The posture of slavery. The posture of submission. Standing over her, looking down, Quentin fondled Julia’s breasts. They were very good breasts. Fu...l yet firm. The nipples were quite large and he felt them harden a little under his touch. That amused him.“Glad your Master is back, slave?” he asked.“Yes, Master,” replied Julia huskily. She had been weeping a lot in Quentin’s absence. Praying, too. Praying that he would decide to take her with him when he went.“I wonder,” grinned Quentin. I probably have for a while now, but was too afraid to admit it to myself, let alone tell you.”Then she frowned. How could she tell him that she’d reached immortality in her training as a sorceress hundreds of years ago? He’d think her mad or perhaps be disgusted by the fact that he’d bedded an old hag, too old to likely conceive a child.“Liam, what if we can’t have children?” she asked, worried that this would cause him to turn away.Her fears were quelled when he said, “That hardly matters,. More

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