Village overrun Part 1

    He’d heard rumors that such a thing would be possible, but he never believed it could happen, or would happen, to his village.

    The whispers told the same story - there were roving bands of women, searching for small villages, capturing males to take back to their city and enslave. Females in the villages that were overrun were given the option of joining the women or remaining where they were.

    One day the boy was out searching for food on the outskirts of the village when he heard male voices raised in alarm. When he turned back toward the houses, he saw the women, and saw one of them coming for him.

    He froze briefly, not sure what to do. Should he run from her, trying to hold onto the freedom he saw others losing before his eyes as the males he knew were tackled and tied up? Or should he surrender, put his hands up and offer no resistance, giving away the freedom he’d always taken for granted?

    The boy ran. It was far too late. In seconds, the woman had caught him and tackled him, and as he struggled, she pinned him down on his back, straddling his body as if he were a horse and pinning his arms down.

    “Help!” He called toward the village, as the woman smiled down at him. “Please, somebody help me!”

    He couldn’t move. She was so strong, despite her obvious and overriding beauty. He could see her hands, augmented with her bracelets, pinning his hands to the ground. He pushed with all his might but he couldn’t budge her, and the smooth female legs pressing against him were impossible to escape.

    “Nobody is going to help you, little captive,” the woman said mockingly, meeting his eyes. “You are taken prisoner, and within moments, you will be tied up and naked alongside the rest of the males you know.”

    He looked up at her and kicked his feet, lifting his head, and finding her immovable. She grinned, and he blushed, when he felt something odd happening to his body. He was feeling arousal, inexplicable, embarrassing, humiliating arousal, and she felt it too.

    “Males are funny,” she said. “You struggle and fight and beg, but you’re nearly always hard when you are captured.”

    She started to move his hands and place his arms beneath her legs. The boy struggled anew, but felt himself losing the fight.

    “Please,” he begged, his face reddening from shame and embarrassment. How could she, a female, move him so easily beneath her even as he fought to prevent it? How could he get captured like this, by a woman? How could his body betray him this way?

    “Poor little slave,” she mocked, caressing his face after she secured his arms beneath her legs and feet. “Begging me to let you go, but knowing it’s never going to happen. You are nothing now but a captured slave, and when I get you bound up, you will cry, and squirm, and wish you were free. But you will never be free again.”

    Part 2 coming soon - with acknowledgment to the extraordinary DCT Flatt for these otherwordly images!