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Hunter in the Wrong Place

Tara growled at herself as she stood over the bones of a dead dezelle, silently vowing to do everything she could to bring its killer to justice. She worked as a conservationist at the Wild World Foundation, a government funded environmental team that had cordoned off large swaths of lands to be used as reservations for endangered or uncommon species, where they could not be hunted by people. The concept of having protected land was a rather new one in her home nation of Tehgol, but it was one the government - and she in particular - had pushed hard for, as hunting was getting out of hand.

That's why she was so angry to have been witnessing a series of kills on the dezelle in the plot of land that she was responsible for protecting and managin. The species was a nomadic hybrid of deer and gazelle, known for living on the vast plains of her great nation but also spending nearly as much time in the forests that dotted the landscape, which was where they bred and reared their young before returning to the savannah. They were protected in the forests, but fair game on the fields, which made sense to her given that only adults and the strong were roaming the open land.

Yet, over the past few weeks, she'd found one killed and stripped of its meat each week like clock work. A hunter was using this area to prey upon the dezelle, and that needed to stop.

Tara left the bones in the glade for the ants and other creatures to feast upon, knowing full well that there were hyenas that would make a meal of the marrow and remnants of meat on the bone. She headed back to her outpost, where she had maps and charts and resources needed to defend the region if necessary, which it had become. There, she started working out her plan to catch this dastardly poacher in the act and bring them to justice.

She sat at her desk with a pencil in her maw and a map splayed out behind her showing the entire reservation, including the location of the forests, altitude, rivers, lakes, and other physical features that would help her to set a trap. The entire layout was simple, with three quarters of the land comprised of open plain with the occasional tree or boulder dotting the long-grassed plains, and the remaining quarter a circular forest with a strip of trees connecting to the jungles to the west. That's where the poaching was happening, directly in the middle of the circular forest in the center of the land.

Her plan was simple, but would require finesse to enact. She knew what time the kills happened, she knew the clearing that the hunter was using, and she knew that this hunter used bows and a hunting knife to take down their kills. At first she wasn't sure how she would utilize that to her advantage, but ideas came flooding as she imagined how the scene would play out, with her snaring the hunter and making him pay for his crimes against the land.

After many hours of plotting, planning, and refining her ploy, she finally wrote everything down and set a time and date. While her mind was on bringing this criminal to justice, she still had a job to tend to and she knew that if the pattern persisted, no illegal hunts would take place for another week, so she could put that off to the side in order to focus on other things such as the campers that were trespassing on the protected land just beyond the border.

If she could convince them to move their site a few kilometers west, they would be off the land that was protected and would be in the proper, public camping zones. It wasn't safe there, given the jungle cats, but the same could be said for the forests along the western border of her reservation.

Alas, she had work to do, and had to get busy.

Syrus sauntered away from his kill with a whole sack full of meat and a coiled up hide from the dezelle. He would eat well this week, as he had the past weeks in the month leading up to this. As a kobold, he didn't need to eat much, so a single juvenile dezelle could feed him for days, and whatever wasn't grilled up that day could be smoked for jerky. What he didn't eat, he could sell at market for some coin alongside the hide, this making this a sustainable, profitable hunting location.

He was new to this adventurous lifestyle, having recently broken away from his time as a perpetual victim. For much of his time in these lands, he was sold and bartered, used for the sick entertainment of others such as in gladiator contests or just for physical labor. Despite being smaller than the average person, kobolds were known to be strong, quick, and adaptable, which is why his kind was so often subjugated to the lower rungs of society alongside laurossins and other semi-sentients.

This lifestyle hardened him, giving him the inner strength and quiet confidence needed to overcome any barriers or obstacles that were presented to him. His strong, stoic behaviour lent itself well to his new life as an adventurer, as he had few connections, a powerful sense of self preservation, and the ability to enjoy the serenity of solitude.

Having only recently escaped the life of servitude to a rich, upper class canine family, he was not too well versed in the rules and laws of the land, which didn't bother him considering he was a nomad as opposed to a citizen of any land. Though he sought a life devoid of conflict with the governments that cut the land into nations, it wasn't much of a concern for him, which was why he didn't realize that he'd been illegally poaching the dezelle in the Tehgolian bush under the scrutiny of Tara's eye. All he saw, and all he cared about, was getting easy kills and feeding himself.

That's what was going to get him in trouble, and he had no way of knowing. All he knew for sure was that he had a lot of meat to eat and to smoke, he had a hide to sell for some coin, and he was living well enough to be proud of himself. In his mind, his goals were as simple as finding a merchant willing to buy what he was selling, and then he would come back the following week to get more from the same glade that had been so generous with him.

One week later, Tara was prepared to set the trap for the poacher. In the time between their last kill and this one, she had collected a very nice and well crafted hunting knife, a high quality bow, some rope, and all the tools needed to set up the same sort of rope snare one would use to catch a rabbit, only instead of a carrot or lettuce, she was using the high quality hunting weapons as bait.

She knew that it would be peculiar and bordering on comical if she just left a pile of perfectly arranged, brand new weapons laying out on her trap, so she instead took what she knew about this poacher and used it against them. Given the times of the kills, she knew what time the poacher arrived and likely where they had waited for the kill. She knew that they used a bow and arrow to shoot down from in the lowest branches of one of the nearest trees, then used a hunting knife to finish the creature off. A good hunter lays in wait for hours while setting up traps, so Tara knew that this hunter likely arrived early in the morning, so she had very little time to prepare herself.

If her calculations were correct, she could place the pristine hunting knife in one of the nearby bushes, angling it just right so that the sunlight would stream through the treetops and reflect exactly where she expected this hunter to be camped out, waiting for the dezelles. If they arrived early, then it might take some time for them to see the weapon. Once that happened, though, they would then turn from the spot near the bush to see a quiver of arrows and a finely crafted bow made of rare and incredibly high powered rockwood.

The plan, and the hope for Tara to have this scumbag get caught in her trap, relied on this precise sequence of events. They would arrive at their hunting spot, camp out in the tree, the sun would move in the sky and eventually reflect directly at the hunter's face, prodding them to go and pick up the knife; from there, they would turn and go towards the bow and arrows, the path from the first to the second a direct line passing over the snare. It couldn't fail unless the hunter was also drunk or sick.

Given the clean nature of the prior kills that this poacher had left in the prior weeks, Tara highly doubted that to be the case.

She tested the rope of the snare one last time, and quickly disappeared from the clearing to make her way towards the camouflaged outpost she'd made about fifty meters south surrounded by bushes and covered by felled branches. From there, she had a perfect line of sight to the clearing and could keen an eye on her trap without anything obscuring her view. She could use her binoculars to better survey the land, thus ensuring she missed nothing.

Content, she slipped into her outpost and sat back to get comfortable. Half of it was underground, given the fact that she needed to stay low and was over two meters tall herself. She didn't want to lay on her belly for the hours it would take to capture this hunter, so she dug a pit and made the outpost comfortable without being obtrusive. Inside, there was only a lounge chair, a table, and a chamber pot since she knew she couldn't risk leaving for the entire duration of her stake out.

"Well, now we play the waiting game." She said to herself, bringing her binoculars up to her eyes. "The most boring but essential game of all."

Tara grabbed at a meat sandwich that she'd left on table for her trip and started munching, the sound of her chewing quickly getting on her nerves considering how quiet it was beyond the walls of the outpost. Though Tehgol was a subtropic area, this forest was on the less tropical side, more reminiscent of the vast woods of the north than the jungles of their eastern neighbor, Arrenthen. For this reason, there were fewer vocal birds or buzzing bugs to make up the white noise of the region.

Hours passed without any evidence of a hunter coming to this location, so Tara started to drift off. As a nap quickly overtook her, she found herself thinking that maybe it was better to stay awake, in case the poacher arrived but didn't set off the trap. Much as she wanted to ensure he was caught, punished by being stranded upside down, part of her wished she could chase him down herself, hunting him as he'd hunted the dezelle of the forest.

Her mind quickly devolved to fantasizing about a scene wherein she tackled him out of the tree as he was about to take a shot at a baby around the edge of the herd. The hunter in her fantasy was a he, of course, because why wouldn't it be? She would tackle him and he would run, giving her chase for only a few minutes because her legs were much longer and she was better equipped to run through the dense forest that she protected.

When she inevitably caught up to this poacher, she'd pin him to the ground and force his face into the dirt as she tied him up. Once he was immobilized, she opened her jaw wide and-

Tara shook herself out of her fantasy to realize that her free hand was down her pants and her binoculars were resting on her chest. She felt the slick warmth of her pussy as her two fingers had entered, rubbing at her flesh to coax out some of her arousal. The thought of personally taking down the person responsible for killing the creatures on her watch was making her excited, and the idea that she may have gotten joy out of dominating another made her feel a little ill, so she rubbed her fingers off on her belly fur and leaned in towards the slit in her outpost, focusing more on the clearing.

She had a job to do, it wasn't her job to punish but only to capture. She must remember that. Hours later, she heard the sound of a rope being yanked through underbrush and the startled squawks of a thousand birds all taking flight at once. She'd caught the bastard, and now she needed to go and apprehend him in order to give him in to the authorities.

With a fluidity unnatural to her kind, Tara slipped out of the bunker to meet his hunter, ready and eager to exert her dominance over him. She may not want to hurt him, but the idea of having bested another and bringing them to justice made her so wet that her panties were dripping; not a good look as she burst through and rummaged past the many bushes of the forest.

One more week, one more kill to feed him. Syrus grinned as he held his hunting knife close to his body, bow slung over his shoulder. Just like every other week, he knew that the dezelle herd would be passing through this forested region soon enough, and that was when he could make his move.

The time in town had been very profitable for him, as he was able to successfully sell the hide and make one hell of a profit on the spare meat that he didn't eat, smoke or give to some of the kids in town. The silver coins he made from those transactions gave him enough to buy himself a nice leather and hide vest that kept him warm at night without stifling his movements in the day. He was able to barter quite a nice deal from the fur trader to which he had been selling the dezelle hides, agreeing to only sell to him in exchange for discounts on replacement hide armor.

Everybody won in that transaction. Syrus, though silent and reserved, was quite talented when it came to bartering and finding the best deal. Regardless of his size at less than a meter and a half tall, he had an imposing nature that made merchants want to work with him. He wasn't nasty, he didn't use threats, but his deep voice and assured mindset made it clear that there was more to him than it seemed.

So now he was back, and was considering bagging two corpses instead of one. He was strong enough to drag them both back to town, and the money he could make from that would be a great start to his empire. Still, that would be hard to accomplish, knowing how fast the dezelle moved once the first was struck with an arrow.

If nothing else, Syrus could stay in his perch and decide when the time came what he wished to do. He hopped up the trunk, using his talons on the bark before grabbing at the lowest branch to flip himself upward, landing on a thick branch about four meters off the ground. Perfect height to make a kill, and not so high that he couldn't just leap down and land safely. Kobolds were spry little folks, naturally adept at jumping and leaping and climbing.

He remained silent, as any hunter should, without motion for the better part of the morning. He expected the herd to arrive just after noon, so he had some time to kill. There wasn't much to do in a tree overlooking a forest glade, so he carved out some bark and used the tip of his knife to draw a picture inside it, one that looked like a warrior with the same fur and leather armor he wore, except this warrior was massive, protecting and defending a city from a full sized dragon.

The image was quite nice, so he put it in his satchel for safe keeping. He did this every week with the new bark carvings that he liked to keep at his home in High Forest Pass. In the mean time, noon was nearly upon him as evidenced by the rays of sunlight streaming down through the cracks in the treetops, reflecting off the green of the nearby bushes and making the brown of the ground look more like golden yellow.

From there, a glint could be seen in a nearby bush, reflecting the sunlight directly into his face. Curious, he cocked his head to the side to alter the angle in order to get a better look. To his shock, it was a hunting knife! His first instinct was not to go and grab it, but to wonder what it meant. Was there another hunter in this region scoping him out? Was he to expect competition? Maybe he could find a hunting partner? Were hunters being hunted?

Too many questions, and not enough answers.

Syrus got to his feet in the tree, narrowing his eyes to glance around and check to see if there were any others. He needed to be careful now, for an errant blade could mean one of many things.

After ensuring that there were no others in the immediate vicinity, Syrus hopped down out of his tree and landed in the middle of the glade, crouched down and cautious. Still no evidence of anyone nearby, so he daintily stepped over to the bush where the hunting knife could be found and used his own knife to peel away the twigs and leaves obscuring it. He wanted to be careful, to take note of every little detail surrounding it. If there was a string or this was a trap, he had to know.

Syrus was no fool, and quickly discerned that there were no strings, no triggers, and no indication that this blade was trapped. Of course, the possibility of it being bait was quite low, but what made him even more curious was that there seemed to be no hint of blood on it. No stains on the metal, no crimson hue upon the hilt, and not even the faintest show of wear or tear. The blade itself was immaculate, perfect, and he was quite sure it was unused.

Regardless, he felt he would be a fool to not take it. A blade of that caliber was to be revered, utilized, and respected. His hunting knife was nice, but it was rudimentary and had started to grow dull. He was considering buying a new one from High Forest Pass's marketplace, so this was perfect for him.

Even as he reached out into the bush, he moved slowly to ensure he didn't trigger anything, moving one branch and twig away before wrapping his fingers around the hilt and pausing one last time to test for reactions. When nothing came, he contentedly pulled it out of the bush and held it up in the sunlight, reveling in the perfection of the blade itself. He quickly deduced that there were no strings attached, literally or figuratively, so he spun it around a few times to feel the weight before slipping it into his holster next to his other knife. A great start to what he hoped would be a great day.

Then, as he turned around to go back to the tree in anticipation of the dezelle herd that would soon be passing through, he caught the slightest glimpse of something else hiding under the edge of a bush on the other side of the glade. He could only see half of it, but from what he could see it was a bow made of the angular wood of the rockwood tree, dark grayish green with what looked like swirls of black marbling through it that made it stronger. The entire thing looked like it was made of centimeter cubes, aside from the swirls at the end that the string wrapped around.

This sort of weapon was very, very high end. An average sized bow could launch an arrow hundreds of meters with ease, due to how firm yet malleable the wood of the rockwood was. This was not a blessing at this point, but a bad omen. Either he was being duped or someone died here before they ever got a shot off with their bow, and they may have been perched in the same tree he called his home.

Syrus knew this was bad news, so he decided that he needed to go. Rather than take a step towards the bow, he grabbed both his new and old hunting knife just in case, ready for a fight. As he moved to exit the clearing, a snap could be heard followed by a rope snaring his ankle and pulling him off his feet with such force that he slammed his head on a nearby rock, knocking him out before holding him high above the ground, dangling head down where the blood pooled.

He quickly lost consciousness and dropped both knives as his bow fell from off his torso to the ground. The last thing he saw before blacking out was the tall form of a gnoll slipping through the bushes, shaking her head at him.

Tara pushed the bushes to the side as she slipped into the clearing, making herself known in the process. Syrus was dangling upside down, barely conscious for only a few seconds before he lost grip on his lucidity and passed out. "Well that wasn't the intention." She said to herself as she huffed and put her hands on her hips. "So what do I do now?"

Her thoughts migrated to the idea of just slapping him awake, but she had no interest in harming him so she opted instead to find some water. There was a stream nearby, so she was able to take her mug and fill it there before returning. Being knocked unconscious was quite bad for anyone, so she figured it was better to wake him than to just cart him off to the authorities. She wanted him to know that he had been bested, why he was in trouble, and what was going to happen before she had him locked up. As she stood next to his unconscious, gently swaying body, she considered taking a sip before splashing it in his face.

Syrus sputtered and flailed about, coughing as he woke. "What's going on?" He spat, enraged for only a moment before his more level head took over. After centering himself and taking in a deep breath, he returned to the situation with a more polite and reserved tone. "Sorry about that. Care to tell me what's going on here?"

"You're awfully calm for someone who got caught poaching on protected land." Tara explained to him, slowly shaking her head in disapproval. She then leaned down and grabbed the bit of rope that led to his snare, which in turn allowed her to control how high or low he went. "Got anything to say for yourself?"

His face scrunched up in confusion as he growled lightly. "Poaching? Poaching is for trophy hunters, not adventurers looking to feed themselves and sell the hide. What are you talking about?"

She scoffed. "Clearly you don't know or understand the laws around here. I presume you're either stupid or foreign; either way, I'm going to educate you before you're taken by the authorities."

"I'm listening." He said, crossing his arms over his chest as he tried his best to keep his gaze on her even as he gently rotated in the air.

"This region is protected by the emperor of Tehgol, where this whole forest is considered to be the nesting, breeding, and sleeping grounds of the dezelle population. While hunting them is fully legal and permitted when they're out in the plains - for meat and hide only - killing them while in this protected region gives you the same punishment as poachers who illegally kill endangered or protected species. Therefore, once it becomes clear that you were caught attempting to hunt the dezelle, then you're going to be thrown into a dungeon to live out your days, where you belong." She also kept her arms crossed with the end of the rope in hand, trying to look intimidating. Not hard, considering she was in complete control of the situation.

Syrus didn't seem to be in any way upset or scared about this. "That's not how it works. I'm a kobold, we're considered to be lesser species, and therefore we're allowed to live off the land regardless of the emperor's decree. You're breaking a law by holding me here against my will, and I demand you let me go now or I will be sure to have yo-"

"There's no such law, nice try. You really don't know how much trouble you're in, do you?" Tara interrupted, half-cocking a grin as she knew she had him. Also, part of her wanted to break him, to catch him in a lie or to outsmart him. He seemed to show no remorse, and for that she was going to delight in scaring him, even though she had no desire to actually hurt him. Not her style.

But he continued to be insistent. "No law? Are you sure about that? I am friends with the mayor of High Forest Pass, and he gave me access to the books concerning local law. I read them all carefully before hunting in this area, and it clearly said that no hunting shall happen on these protected lands unless for food or by one of the native races. Kobolds are one of the native races."

She slowly shook her head. "I work here, it's my job to know these things and I can assure you that there's no such law protecting you from the consequences for your actions. If there was, I'd know about it, but nice try, I like it when my prey resists me. Gives me more satisfaction."

"Prey? What are you talking about, I thought you were going to be handing me into the authorities, where I would inevitably be released due to the fact that you don't know what you're talking about." He hissed at her, breaking a little knowing that it was only a matter of time before she realized he was talking out his ass.

Tara grinned and licked her chops, leaning into him as he dangled above him. "You came to my land, my reservation, and hunted my creatures in a habitat that they came to see as a safe haven for breeding, sleeping, and rearing their young. Laws or not, I would be remiss if I didn't make you feel that same fear before being done with you." She reached out and cradled his chin, rubbing it gently as she gaped open her maw to give him a good look at where he was going.

That was the very moment where Syrus started to realize that Tara wasn't kidding around. His eyes bulged out and he started to flail, pushing at her snout to keep his own muzzle from being dropped into it. "Look, I'm sorry, I didn't know there were laws about that, until recently I-" He started, only to be interrupted by her sass.

She closed her maw and cocked her head to the side. "What was that? I thought you were feeding me a line about laws and native races and all that. Now you're pleading ignorance? Very questionable, sir kobold. I think you know full well that you broke the law and thought you wouldn't get caught, but you chose the wrong reservation to prey upon, and now I prey upon you." She grabbed at his horns and pulled him down towards her gaping maw, wrapping her lips around his muzzle as her tongue lapped at his chin.

"Stop! I promise I'll never hunt here again! I didn't know! I couldn't know!" His muffled voice reverberated deep in her throat, his exhalations practically inflating her gullet in the process. He was genuinely worried at this point, repentant and willing to change.

But Tara didn't know that. She was caught up in the situation and felt a certain sensation of self satisfaction having so thoroughly taken control of the situation, catching him in a lie, and having the means to punish him. She wasn't going to hurt him, but he didn't know that; he couldn't possibly have known that she could hold her prey in her belly for further processing later. As far as he knew, she was just going to eat him, like the animals he killed.

"You're right, you're never going to hunt here again." She confirmed, slipping her shirt off and tossing it to the side as her free hand slipped into her pants to feel the moisture of excitement soaking her panties. The thrill of the hunt was in full force and she knew it was only a matter of time before she let it overtake her, so she didn't bother restraining it. She grabbed at his horn again, tugging him down and forcing his entire head into her gullet, which she gulped and tugged at as she growled in delight, grinding her hips into her own fingers.

Syrus struggled and tried to grab at her muzzle to pull himself out of her, but found it fruitless as her powerful jaws clamped down around his head, trapping him there. Despite having his entire skull trapped between her upper and lower jaw, all cradled by the sensual motions of her tongue, he did find that he was able to nuzzle and move around inside with relative ease, his chin being especially liberal with its bulging in her gullet.

In response to his struggles, Tara extended her head upwards like a snake, elongating her neck while gaping open wide. She twisted and clamped down in order while trying to find the best angle to swallow him, while he flailed and pressed out against her throat. The struggle continued to excite her, so she switched hands in her pants so that she could better hold onto the rope that held him.

As he began to truly panic, Syrus began kicking and tugging on the rope around his ankle in a vain attempt to release it from his limb, but it was fruitless. Her jaws held him tight, her flesh smothering his snout, and her teeth clamped around his neck. There was no escape from this and he knew it, yet something felt off to him. She held him tight, this was true, but she only used the force needed to keep him in place, not the full force that her gnoll jaws offered her. She could have burst his skull open like a melon, yet he noticed that, despite the circumstances, he was actually comfortable.

Syrus' head was lodged deep in Tara's gullet, and it felt almost pleasant to him. This was odd, but it made him realize that she wasn't actually trying to hurt him, but was almost certainly little more than a scare tactic; she had made it clear she wanted him to feel fear as his victims had, but had made a big deal out of saying she was going to take him to the authorities. She didn't want him dead, she wanted him to be complacent!

So complacent he would be. Once he had determined that he wasn't going to be struggling anymore, he relaxed and kept his breath held, scales rubbing to the hot flesh of her throat amidst every gentle swallow and subtle lick of his chin.

Having sensed her prey's acceptance of his place inside her, Tara reached up to slice the rope off his ankle while also gaping her maw open wider, head reared back to let gravity do its job as she caught him by the midsection and helped force him down. His entire upper body slid through her open maw, with his snout slipping into her snakelike throat, bulging it out as her jaws squeezed his arms to his side. She had him now, and even though she'd let his leg go, there was no getting out. She gulped, she extended her neck, and she reared back - all moves to ease him into her a little bit at a time - as she continued to rub at her pussy in excitement.

The whole situation was somewhat surreal to her, as she loved being dominant with her partners and loved the idea of being so wholly in control, but she'd never gotten this kind of excited about the prospect of punishing a poacher. Despite realizing how off it seemed to get sexual arousal from this, she couldn't help the swelling and the flushing of blood to her groin, making her sensitive and wet.

As she swallowed - her gullet sucking on the kobold's face and smothering him between the horns - she also felt her pelvic muscles move, as if they were massaging something inside her. She then used her free hand to wrap up between his legs and under his tail, forcing him to glide even deeper into her esophagus, the bulge of his snout becoming more and more distended as he was tugged into her.

For the first few moments, Syrus felt as if this was all a ruse, and that he would be fine - after all, he could hold his breath for nearly half an hour if the situation called for it and he wasn't panicked - but it was quickly becoming clear that she was quite serious about this. He could feel his body sliding deeper into her, stretching out her throat with ease, but he wasn't being pulled back out; in fact, she was utilizing both gravity and her own powerful arms to stuff him into her! He still couldn't panic, though; if he dared to gasp or suck in air, he'd choke on her saliva and quickly pass out, and in his mind that would be the end of him. Had he possessed a knife or blade he could have defended himself, but he had dropped them both when he was snared.

Instead, he simply had to hold his breath and bide his time, waiting for the inevitable pull out that would bring him back to the world of the non-consumed. This never came, however, and he couldn't help but grunt and whimper inside her throat as she stuffed him one more time, this one forcing the crooks of her jaws to slide past his hips.

From there, her jaws closed up around him and her tongue caressed his belly from groin to midsection, each motion massaging him just a little bit deeper. He kicked - or at least tried to, as his thighs were now trapped between her jaws and covered in saliva - but it did nothing. If anything, the motions actually drove him deeper, as the thickest part of him had already passed the opening of her maw, and was now sliding into her with disturbing ease thanks to her copious saliva.

The point of no return had been crossed, and Tara felt the overwhelming wave of well earned accomplishment wash over her, filling her with a pleasant tingle and the throb in her loins that was usually followed by an intense orgasm. This sudden boost of self confidence and brash, sexualized power urged her to clamp her jaws shut and gulp as hard as she could, a constriction around her prey so powerful that she slurped the rest of him up in one go, his entire body lurching through her neck to be deposited in her belly.

Syrus fell into her gut, rolling around and curling as his legs and tail passed through her esophagus, eventually coming to rest on his rump with her undulating, shifting walls squeezing in from every side. There was some air inside with him, sucked in alongside his body, but he still dared not inhale it for fear of sucking back some of her fluids as well. This was just about his time to take advantage by kicking off and sliding backwards up her throat again, but at that exact same time, the air was all sucked out as she let loose a reverberating belch that he could feel through her abdominal wall.

Satisfied, she licked her lips and patted the distended bulge of her belly as her pants fell from her waist to the ground. Now naked, she found a comfortable spot leaning against the tree that he'd been hunting from as she spread her legs and started idly rubbing herself. The squirming of his form thrashing and writhing around while making clear hand and elbow prints in her abdominal wall were a constant reminder of her command over him, and the combined sensations of her gut and her fingers entwined to bring her to a gentle, extended orgasm that spurted all of her fluids out onto the grass before her.

"That'll teach you." She said with a pat of her belly, knowing full well that he couldn't hear her.

Inside, the sudden slap made him gasp, sucking back the fluids that her stomach walls secreted. The initial burst of discomfort in his chest was brisk and intense, but passed within seconds as he realized that, despite being inside her, he could still breath. Slowly, for sure, but he felt like he was able to breath without any issues by sucking up the liquid that flooded her gut.

And that was the exact second that he realized there was no escaping this for him. He was stuck inside the warden, and it appeared she was equipped to keep prey alive inside her for an extended period of time. Her threats of consumption were real, but it wasn't to be as short lived as he'd anticipated. This was a problem, as it meant he truly was in trouble and had no way of getting out of it. He'd have formulated a plan, but the longer he held her belly juices inside his lungs, the more groggy he became.

To most that would be scary, but he knew that was just part of what pacifist predators had done to their prey, the breathable fluids were meant to keep them alive but complacent. At least that was something.

Tara belched one last time as she splayed out in orgasmic delight by the tree. She had won in many ways, and her little poacher buddy wasn't going anywhere until she was good and ready to spit him back up. Her first decision was that she was definitely going to take him to the authorities to have them deal with his poaching ways, but her deeper, more carnal side was thinking that it might be fun to keep him around a bit, perhaps toy with him some more before letting him go.

Deep down inside, though, she truly believed that he didn't know what he had done wrong and was willing to change. That deepest part of her heart wanted to come to an agreement with him instead of ruining his life. This meant that when she was ready to spit him up, they had a lot to talk about.

In the mean time, she would enjoy the subtle motions of his squirming in her belly. The constant reminder of her victory was validating to her, and the pressure against her sex from within was nice, too. Yeah, maybe she'd seek negotiations with him.

All in time, but for now he was just a hunter in the wrong place.