Episode Twenty-Five Thinning the Herd

N adira

I try to ignore the burgeoning line of people waiting for an interview. People? It's more like a menagerie. All of those males aren't really what I'm thinking about, though. I'm thinking about Dhar.

Have I really stooped so low as to agree to mate that animal? The huge, green asshole whose top priority was whether his cock would fit in my hole? Holes , I correct myself with a shudder. He's willing to order 552 men to their possible death just so he can get his cock wet? Gross.

Grosser still? I agreed.

Azael is waiting right here, wanting to talk with me. I'm sure he's going to ask if I've lost my mind and, to be honest, I'm not sure if I can answer no to that question.

My mind casts back to my childhood of being paraded around my father's old cronies as bait because he wanted them to thirst for me so they would bid on me when I reached marriageable age. Then I think about the senator who never bothered to hide his disdain even as he used me.

This orc agreed to respect me. If he doesn't, at least I'll have the power to cut him off. That's something I've never had before.

And if I pull this off, no other female in Tower One will ever have to be beholden to any male as long as they live. Letting this jerk fuck me is a small price to pay to free all the women in the Tower.

If we succeed, the Punishment Tower will be next. Then who knows, maybe another tower. Or maybe news of our victory will spread and the other towers will stage their own revolts.

First things first, though. I need a third mate.

The line is endless, and the day drags on. I've gotten much better at cutting these interviews short the moment it's obvious they bring nothing to the table. Too small—nope. Not enough followers—goodbye. Just too gross to imagine sharing our hut with—next!

It seems that for every male who sits down on the stump across from us, two more spring up at the end of the line.

Dhar returns, picks up his stump, and moves it to our side of the table. Right next to me. I try to stifle my shudder but don't succeed.

"I'm going to go up and down the line. Thin it out," he says. "I don't want to spend another night here and you're taking all day. What are you looking for? I'll tell everyone who doesn't meet your criteria to go away."

He makes a fist, which is big as a dinner plate, to illustrate how he'll inform everyone to leave the line.

"We're not leaving without a third male, Dhar, so don't jettison everyone. They need to agree to fight to take Tower One, and they need to be able to muster enough followers to bring something to our army." I stop, then add, "And I just can't deal with scorpions, insects, or reptilians."

"Got it."

He ambles to the line and immediately begins strong-arming the males one at a time. I'm interviewing a male who must have mutated from some type of rodent. His oversized teeth keep chittering against his lower lip. Even as we're talking, my eyes are on Dhar who is rejecting at least four out of every five suitors.

I have to give him credit. He seems to have my criteria down pat. I know his only impetus is getting us back to our hut tonight so he can make sure his cock "fits," but at least he's a male who knows how to get things done.