The Salvation Army show a young arsonist the power of a woman’s pectorals before becoming their practice dummy whilst an older man is interrogated with painful sex.
SPOILER: Arthur Hawkins persuades Prunella Crook to take revenge on The Salvation Army. Malcolm sneaks into their hall to plant firebombs but is lured by the mature Christine who is working out. Her amazing pectoral muscles drive him wild with lust and she demonstrates that they are not just for show. Arthur observes the combat skills of the women of The Salvation Army before being subject to the deadly interrogation skills of Major Anne.
Part 2 of The Salvation Army story features another neighbour, Christine and the nasty Prunella. Julie and Marianne are the two women who use Malcolm as their practice dummy
The following story contains descriptions of sex and violence. If this offends you or if you are under the legal age of consent in your country do not read on. Any likeness to anyone dead or alive is purely coincidental.
(c) JIM P 2010
“Do whatever it takes. Seduce her. Bed her if you have to but get results”. The voice of Sir Anthony Jones echoed in my head. Now that I’d met her, the thought of making love to Prunella Crook made me feel physically sick. She was the most repulsive woman I’d ever have met. Standing around 5’2″ she had a slim but shapeless figure, which was always draped in the latest designer clothes. She thought these made her look like a young executive but looked appalling. She claimed she was in her early 40’s but she looked much older. Her short red hair was streaked with grey and was thinning badly. There were wrinkles and lines on her small face and her chin sagged. Big green boggle eyes stared openly making you feel very uncomfortable. Her face always looked dour as if she was sucking lemons.
However it wasn’t her looks that put me off, it was her attitude. She was extremely self-centred and very arrogant. She kept going on about ‘executive’ this and ‘executive’ that, and how she was so much better than everyone else. I’m Arthur Hawkins and I used to be a butler to the rich and powerful but this woman was nothing more than a part-time nursery teacher. I heard she wasn’t even very good and scared the children. She walked around with a superior air yet spoke with a rough Bedfordshire accent and lived in a semi-detached on a busy road in a small market town. The massive extension in which I now sat, looking at the high-vaulted ceiling and stained glass windows, was so blatantly out of place and pretentious. Prunella had taken her kids to school. They were teenagers yet she insisted on driving them the few hundred yards up the road to the state school in the Smirk-mobile, a massive black Mercedes that looked like a tall van with some windows and seats put in.
As I waited for her return I recalled Sir Anthony’s words “Stop whoever it is paying Priest to follow the slave trail at any cost”. He had hardly been in the country this last year, spending his time in Switzerland on business for ‘The Bank’. Sir Anthony was furious about a newspaper sporting the headline “Guy’s an Ugley Crook”. My brother and I laughed when Scott had claimed Jim Priest was responsible and had been working with The Salvation Army. However I had to eat humble pie when Prunella confirmed the Army’s involvement. “Priest must focus on Bristlingdown not these diversions” our Boss had said “especially one that could lead straight to us”. Then he said something strange “We must find leverage over those red-eyed harlots before it’s too late”.
Getting in with Prunella had been easy. I claimed that I was a golfing partner of Guy’s and slipped in that I had been butler for Sir Nigel Forbes-Willington. That had really impressed her. I didn’t mention that I was actually spying on him and guiding him to grease the dirty wheels of law and order for Sir Anthony’s interests. Sensing another gravy train she tried to leech onto me, but I couldn’t stand the woman. I heard her enter and say, “Right. Now we’re all alone Arthur” in a grating voice, which she thought was seductive. I told her that I had visited her husband. She had refused because “prisons are no places for executive people to be seen”. Telling Guy that his wife was seeking revenge was enough for him to reveal where he’d been attacked. It should be easy enough to encourage Prunella to organise a ‘warm welcome’ for the do-gooders who stick their noses into other people’s business.
Malcolm had snuck into the hall whilst the caretaker had turned his back whilst he locked up. He quickly found a place to hide in a tall closet in a small room that was used to store gym equipment. Settling down to listen to some music on his earphones he whiled away the time until the hall was empty. Or so he thought. Emerging from the closet he came face to face with a woman standing up curling a very large barbell. “Oh hello, I’m Christine” she said as she hefted the weight. He should have run, but the woman wore nothing but a white bra up top and it was mesmerizing watching her large breasts wobble and her large nipples jutting out. “Cat got your tongue? Young man” she said. “Malcolm, my name’s Malcolm” he replied. Since she hadn’t raised the alarm, Malcolm felt no need of urgency. Feeling like a voyeur, he took in the short black skirt below her waist, the nylon clad legs and heeled shoes. Since she stood at a slight angle away from him, he noted her toned muscular calves. The fit looking woman pumping iron appeared to be in her late 50’s compared with Malcolm’s 19. A large beakish nose overshadowed a small mouth and slender brown eyes over which she wore small spectacles. Her light brown hair streaked with highlights was cut very short exposing her ears. She stood around 5’7″ to Malcolm’s 6’4 and was slim. Her stomach was flat and tight, her shoulders well defined and her arms thick and firm. Malcolm didn’t like women with big muscles such as bodybuilders or athletes, but this was the sort of mature woman next door who liked to keep in shape and he found her body very easy on the eye. But it was her large, full moving breasts and her prominent nipples that his eyes were riveted to. The limp looking bra she wore was useless on such an endowment. Malcolm was surprised to feel his loins stir and throb as he watched a woman who was old enough to be his grandmother work out.
“Take this will you?” Christine asked offering the barbell. Taking the weight he nearly dropped it, it was much heavier than he expected. “Oh careful, it’s quite heavy” she added unnecessarily. Malcolm lowered the huge barbell awkwardly to the floor straining and trying not to look like a weakling. “What do you think of these?” Christine asked. He stood up and was stunned. “Not bad for a woman my age eh?”. Christine’s arms were raised in a double bicep pose, but Malcolm’s eyes were glued to her chest. Her breasts had swollen up like balloons into two large mounds with a sensational cleavage much higher than it was before. Strange ribbed striations at the top of her chest hinted at wonderfully developed pectorals. Most of all, Malcolm couldn’t stop gawping at her aureoles that had risen from her bra cups. Malcolm was solid and throbbing hard in an instant. “My arms are up here” the busty vision said smiling “Go on, feel them”. Tentatively Malcolm put his hand on her arms and felt the thick swellings of her solid biceps and the clear separation from the firm triceps curving underneath. He marvelled at how her slender wrists thickened to strong wide forearms. He found he liked the feel of soft female skin over hard shapely muscle and ran his palms eagerly over her arms. The biceps weren’t peaked like a bodybuilders’ but were like two large gentle hills yet solid and strong. Neither were they covered in veins, which he hated but he knew they were real biceps and much bigger than his own. He was really turned on by this fit mature woman in way that he hadn’t previously thought possible.
“Now watch” she said. Malcolm removed his hands and stood slack mouthed as one large breast rose up and down several times on its own. It stopped and then the other breast bounced slowly on its own. “Ohhh” he moaned lustfully. Christine alternately bounced one breast then the other in a motion that made Malcolm giddy with desire. Both breasts then bounced together in an erotic dance that left Malcolm moaning loudly and controlling the need to jack off. The breasts stopped bouncing and one breast kept moving outwards in a strange alluring twitching motion then this was repeated with the other breast. Two large breasts then moved outwards at the same time and stayed wide apart for several moments before returning and repeating the move. “Ohhh Christine” Malcolm moaned aching badly for her; he had never felt so turned on before. Both breasts seemed to be moving with minds of their own, almost alive as they independently swelled and contracted and gave the appearance of circular motions around her chest. “Ohhhhhh please Christine please” Malcolm begged. His erection was so hard it was painful being constrained in his trousers.
“A woman my age has to look after her boobs. I want them nice and firm not saggy like a bag of potatoes” Christine said. Malcolm wasn’t listening “Please I really want you please” he begged. He grabbed that moving chest, leant forward and began kissing her nipples, breasts then her lips passionately. Christine gently took one of his hands and moved it deep into her cleavage. “Owww my hand” Malcolm cried. His amorous advances were stopped as the nice soft warm gap between her breasts turned to fearsome crushing muscle as Christine flexed her powerful pecs. Malcolm was dancing about with his hand stuck down her striated upper cleavage. “Please oh please stop you’re crushing my fingers. Please stop, you’re breaking them” he cried with tears in his eyes. “Then apologise for forcing your attentions upon me” Christine scolded. “Please please I’m sorry please I’m sorry” he cried.
Christine’s mighty chest relaxed, freeing Malcolm’s crushed hand, which he removed and cradled massaging the life back into it. “So just what are you doing here Malcolm?” Christine asked. “Ur nothing” Malcolm mumbled with his head down. “Do you usually lurk around spying on women working out semi dressed?”. “No..” Malcolm, the words faltering as he looked up. “Or is it just these you’re spying on?” she teased, moving a single breast up and down. “nnn”. Walking to a vaulting horse, Christine beckoned “come here. Let’s arm wrestle”. Malcolm wasn’t sure about this, she definitely had bigger biceps than him and he didn’t like the thought of losing to an older woman. What if his friends found out?. “You mashed my right hand” he mumbled. “You’ve got two hands haven’t you? or are you a woose”. Malcolm went to the opposite side of the vault. As they leant forward to clasp hands, he had a good view down the front of her well-packed bra. “You bad boy” she mocked noticing his gaze. Malcolm blushed and tried to concentrate on her face. They placed elbows on top of the vault and gripped left hands. Malcolm winced; she had a very strong grip. He knew this was a foregone conclusion but he couldn’t wimp out. She smiled as he strained with all his might to move her forearm in vain for several long seconds. With a small chuckle he felt an overwhelming power press his forearm down and into the cushion of the vault top.
“Yes!” Christine cried, flexing a big bicep in victory. “Take your trousers off” she ordered, “I claim my prize”. “What? Nnn No” Malcolm replied in shock. Reaching behind her back, Christine unclasped and removed her bra allowing her large breasts to flop free. “ppppoar” Malcolm sighed. Slowly the chesty woman flexed another double biceps, her mighty pectorals pulling up her heavy bust. Malcolm’s trousers twitched at the glorious sight. “That looks uncomfortable. Take them off now” she commanded. Malcolm felt conflicting emotions, on the one hand he really lusted after this buxom goddess, but on the other it felt like coming on to your mother or granny – that was sick. The hard bodied woman’s breasts heaved, swelled, twitched and bounced in an erotic victory dance that no heterosexual man could resist. “Oh Christine” he moaned, rushing forward hands outstretched towards that magnificent chest.
“Arggggh!”. In a swift movement, Christine caught his head in her mighty arms and forced it down into a brutal headlock whilst turning her hip into his body. Instinctively raising his hands he felt a thick bicep bulge with raw feminine power unleashing agonising pain as it tried to crush his skull. “No no please” he begged. With his eyes shut tight against the brutal pressure against his skull he felt himself led crying in pain to a pile of gym mats stacked in the corner. “This is your last chance. Remove your trousers” he heard above the pain. Red-faced with shame and a sharp throbbing in his crushed skull, Malcolm unbuckled his belt, unclasped his trousers and pulled them down. “Now your pants”. “Ahh please stop” he cried, the pain was too intense, he had to obey. “Now lie on your back on the mats” she ordered. Malcolm had no choice but to comply as Christine strong-armed his head.
The mature strong woman released his aching head. “You’re no match for me little boy” Christine sneered as she knelt on the mat. He couldn’t believe that he had been so helplessly out-muscled and manhandled by a woman nearly three times his age, but somehow he found it strangely exciting. The feeling of complete dominance as the topless woman straddled his waist and hit another double biceps was so strong that he was surprised to find he had a raging hard-on for her. “Please I, I want to worship your body” he begged. Christine gave a small chuckle then slid back lowering her dangling assets around his erection. Malcolm moaned as his manhood plunged into the warm sweaty depths of her cleavage, the weight of soft feminine flesh pressing on all around. Christine lowered herself until she was lying between his legs with his hard dick pressed down along the valley of her chest bone. “Ohhh! That’s so good” he moaned as he felt her orbs twitch in synchronisation. “Oh that’s incredible” he gasped as his rod was engulfed in a torrent of moving flesh. “Oh oh wow” he knew he couldn’t last long as her amazing bust massaged his dick quickly to bursting point. “Yes yes ow” he was going to cum. “Aggggh” the moving mounds of pleasure turned rock hard trapping his leaking erection in a tight vice of pectoral muscles. “Please please please” he begged. “Why are you here Malcolm?. Tell me or I’ll crush your dick so bad you’ll never be able to use it again”. Hard jagged muscle bit in on his cock with an irresistible crushing power. “Please please it wasn’t my idea. Please let me go, it hurts so” he sobbed. “Then tell me everything or I’ll crush it to pulp”. Malcolm wept openly as he told his sorry tale to the dominant woman with the powerful big boobs.
Where was that boy?. I paced anxiously by my car parked in the market square taking another drag from my cigarette. How long does it take to hide a few firebombs then get away unseen?. I wished I had used my brother Ted and that imbecile Scott but Sir Anthony had assigned them another task. Prunella had suggested the boy; I had serious misgivings about him. I took another drag. I’ll give him 5 more minutes then I’ll have to go and find him.
“Ohhh ohhh ohhh” Malcolm moaned loudly as the mighty pectorals pumped his cock like an iron fist clad in velvet. He had never felt anything like it. “Oh Christine Oh oh Christine” he moaned. Her awesome chest seemed to be sucking him relentlessly. “nnnnn nnnnnn nnn ohhhh” he came long and hard, muscular pecs milking him dry in one seemingly never-ending orgasm. Eventually the stream dried out and Malcolm lay back with his eyes shut in exhaustion. He was in no doubt that she had completely dominated him with her chest but it had been incredible. “Clean up your mess”. Malcolm looked up to see her dangling bosom descend on his face. “Come on lick it up” she ordered but Malcolm couldn’t, it was disgusting. Her bust completely engulfed his face in warm sweaty flesh sticky with his load. He felt Christine wrap her powerful arms around the back of his head and pull him tightly into her chest. His legs were pulled apart as Christine locked her muscled calves around his and applied a grapevine press. He felt those fearsome pecs flex crushing grinding muscle against his nose and mouth squeezing them so tightly that he couldn’t breathe. “mmmm mmm mm” his face felt pinched and squeezed as powerful muscles held him fast in their tight grip. She unleased a torrent of chest twitching that left him battered and dazed, pounded by who knows how many pounds of female flesh. He panicked, his body instinctively struggled for survival but she was too strong and held him fast. In under a minute Christine sat back on the young man’s unconscious body.
Cautiously I peered through the glass panel of the door into the main hall. I spotted a frail looking old white haired woman in a Salvation Army uniform standing before a stack of stone slabs resting on a trellis. What the hell?. “Hai!” in an instant the old dear’s hand flashed down obliterating the slabs in an explosion of stone and dust. I jumped. For some strange reason, my groin twitched.
I couldn’t believe my eyes, some old dear was doing karate!. I looked again through the glass for a longer look around and was shocked at what I saw. All around the hall there were women in Salvation Army outfits practising unarmed combat and by the look of it, they weren’t amateurs. A couple of grey hairs were sparring with each other with amazing flexibility and agility launching incredible high kicks that belied their age and unashamedly exposed their nylon clad legs and crotches. Some middle-aged women in bras and gloves boxed each other. Others were punching or kicking bags or lifting weights whilst others threw each other around the hall and applied painful arm locks. The majority of the women were middle aged or older but there were a few younger women. Two young blondes on the floor nearby caught my eye. One was good looking in her twenties, the other slightly older quite attractive wearing glasses. Both were slim with sexy long legs on display as they scissored some poor guy crying out in pain. For a moment I wished I was between those lovely nylon clad legs but then the cries of pain suggested that perhaps this wouldn’t be as pleasurable as I’d like. The younger blonde’s firm strong legs were locked tight around the guy’s neck. Her geeky looking friend applied a brutal body scissors with slender muscles in her thighs bulging with strength. “Aggh!” screamed the victim. “Cadet Marianne release him at once before you break his ribs!”. I tracked the sound of the voice. A tall sexy blonde woman walked into view. “Cadet Julie. Show Marianne how to correctly apply a sleeper hold”. As the women released their prey and the younger pulled him into a sitting position in front of her, I gasped. It was Malcolm!. I watched helplessly as Julie wrapped her arms around his head in a tight sleeper.
“Consider it his community service. A few more hours being the practice dummy for those girls and he’ll think again about a life of crime” came a voice by my ear. I spun to see a petite mature uniformed redhead wearing glasses. “Major Anne and you must be Hawkins”. I went to shake her hand, but it flashed upwards jabbing straight fingers into the arteries at the side of my neck.
I came around to find myself lying naked on my back on a thin table with my hands restrained. Above my lower chest there was what looked like a handlebar supported from one side of the table. Below this on either side of the table there were attached what I could swear were stirrups. “Ah, you’re aware Mister Hawkins”. I look towards the voice and saw Major Anne approaching. I am stunned to see that she is wearing a sleeveless red PVC corset that hugged her waspish waist, a matching choker around her slender neck and black PVC gloves that stretch halfway up her upper arm. Below the waist she wore sheer black stockings and suspenders with black thigh boots and nothing more. She was bottomless!. This isn’t what I expected a member of The Sally Army to be wearing.
“Where am I?, who are you?” I ask. “I’ll ask the questions Mister Hawkins” she replied sternly. “Release me this instant” I commanded. Ignoring me, the redhead climbed onto the table and knelt astride me. She began to run her fingertips along my torso occasionally lingering in one spot. It felt tingly and not unpleasant. “The funny thing about the human body” she said concentrating on the movements of her fingers “some points can be made to induce unusual reactions. For example, great pain”. “Arghh” she pressed in somewhere on my abdomen which burst into a torrent of pain. “Tell me who you work for Mister Hawkins and I’ll make it stop”. “Crook. Prunella Crook” I gasped. The pain receded at her touch. “Other points can induce pleasure” her fingers wandered again leaving a trail of pleasurable sensations. “Mister Crook was hardly the brains of the outfit was he?” Anne said. I thought about that, she was right. “She’s cunning and devious that one. She’s used you Mister Hawkins and set you up big time”. “What’re you talking about? Oooh” her fingers were touching lightly near my pelvic region and I started to get hard.
“Did you know that she was suing the Government for the lost of executive earning?. The Criminal Protection Society seems to think she’s got a good case. She’d be set up for life” Anne lectured. “She never mentioned that” I admitted. “Ohhhh” I sighed as she gently touched another spot. “Do you really think she’d implicate herself with burning down a community hall with a bunch of women trapped inside?”. “Don’t know nothing about that” I lied. “ooh” another wave of pleasure as her fingers roamed. “Those radio igniters are hardly available to the general public. She used your name on the order”. “What?” I cried. “Even that boy thinks you gave the orders. She’s made sure all of the evidence points to you”. “The bitch!” I cried, the redhead with the magic touch was right; Prunella had stitched me up good.
“So who are you really Mister Hawkins?. There’s more to you than meets the eye” Anne spoke sternly like some sort of strict schoolmarm. I kept quiet. “Never mind. You will be begging to tell me later”. She leaned forward bringing her face to the side of my head. I felt her tongue lightly flick areas around my neck and ear. I was sporting a throbbing erection immediately. “Oh I can literally keep you up all night long” she whispered in my ear then gave a long lingering lick all along my jaw line. “Ohhhhhhh”. “Men say that’s want they want but the truth is they can’t handle a woman like me in the bedroom”. Her tongue flicked around my nipples. “nnnnn nnnn” she had me aching for her, I couldn’t believe it. “Well before this night is over you will be begging me to stop making love and tell me everything”. “Never” I gasped. I watched her place her feet in the stirrups either side of the table then raise herself. Grabbing my throbbing member with one hand, she positioned herself over it then slid down. “Ohhhhh” it felt good inside her. She began to slowly slide up and down my full length. “Ohhhhh” I moaned, this was what I called an interrogation!.
“Arrggh aargh arggg” bolts of pain struck my body. Anne, still riding my dick, struck my body with her fingers. Everywhere she struck felt like bolts of electricity coursing through my body. She alternated this with touching other points that kept me erect. “Arggg no please arrggg” it was like being tasered. Involuntarily my body bucked and heaved from the bolts of pain all over my body. Anne held onto the handlebar with one hand, inflicting pain with the other whilst sliding up and down on my moving erection. “Wee Heeeooh. Ride ’em cowboy!” she cried.
It was a long painful night for Arthur Hawkins, Anne informed me the next day. She wouldn’t give me any details but she told me that she was correct on two counts. One: he ended up telling her everything; Two: she was far too much for him to handle and he ended up crying and begging her to stop making love to him. That took me by surprise; I looked again at this serious looking mature redhead in her uniform. “I’m afraid it was too much for his heart. I couldn’t revive him” she said sadly. Then she brightened, a cheeky smile on her face. “I’m sure I can make you last much much longer. Why don’t we do it now Jim?”. I didn’t know what she’d done to this man, but I didn’t want to risk the same fate.
“So whom was he working for?” I asked quickly. “Somebody called Sir Anthony Jones” she replied “Some big shot International banker apparently”. “I’ve never heard of him” I told her. “He also admitted he spied on Forbes-Willington as his butler and that Jones is somehow linked to the whole Davidson mess”. “In which case I think I met Arthur” I said [JIMP#9]. “Jones wanted to shut us down so you can focus on Bristlingdown. Saw us as an unnecessary diversion”. Once more Anne’s openness surprised me. I had one of Anne’s superiors admit much the same thing [JIMP#14] but I thought I’d better keep quiet. “If he’s behind this slave trade then we need to check him out” Anne told me. “However there’s still that Crook bitch to deal with” she said with a ferocity that I didn’t expect “The Army is strictly against violence towards women, but in her case I’d like to make an exception”. “I’m afraid you’re too late, someone’s got to her first” I said passing a national paper to the Major.
“Ugley Crook Prune Stuffs Self” proclaimed the headlines, further down the page the article concluded “Police said that Mrs.Crook had ran backwards 6 times onto her own carving knife, slit her throat then hung herself from the chandelier in her banqueting extension. The Police are not looking for any suspects and the case is closed.”