When the word went around that soon they would be bringing out a mother and daughter, the spectators began drifting back toward the barn. By the time the big door creaked open an air of excited anticipation had spread among the onlookers. In a moment it was clear that the whispered account was exactly right. The tallest of the handlers strode purposefully through the open door, past the spectators, holding two ropes, the two naked women following him forced to scurry along in his wake. Like all the others, their hands were bound behind their backs, the lead ropes tight around their pretty necks.

The pair did look enough alike to show that they were obviously related. If you hadn’t known that they were mother and daughter, you might have taken them for sisters. But to the eye of a careful observer, the older one was actually a few years older than she looked, while the younger one was many years younger than she looked. The handler stopped between two corrals, waiting for someone to take one of them off his hands. When that was done, he led the mother off to the left while his partner took the daughter to the right.

Susanna, the daughter, was an eighteen-year-old college freshman, about an inch shorter than her mother. The girl had a round face and long, thick, dark brown hair that fell below her shoulders. Her breasts were big, puffy balloons with small pink nipples.

Gloria, Susanna’s mother, wore her auburn hair clipped short. Her long neck set off her breasts admirably. The mother was taller than her daughter; most of the added height seemed to be in her legs. A tall, elegant woman with long, slim legs leading up to very well shaped hips, and a slim waist. Though her breasts were no longer as perky they once had surely been, as was to be expected in a woman her age, their large nipples insured that they were still quite pleasing to look at and touch. An elegant, expensive pair.

Both the mother and daughter were shown to their respective drivers who nodded in approval and two men began to hook up their halters. Gloria closed her eyes against the dread of what was happening to them both and drifted back to the time when it all began.

Gloria was sitting bolt upright, her back straight, fingers laced together in her lap, knees pressed together, her feet set firmly on the floor. Carefully and expensively dressed, she had been careful to present herself at her best. Grey, she had decided, in which she would look prim, proper and, most importantly, completely honest.

“Now, Mrs. Morrison,” he looked up from his note pad, “would you tell me once again what happened on March twenty-seventh?”

Even working as diligently to control her nervousness, Gloria Morrison felt her fingers shaking in her lap. She hoped that the detective wouldn’t notice, or that if he did, he would put it down to ordinary concern about being questioned by a policeman. A mass of distinct details flooded back into her mind. She was fast asleep when the call came. Her daughter’s voice, screaming, panicky. The car ride, first to get her daughter and returning home and the story they put together.

“We have been over this several times already.” She looked straight ahead, never glancing toward the detective. “I came home from work, found my daughter in her bedroom. We talked for a few minutes. She asked if she could use my car. What was wrong with her own car, I asked. She replied that she had lent it to a friend who hadn’t yet returned it. I lent her my car, thinking nothing more about the matter. That’s all.”

He cleared his throat. In the following silence, Gloria Morrison felt herself begin to shake all over. Her lip quivered as she tried to control her nervousness. The detective sighed deeply. “Unfortunately, none of that is true. On March twenty-seventh, your daughter was drinking heavily. I have testimony from two bartenders. On her way from one club to another, she hit a forty-four year old man and killed him. She called you on her cell phone. I have the phone records. You picked her up at the crash scene and drove away with her. I have a videotape of you at the scene of the accident. Witnesses recognized the driver of the convertible that hit them, witnesses noted your license plate number, who saw you drive away with your daughter.”

There was a long uncomfortable silence. “Vehicular Homicide carries a mandatory sentence of fifteen to thirty years in jail. Leaving the scene of the accident will add five years to her sentence. That’s what your daughter faces. As for you, accessory to such a murder and abetting her escape will cost you a sentence of seven to twelve years.”

She shook her head in disbelief, attempting to reject what she had just heard. “If that’s what you think,” she was struggling desperately to keep herself under control, “ perhaps you should speak to our attorney. I will call him.” But she didn’t have the strength to stand. Her knees would surely buckle, she thought.

“Listen, Mrs. Morrison. If you make a full confession right now, this minute and every detail of your confession is corroborated by your daughter, I guarantee that neither of you will have any jail time.” The detective put a hand on her shoulder. “I absolutely guarantee that neither of you will have to go to court nor will you go to jail.”

What was he saying? In return for a toss in the hay, he would just forget about the crime? Was that it? They looked at each other for a long while. Well, she was willing to do it. She would give this man her body once or twice, in return for her daughter’s freedom. Gloria lowered her eyes before looking up at him and nodding her agreement.

He took a tape recorder from his briefcase. “Soon I will start recording. I’ll make a few preliminary remarks. You read this sheet and describe, in your own words, everything you did and everything your daughter Susanna did. If you do all that, no trial, no jail for either of you. Move your chair closer to the table,” he ordered. She obeyed.

He pressed the button on the black box, said his name, stated the date, time and place of the interview, that she was entitled to remain silent and have an attorney to represent her. Finally he announced that the interview was in connection with the death a Mr. Elias of such and such an address, at such and such intersection. Pushing a typed sheet of paper in front of her, he nodded.

She read the words giving up her right to an attorney, stating that the account she was about to give was entirely voluntary and not in any way coerced. She was surprised to find how much of a relief it was to rehearse truthfully all the details of that horrible evening. Susanna had never been an easy child but after her father’s death, the girl became impossible. Gloria bought Susanna the little convertible in order to affect some control over the girl. She could, Gloria thought, threaten to make Susanna give up the car if she misbehaved.

Then came the crying, terrified phone call. Gloria rushing to the scene as quickly as she could. Without further thought the women sped away, making up the story about lending the car to someone as they drove home. That’s really all there was to it.

“I’ll be back soon,” he said. “You remain just as you are.”

Once he played the mother’s tape, the daughter caved immediately. Originally he thought the kid would break before the mother but it hadn’t turned out that way. The daughter had remained tough and resistant throughout the whole investigation. Now he had them both on tape, both repeating essentially identical stories. Of course, had there really been phone logs, or a videotape, or witnesses he never would have needed the confessions. But he had none of those things. Fortunately for him the Department was short staffed and he was working the case alone. At last he was in a position to mete out a suitable punishment.

“What’s going to happen to me?”

“It depends,” he said. “It all depends on you and your mom. A crime like yours is good for fifteen to thirty years. Your mom being an accessory will only get seven to twelve.” The girl was terrified. That was just what he wanted. “You stay here. I’m going back to talk to your mother. We’ll see what we can work out.” With the whole package about to wrap up, the detective rushed back to the mother.

“Okay, Gloria. You don’t mind if I call you Gloria now?” He continued without waiting for an answer. “Both of you have confessed. It’ll all hold up in court. Terrible waste, the two of you wasting away like that. You know what happens to women in those prisons. You and her will be raped not only by the male guards and the females but also by the dykes who mostly run those places. Awful,” he intoned, “just awful.” He waited, letting the shock settle in. They sat across from each other for several minutes, each one considering, before he began speaking again. “But there is an alternative. Your daughter gets to stay in college, you get to stay in this big house and even to retain the income from your husband’s estate.” He had done his homework. “You can even keep your Salvadorian maid, and your job at the Museum.”

She looked at him, thoroughly confused. “Me and my boy need a woman’s,” he paused looking for the word, “a woman’s presence. Women who can be counted on to respond to every wish, demand and need. Absolute and complete obedience. We don’t need somebody full time just, say, from Friday evening until Sunday evening. It will be for a year. For one year, you show up at seven AM on Saturday, you get to leave between seven and nine Sunday night. Between those times you’re property. Sure as hell beats a long time in prison, doing the same thing and never getting time off in between.”

He was gratified to see that she was considering his offer. That was good. She looked up. “What about Susanna? She asked. “What happens to my daughter?

“She’s in for exactly the same thing. That’s the deal. It’s the combo, mother and daughter that I want. Both of you.”

“You can have me under those terms but not her,” Gloria was adamant. “Not my daughter.”

He made no reply.

“And how do I know that it will only be for one year?

“Perfectly fair question,” he replied amicably. “Perfectly fair. We’ll put these two tapes and my notes in a safe deposit box in your name. The key gets deposited somewhere you choose. To be delivered to you next year at this time. Fair enough?”

“What about the video tapes and the phone logs and the witnesses depositions?”

“Oh,” he said with a shake of his head. “They never existed. Standard procedure to make up some stuff when you’re trying to get a suspect to confess.” His blue eyes crinkled with pleasure as he watched her digest and deal with the information he had just given her. Her expression gradually changed from surprise, to shock and eventually to outrage at having been so badly fooled. Before she had a chance to say anything he continued. “I’ll meet you Friday at the First National Bank.” He rose, putting all his papers in his briefcase. He handed her a card with an address. “And after that I’ll see you at this address on Friday. Shall we say seven? You can tell your maid that you’ll be away for the entire weekend.”

By mutual, unspoken agreement, Gloria and Susanna never spoke about their weekends. In fact, as the weeks went on, they spoke less and less. Gloria found reasons to stay late at the museum. When she wasn’t at school, Susanna usually remained in her room studying, or listening to music. They probably didn’t consciously avoid each other. But it was a way of not thinking about that other part of their lives, the part that always loomed. Mother and daughter held hands as the cab drove them across the city. Gloria and Susanna waited at the door, each holding her small case. There wasn’t much inside, make-up, perfume, hairbrush, and high heeled shoes. After ringing the doorbell, Susanna moaned, “Oh, God, Mama. I can’t stand it.”

Weekend after weekend they presented themselves to be used by the detective and his son. Last week had been particularly awful. He was sitting slumped at the side of the bed. “Long day, lots to do.” Susanna remained crouching on the floor, her eyes cast down, looking resolutely at the floor. “Shoes,” he said, and twisting her body, she moved her hands to the tops of his shoes. “Not easy,” he said looking down at her. Maybe you better try taking them off just with your mouth.” Grabbing the nib of a shoelace between her teeth, Susanna pulled and pulled. After a struggle, the knot came undone. “Good girl,” he said brightly. “Now the other one.” When she had unfastened that lace, he helped by removing the shoes and his socks. Taking hold of her round breasts, he lifted Susanna to her knees. “Nice,” he told her, “like fresh, ripe, grapefruits.” He loosened his belt. As she had done so well with the shoelaces, he suggested that she might also open his fly and take off his pants without using her hands. At last she managed it. “Crawl up here next to me,” he ordered as he removed his shirt and rested on his back. He massaged between her legs for a short time and then had her straddle him in order to slowly lower herself on to his rock hard member. That’s good,” he cried out, as she obeyed. “You’re a bright young thing,” he said, holding her in place.

When he was finished, he turned on to his side. Susanna lay next to him awake and alert while he slept. He slept deeply and for a long time. He woke, went to the toilet, peed and when he returned to the bed he took the girl by her hair. Turning on to his side, he pulled her head between his legs. She held him between her lips, inside her warm mouth. Enclosing her head between his thighs, he slowly rocked his hips, feeling the gentle stimulus of her tongue and cheeks. He could feel her firm breasts pressed against his thighs, the front of her naked body pressed tight against his back. When he looked down, only her face and hair were visible. After awhile his movements became quicker and quicker and , with a groan, he lay completely still. He fell asleep like that, her shoulders still pressed against the insides of his thighs, her face still between his legs. Afraid to disturb him, she kept holding his now softened member between her lips.

Her mother might have been pleased even with that little bit of respite. Todd seemed determined to use her to the point of exhaustion. Gloria was barely allowed even a moment’s rest. The sexual stamina of a teenage boy can be astounding. For much of the night there was hardly a moment when there wasn’t something being jammed either between her legs, in her rear or in her mouth.

The next morning there had been a terrible row between father and son. Gloria and Susanna cowered in fear. Now it was clear what they had been fighting about. Todd wanted to drive Gloria at the pony races. His father had absolutely refused. They needed the income from renting them out. Todd should be grateful for all the pleasure they had already given him. Because he was a cop, Tom received two thirds of the rental fees, everybody else got only half. They finished Gloria, giving her number 10. Moments later her grunts and groans convinced them that the bit was too tight. Gloria had a small mouth and the shaft was pulling hard against her cheeks. It took a few moments to adjust it and she was driven from the corral. Across the way Susanna was just having her reins attached on either side of her head. Gloria moaned sadly at the sight of her daughter in that state. When her helmet was fixed in place Susanna set out after her mother, trying to find some comfort by shifting the metal shaft with her tongue. Gloria hardly noticed the reins or the cart being hooked up, so focused was she on Susanna, a few feet away, who was having the same things done to her. Gloria’s eyes narrowed with fury when Susanna was actually harnessed to the cart and her rider climbed on board the cart and pulled the girl’s reins hard to the left. She took a few steps toward her daughter although there was nothing she could do to help. A snap of the whip across her waist, just above her hips drew Gloria’s attention back to her own situation. Several quick tugs on her reins urged into motion.

By long standing tradition, the smallest of the girls was put at Number 1. That was the younger of the two sisters. Obviously the older sister was next to her at Number 2. The handlers had decked out the two sisters early. It seemed like a good idea to get the dykes and their ponies started first. The biggest, the tall librarian, who they all knew by now, was given number 12. The rest weren’t arranged by height, but by some arcane decision- making principles that no one understood. There was immediate agreement that they would do up the two women drivers and the kid with the curly haired woman, number 11, before the other volunteers. The kid was so uptight that he was making everybody nervous and they decided to get her ready early and get him out of there. When they had finished all the rentals it was time to rig up the volunteers.