The Humiliation of Naomi Sanderson-Hughes

 

Chapter 1

 

Naomi Sanderson Hughes's heart lurched a little and her stomach tensed as the shrieking alarm went off not far from her head. Without really thinking she swung her legs over the side of her tiny, narrow uncomfortable bed and winced slightly as her bare feet came into contact with the ice-cold floor. It was winter now at Hardwicke House and the cold, grim weather just made the terrible place feel even worse.

Naomi could feel her teeth chattering involuntarily as she stood at attention by the side of her bed. All around her women were either stood rigidly like she was "the arse in tits out" position as the staff liked to describe it, or slowly dragging themselves out of their beds. Naomi felt a sudden pang of sorrow for them. It wasn't too long ago when she was a new girl herself and the shock of having to get out of bed at 5.45am was very real. Some of those having difficulty were probably free women a few days ago, but how their lives had changed!

From her bed by the door, Naomi could hear the clatter of high-heeled boots as the warders approached the dormitory. Sub-consciously she stood that little bit more erect and tried to stop shivering quite so much. From the corner of her eye she could see that a couple of the new girls weren't going to make it in time and sure enough the bolt on the metal door to the dormitory was drawn back and the door flung open with a resounding crash.

"Attention girls!" Demanded a harsh Scottish voice.

Naomi felt herself tense even more. The voice belonged to Miss Urquhart, one of the most feared of all the warders at Hardwicke House. Being particularly feared at a place like Hardwicke was quite an achievement in itself. It was staffed by a collection of violent aggressive lesbian bitches that actually enjoyed inflicting pain on their clients. But Miss Urquhart's reputation was well known, even in here. With hardly a pause she marched over to where the two women who had been the last to attention were stood, unhitching her leather strap from her belt as she did so.

"You two!" She bellowed. "Get yourselves over the ends of your beds, arses well up!"

The two panic-stricken young women looked around wildly, hoping against hope perhaps that the black Scottish woman was shrieking at some other two miscreants, but it was not to be. One of the two, a young dark-haired girl was already crying as she laid herself over the end of her bed with the metal end of it digging into her slim stomach. The second, an older taller woman followed suit. Naomi could see that she looked more determined, more resolute.

Miss Urquhart hardly paused; she drew her arm back and slashed the stiff leather across the blonde's woman large, naked backside. The woman screamed at the shock of the immense amount of pain a skillfully wielded strap could produce. Naomi winced in sympathy. She knew very well indeed from her own personal experience just how much the straps at Hardwicke Hall hurt. Even the relatively lightweight straps the warders carried around with them stung and burnt horribly.

 

Miss Urquhart turned her attention to the younger of the two, taking three determined strides towards her next victim before unleashing a very firm stroke which cracked loudly and echoed around the room. Inevitably the young girl shrieked in pain and howled for mercy but by then Miss Urquhart had returned to her original victim. Up went the strap and then it swished downwards with a particularly evil hiss before exploding over its target.

The blonde howled again and for one dreadful minute Naomi thought she was going to let go of the bed and stand up, or worse still rub her scalded buttocks. That would have been classed as willful disobedience and would probably have resulted in a trip to Miss Lakhani's office. And nobody wanted that. Naomi wouldn't have wished a trip to Miss Lakahni's office on anyone...well, almost anyone.

The dark-haired girl received two more strokes and the blonde one more. And despite the fact that they were delivered with the full force of Miss Urquhart's right arm, the Scottish woman didn't believe in leniency even for relatively new girls, both women managed not to move too much and to avoid rubbing their smouldering backsides. They were then made to stand at attention while Miss Urquhart and her two junior colleagues carried out a rapid inspection of the shivering women.

"Dress!"

Immediately, all twenty women sprung to open the doors of their small cupboards and selected their PE kits, black plimsolls, white ankle socks, tight white knickers, a tiny green gym skirt and a tight, yellow nylon blouse. For a few seconds there was chaos as young and not so young women wrestled themselves into their gym clothes just as quickly as they possibly could. Naomi had realised a long time ago that, apart for the gym shoes, all the kit came in only one size and it only fitted a minority of women. All the others were too big or too small.

Some of the plumper women looked quite ridiculous while some of the smaller ones had to hold up their shorts when they ran. Naomi herself was 34 years old and was in reasonable condition. She had to take care of herself as she was in the public eye so much. Well, she used to be in the public eye a lot anyway. She had quite plump breasts and a fairly prominent backside which she used to wiggle and flaunt in order to help get her own way.

She used to think of them as her assets, but in the political prison that was Hardwicke House they had they unfortunate effect of drawing unwanted attention to her. It was bad enough that she was a very well known anti government politician. Her views were unapologetically right wing. She was anti immigration and anti-Muslim for example. She had even been described as a racist but her views would have been mainstream 10 years ago.

"Out!" Shrieked one of the warders and as a group the 20 women bustled to the door and down the grey corridor that led to a side door. Waiting for them were two male PE instructors warm in their winter jackets, trousers and boots. More ominously however they each carried one of the horrible, lithe canes in their hand, and as the woman from her dormitory exited in single file some received a stinging cut to their short, green skirts.

 

The swat at their backsides was unfortunately just a warm up as far as the instructors were concerned. The women were herded out into the cold early-morning air and made to run. As one of the more experienced girls, Naomi was out near the front. There were two reasons, first she knew the way, and second any woman who fell behind the two trainers bringing up the rear would be subjected to a hail of stinging cane strokes until she increased her pace to their liking.

The crisp, clear morning was beautiful but it made the going slippery and more difficult. Naomi liked to use the treadmill in the luxurious gymnasium where she used to work as an MP. There she had appropriate clothing and very expensive footwear, paid for by the taxpayer obviously, and when she got tired she could simply step off the machine and stroll around to regain her breath and make a few essential early morning phone calls.

Instead of which she slipped and stumbled along with the rest. Her cheap, rubber shoes gave no grip or support, her tight knickers and her white blouse buttoned at the neck rubbed her horribly. The ground at this particular point started to climb quite noticeably, Naomi could feel her lungs protesting at the effort and the cold air. Behind her though she could hear the swish and crack as less fortunate, less athletic women were having their bottoms caned through their thin, brief skirts.

That was more than enough incentive for her and the more experienced women to push on. They knew from bitter experience that as the terrain grew more difficult the fitter, stronger male trainers would inevitably close on them. Panting and gasping for air, Naomi crested the top of the hill in the first group. Feeling quite good she ran down the hill. However she had misjudged her own strength and the terrain at the bottom of the hill.

The sun had melted the ice at the bottom where yesterday's rain had gathered. Before she quite realised what had happened her tired limbs seem to lose traction and she slipped and lost her balance. Desperately struggling to stay on her feet she stumbled and fell face first into the glutinous mud that had accumulated in the melted earth. It was wet and cold, shockingly cold. Naomi floundered for a second as she tried to extricate herself.

Nobody stopped to help her of course. The rest of the women avoided her as best they could and carried on running, each of them desperate to stay in front of the two instructors and their wicked, painful canes. Naomi hauled herself to her knees and then her feet. Close behind she could hear the gasps of her less fir colleagues which could only mean that the instructors were right behind them.

Naomi started to run but her shoes were full of ice cold water and she merely squelched along. She was soaked to the skin and freezing cold but the worst thing was the sound of the instructor's unstressed voice in her ear. Clear the run wasn't affecting his breathing in the slightest.

"Hurry up you lazy fat bitch," he ordered.

Swiiiit!

"Owwwwow!"

Naomi squealed as the cane landed across the full meat of her plump backside.