Couldn't Escape

You're picking flowers by the river, near where it widens and meets the sea when you see the strange ship. It isn't of a design used by your people, it's too sleek and low in the water. You shrink away from the river, try to hide in the undergrowth, and cast worried glances in the direction of the town. There are more plumes of smoke rising than you recall when setting out and your heart skips a beat.

You run for the town, pushing through the forest that largely covers the island, and when it comes into view your dress is torn, your flesh is scratched. Some of the buildings on the edge of town are burn-out husks, blackened wooden frames, except for one. Barbaric-looking men clad in furs are occupying what was a storehouse, you see them come and go in small packs. Each has to duck to go through the storehouse's doorway, their bodies thick with intimidating muscle.

Distant screaming suddenly splits the air, new plumes of smoke rise skyward, and you look around to find a way into the town unseen. You nearly shriek when you spot a barbarian staring at you, only a gasp escapes, and you run, after a second hearing the sounds of pursuing footsteps.

The barbarian easily catches up to you, the breath leaves you as he pins you against the ground. You squirm, try to escape from beneath him, but freeze when you feel a hardness against your lower back. His chuckle is loud in your ear, he's grimly amused by your reactions, and his weight leaves you as he rises onto his hands and knees.

You take the brief chance for freedom, worm forward and push upward. After just a moment though a hard arm is looped around your throat, your feet leave the ground as you're pulled back against the barbarian's broad chest. His other arm destroys your dress, it falls away from your body to lie in a puddle, and you try to cry out as he gropes your exposed flesh.

You feel yourself going dizzy, feel your lungs demanding air that'll never reach them. Your heart is pounding in desperation, you can barely hear anything else, and then finally your eyes close, go dull beneath half-dropped lids. The barbarian senses your death, removes his aching cock from his crude trousers. His grip shifts, both hands grasp you at the waist, and you can only limply jiggle as he uses your corpse to slake the lust the chase has aroused.