side, revealing a large part of my upper thigh. My ivy green blouse was drenched in sweat from the heat, and I could see the outline of my breasts poking through my shirt now. I was so uncomfortable in this position. Lost in my own thoughts, I suddenly remembered that the leader was standing right in front of me.

He stood there for a long time. Maybe a minute or an hour. I don't know, but it sure did feel like an eternity. I finally mustered up the courage to look up, my eyes grazing his built, thick chest and all the way up to his cold, black eyes. I could feel the eyes of the other men on me. I broke down and began crying, scared of what would happen to me, but mostly because his stare burned through me and almost felt painful. Imagine what his own hands could do. As I thought about this, I felt a tight, cold grip on my upper arm as he roughly grabbed my arm and dragged me to a large wooden house in front of the field. I caught only a glimpse of it before he opened the front door and pushed me into a room filled with a few small beds. I could hear the men outside scattering around, most likely going home after the massacre they had purposely caused.

I sat on the corner of a bed and began sobbing into my own hands, hopelessly. I was scared. Was he going to kill me now? Strangle me with his own bare hands? I nearly choked just thinking about those massive hands wrapped around my throat. He walked towards me, his footsteps thudding against the hard, wooden floor. I looked up at him again. He was so tall his crotch area was nearly level with my face as I was sitting down. I turned my head away, only to have him grab my chin and forcibly turn my head to look up at him. I reflexively grabbed his arm, my puny hand not even halfway around the length of his forearm, and tried to push it away, but to no avail. He chuckled at my weakness, and I could feel my face growing hot.

'Get up,' he ordered. I obeyed, keeping my eyes on the ground. I was uncomfortably close to him now, as I was too scared to move farther than where I already was by the edge of the bed. I could smell him. He smelled like man and sweat. His bare chest and tan thighs glistened with beads of sweat. ' I noticed his hand getting closer and closer to me, but I had already accepted the fact that he would probably kill me. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, waiting for the pang of pain and impending death to hit me.

However, the only thing I felt was a cold, hard hand against the thin cloth covering my breasts. I gasped and pushed his hand away, which is when he grabbed me by my arm and forced me against the cold, wooden wall. I stood looking up at him, in shock and disbelief. Why did he do that? The coldness of the wall didn't bother me at all, but he was now only a few inches away from me. I could see the outline of his thick, veiny manhood against his loin-cloth which was now level with my stomach. He grabbed my chin and made me look up at his beastly face. 'Do you want to die?' he asked calmly, smirking. I quickly shook my head no, too scared to even remember words. 'So, you will do what I ask of you then, yes?' he asked gently. I started sobbing again and covered my mouth so I wouldn't scream. I looked into his cold eyes with my red, teary eyes and nodded yes.

'Good girl,' he said smiling, running his dirty, thick fingernails into my straight, black locks. He lowered his hand to stroke the side of my face, but I turned my face away from him angrily. To my relief, he backed up a few steps, however, he was still looking at me. I could see him divert his eyes from my tear-ridden face down to my ample breasts, and then down to my stomach and legs. And as I slowly put together why this was all happening, why he took me to the empty cabin, why he was being so physical with me, and why he was looking at me that way, I prayed that he would kill me instead.