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. I picked up my mum's large dress making scissors and got to work on my denims. Firstly I cut off the legs then I pulled them on, there are very tight and I can only just do them up. I looked at myself in the mirror, not too bad, I look good dressed in tight shorts with my boobs bare, just like a model; now for that shirt. This was more tricky, I cut the arms off first and then some of the back, after each cut, I put it on to see how it looked. After an hour I'm reasonably satisfied with the. More

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