Chapter 1

Carla looked at her daughter sitting in the passenger seat of the BMW. Claire seemed lost in thought. She hadn't spoken since they had sopped for lunch and hour before. Carla sighed and turned her gaze back to the road.

They were traveling through No-Wheresville Kansas, empty dusty landscape as far as the eye could see. The road stretched on straight under the blue sky and hot sun. Here, they were free to think ... to keep to themselves.

Carla had lost her husband, Claire's father, two weeks before. Now a thirty-nine year old widow, she was lost. She had never had much to do with her husband's packaging company, so now she certainly wasn't needed to run the business. The never-ending parade of housekeeps and landscapers took care of the home, so she wasn't needed there either.

When her husband had been alive, Carla was the definition of a trophy wife. She accompanied her husband to all the business functions, gave sexual relief on demand, and was a constant source of support and discussion in her husbands business and social life. She new her place and the expectations of her relationship. She also knew what she got out of the relationship, so she never felt used by her husband.

In fact, she knew her husband loved her in his own way. Unlike many businessmen, he doted on her and their daughter. In many ways, Carla felt like a favored employee in her marriage. Still, she was happy with it all the same.

Claire was lost after her father's death too. Carla knew this ... could see it in her daughter's eyes. So, one morning three days ago, Carla got her daughter out of bed and they left New Jersey for a road trip to the west coast. Carla thought it would be a good chance for the two of them to blow off some steam and maybe become closer as mother and daughter.

Carla was an average looking woman. She stood around 5'5'' and weighed 115lbs (130lbs if she was being honest). Though her husband had always loved her wide hips and girly ass, she was as insecure about it as any other woman is about her body. She had 32 c breasts with long thick nipples that always seemed to attract a lot of male attention. Wavy auburn hair fell to her shoulders, framing a cute face.

Claire was19, and was a carbon copy of her mother. She stood at about the same height and had the same curvy backside. She also had the same smallish breasts and long, chunky nipples. She had her father's brown hair and blue eyes though, which gave her a more exotic look than her mother was capable of.

They had been on the back roads for a while and evening was approaching. Carla didn't want to be on the roads after dark, so when she saw the signs for Remington, Kansas ahead, she decided they would stop there for the rest of the day.

The town was small, but it seemed clean and the buildings appeared modern and well-maintained. As Carla parked the car on the main street, she noticed the people milling about. They seemed happy and normal.

Across the street, Carla saw a small group of women watch as an attractive young man changed a tire. On her side of the street, a younger couple was walking into a restaurant. The man's hand rested proprietarily on the swell of the girl's ass. Carla shivered. She already missed being touched like that.

She looked over and noticed Claire watching her with a look of curiosity. Carla smiled and said, "I'm hungry. Why don't I see if that restaurant does carry out, then we can go find a hotel,"

Claire shrugged, acting as if she didn't really care. Honestly, she wanted a few moments of privacy. She loved her mother, but some time alone never killed anyone. And ... she was craving a joint in a bad way.

Claire watched as her mother disappeared into the restaurant. When she was out of site, Claire dug her pot out of her bag and lit up. She didn't usually smoke a lot of this stuff, but the stress was getting to her lately. Besides, in a hick town like this, she thought, smoking a little pot surely wouldn't get her into trouble.

Claire had no more than taken the first drag of her joint when there was a knock on the window. She looked up to see a rather stern looking cop staring down at her. Shit! She quickly snuffed out the joint, then slowly rolled down the window.

"Is there a problem officer?" Claire asked in her sexiest fuck-me voice.

"Sheriff", the man said gruffly. "I am Sheriff Maxwell, and I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to step out of the vehicle."

Claire huffed, but got out of the car. Her huge nipples strained proudly against her tight grey t-shirt. Her curvy-feminine ass filled out her tight blue jeans. As soon as she was standing, the Sheriff turned her around and pushed her up against the car. He kicked her legs apart and began to frisk her.

She immediately noticed that his search was much more intimate than it should be when he grabbed both of her nipples and tugged them roughly. Normally, she would have taken offense and thrown a fit if a an took those liberties with her body. She was afraid of this man though. She didn't think he would hurt her, but she knew in her soul that he was capable of hurting her. She felt safe and in danger all at the same time, and the confusion kept her frozen.

His hands had traveled down to her hips now, and he was caressing her ass in soft, slow circles. Claire fought herself to keep from sighing in pleasure at the touch. She lost that battle when he slipped his hand between her legs and cupped her pussy. She shivered and sighed contentedly. Her hips gave a small involuntary thrust. The Sheriff gave a knowing grunt that infuriated Claire. She wanted to kick him in the face as he finished frisking her legs.

As Carla walked out of the restaurant, she saw her daughter leaning against their car, and a cop frisking her. "Damn", Carla thought. " I can't leave her alone for five minutes without a fucking cop being involved."

She walked out and went up to the cop as he was finishing with Claire.

"Is there a problem officer?" Carla asked politely. She took in the cop as he stood and shook her hand. He was about her age, in good shape, and very attractive. He had kind, laughing eyes. He moved in a way that led Carla to believe he was a dangerous man though.

Carla knew several guys like this in her home town growing up. She had fucked most of them before she met her husband. They all treated her well, but it was apparent they were going nowhere in their lives. That was one of the reasons she ended up in Trenton. She didn't want to spend the rest of her days as the community slut for a bunch of rough necks.

"Ma'am, I'm Sheriff Maxwell," the cop told her. "Is this your vehicle?"

"It is." Carla said matter-of-factly. "And the young woman you were fondling is my daughter." she said with a playful smile.

Sheriff Robert Maxwell couldn't help but smile back. He recognized the playfulness and this woman's easy going manner. His late wife had been similarly amusing and had easily been able to cajole anything she wanted out of him.

Carla noticed the Sheriff eyeing her appraisingly, and suddenly felt very exposed. She was wearing a black cotton skirt and a white t-shirt. Her nipples stood out obscenely as always. She never wore panties unless she was on her period, so right now there was nothing between this strange man and her love-hole save a couple of feet of hot mid-western air.

Carla shook her head slightly, wondering why she was thinking about her pussy at a time like this. She met the Sheriff's eyes and asked again what the problem was.

"I'm afraid you daughter was found smoking marijuana in you vehicle Ma'am." Maxwell said. "I'll need to frisk to too Miss..."

"Carla." Carla said. "I'm Carla Jennings and this is Claire."

Carla turned without being asked and put her hands on the roof of the car. She held her breath as the Sheriff gave her a cursory pat down. He then had both women stand back as he searched the vehicle. When he raised back up, he had what looked like a small zip-loc bag half full of drugs.

"This is very serious ladies." he said. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to place you both under arrest. Please get in your vehicle and follow me."

Carla and Claire got in their car and followed the Sheriff to the complex that housed both the Sheriff's department and the courthouse.

"I don't understand why I got finger fucked and he just patted you down like you were a old friend." Claire muttered obstinately.

"Well, you were the one smoking weed." Carla replied sarcastically. "Besides," she said as she reached over and pinched her daughter's left nipple, "these could be considered dangerous weapons."

Claire giggled and leaned over and hugged her mother. "I'm sorry mom." she said.

"It's ok baby." Carla said. "We'll deal with this as it comes. You didn't have a lot of stuff, so hopefully we'll be able to just pay a fine or something and get out of here."

"I'm afraid you'll have to spend the evening here." Sheriff Maxwell said as he led them into a small, white concrete cell. " The judge has already left for the day. You'll be sentenced tomorrow morning. The penalties for drug use here are very severe. For your first offense, you will each be given one hundred lashes I expect."

"Excuse me, what do you mean by lashes?" Carla asked indignantly.

"In this town, women are punished by means of public whipping." Sheriff Maxwell said. "Women are flogged for their crimes, and for the crimes of their closes male relatives. While this might seem unfair, you'd be surprised how much better men behave when a women they love will suffer for their wrong doing."

"You can't do this. We have rights." Carla started arguing angrily.

"Shut up bitch." Maxwell sneered. "The laws are the laws and you broke them. You will both pay for that. I'm afraid the whipping is legal and it works as you will soon see. Now, good night ladies".

As soon as Maxwell was gone, Claire started to cry. Carla was shocked. She sat next to her daughter on the single bed in the cell. The white concrete block walls where freshly painted and the room seemed very clean for a jail cell. Carla hugged her daughter and held her until they both fell asleep.

Carla and Claire were exhasted. They had slept fitfully all night, and were awoken at 7am to get ready for court at 8. After being allowed to bathe and change clothes, they were led to a courtroom. Thought it wasn't large, it was clean and modern like the rest of the town.

The walls were a dark cream color. The tables were made of polished glass. The only wood to be found was the judges huge walnut desk. The judge, a small silver-haired man, sat at the desk at the head of the room. Two glass tables, one for the defendants and one for the prosecution, sat beside each other in front of the judge. The arrangement gave the room and informal, yet respectable feel.

During the case, Sheriff Maxwell presented his side to the judge. Several times, Carla caught the man looking at her with a look of hunger and familiarity that disturbed her a bit. When he was done, the judge asked Carla and Claire if they had anything they'd like to say. They both declined. The judge immediately handed down the sentence.