His breath was ragged and, as he carefully ran a hand along his ribcage, the pain told him he had broken two or three of his ribs. He didn't think tha... he had punctured anything vital, but the pain from his body was so pervasive that he wasn't sure if he would be able to pinpoint a specific injury.It took him more than a day to work his way out of the tree, and, if you had asked him to recall how, he wouldn't have been able to tell. It was all a feverish, pain-filled blur. His next clear memory. Mistress Pickles’ house was, I was to discover, a salon for ladies who, like me and Mrs Pickles herself, favoured the sexual intimacy of other women. No doubt my Mistress was aware of my similar proclivities or, were she not, she soon came to be. I attended upon her with more than physical pleasure, for I felt a kind of love for the woman who had taken me from my earlier life. Her faith in me was the first such I had ever known and I rewarded her in my way with faultless loyalty. This loyalty. More

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