Balthazar's hands drift down to her waist, unknotting the sash of her silken robe and letting it fall open.<br/><br/>He reaches back to those wonderious breasts, pushing the last bit of cover from them and taking them into his hands.  He squeezes and kneeds the soft flesh as he savors the sensations, the softness of her skin, the sight of her beauty, the fear in her eyes.<br/><br/>"Has anyone ever struck your perfect skin my daughter?" he asks softly.