Go to the hall.

Your bare breasts sway unsettlingly as you pad barefoot into the shabby, narrow hallway that leads to two small doors, one to the west and one to the right. Your eyes are drawn to a framed photograph hanging on the north wall.

A strange photograph for what's clearly a servant's part of the house. Then again, it'd be strange to hang this up anywhere. A young woman's naked torso, cropped at the neck and thighs, bent forward slightly, her skin covered in a sheen of sweat. Angry red welts crisscross her lovely breasts. Around her neck is a choker necklace with a green emerald set in it.

You recognize the body as Josephine's. Or rather, yours. You imagine those welts across your new, sensitive breasts, and flinch involuntarily.