‘Metallica Kirk’ tried to keep his hand from shaking as he carefully lifted the glass vial from the packing foam that had been concealed within a consignment of Bollywood DVDs brought in through Heathrow. That wasn’t his real name but the nickname that he insisted he was known within the Brotherhood. Who the feck listened to The Beatles nowadays anyway? Apart from dusty wild-eyed crazy men in the desert. Kirk stood six foot 2 with a wiry lanky build. Following the Hadith, the sayings of the prophet, he kept his moustache trimmed and did not cut his beard. A chequered red/white ghutra (head scarf) covered his head held in place by a black rope band. Born and raised in England by parents of Pakistani origins, he grew up in Luton in an area which was predominately Muslim. Whether that gave him the loathing and hatred of others who did not share his faith, only he could answer. Spending 2 years in an Al-Qaeda training camp courtesy of the British taxpayer through a grant for ethnic minorities - yes, they were that stupid, he joined the organisation that even Bin-Laden found too extreme. He spent time fighting the cause in Syria and Iraq before returning to the UK. The black flag hung proudly in his bedroom, one day soon that very flag would fly above Buckingham Palace he thought.

The sweat collected on his brow as he gently raised the vial when the door burst open. It was his best mate, ‘Metallica Lars’. “Jeez Man! You almost gave me a fecking heart attack. I thought you woz MI5 or something! I nearly dropped the bloody bottle man. The whole of bloody Luton would have been infected with the blooming Bubonic plague within 24 hours” he shouted angrily “ain’t yer heard of knocking?”. Lars ignored his outburst. He looked puffed out as if he’d been running. “Kirk! Come quick there’s a bunch of Christian cunts about to march down our road”. Kirk rolled his eyes in frustration. “Lars. Just tell those fat old Gospel singing black bitches to eff off and flash yer knife at them. That usually scares them off”. Kirk hated the Afro-Caribbean community with a passion. The two neighbourhoods had not co-existed easily for as long as he could remember and the black gansta kids were always trying to claim his patch as their own. “No, no. It’s not them. It’s the Salvation Army”. Kirk let out a loud snort of derision. “You gone soft or something? That’s what living in this country does to you. I’m sure you can scare off a few little old ladies on their way to church. Now clear off, they are about to show ‘Don’t Lose Your Head’ on the cable”

“Don’t Lose Your Head” was Metallica Kirk’s favourite show and he was glad that they could now get it on cable in Britain. The British authorities had tried to ban it, but the EU overruled them declaring it a racist act and an infringement of the human rights of ethnic minorities to be able to watch programs relating to their beliefs. Kirk liked that judgement, the Brotherhood’s primary belief was that non-believers should be killed. Of course being British they obeyed the rules and was the only place in Europe where it was broadcast. One day, Kirk, mused, I will put on the British version of ‘Don’t Lose Your Head’ and it will be on a scale never before imaginable. The show was a hilarious competitive games show similar to the old “It’s a Knockout”/ “Jeux Sans FrontiSres” except that the stakes were much higher. Run by the Brotherhood, non-believers and traitors to the cause were forced to compete in silly games. It was an elimination show where at the end of each round, the losers would lose their heads, literally. The winner then either converts to the cause or well you get the idea. Kirk loved the show and would laugh so hard that it hurt with tears rolling down his cheeks. He would much rather watch this than blooming X-Factor and all those crap talent shows exported from the great Satan America. “No, No. You don’t understand” implored him. “There really is a whole bloody army of them. Lined up across the road ready to march right down here”.

** Jim **

I expected a warmer welcome than this after returning from enforced captivity for several months. My wife just complained about me running off leaving her struggling. If it was so dangerous and unreliable an income perhaps I should think more about my family and find another job. Maybe she was right, the last few months I had feared for my life. This whole investigation that started so long ago with the break-ins at Bristlingdown Manor had seemed to run it’s course. My main benefactor Sir Humphrey Smthye-Jones certainly thought so now that I had found his family’s Victorian cache of diaries and artefacts, which meant no more regular income from him. I warned him to keep the decoding device safe as there were those who thought it was something more.

Getting a job back in the IT industry would be hard in a sector where you are considered over the hill at 35. To make matters worse, Suzanne mentioned how she wouldn’t have survived if it hadn’t been for the generous financial help from the Salvation army, although she didn’t like to take it. I didn’t like the idea either and told her that I would pay the money back as soon as I was able.

Name: Marianne

Age: 40-something

Occupation: housewife, mother and part-time mobile food van assistant

Favourite fighting technique: I love teasing a man with my legs, turning him on after he would hardly spare me a glance otherwise then kicking him near-senseless before scissoring him right out. The feel of a man being squeezed helpless between the very legs that turned him on before I finally knock him out cold makes me cum so hard that I squirt.

At least there was someone who cared. When I got to my office, I found to my surprise that somebody had tidied up. I hadn’t been in there long when there was a knock on the door. Standing in the doorway was my sister in-law Marianne. Not only was she a welcome and pleasant surprise, to be honest I fancied her quite a bit, but she was also wearing her Salvation Army uniform. “PHROAR! Marianne. I love a woman in uniform” I told her as I crossed the room to greet her. Standing 5 foot 9, the black jacket hung down over her slender figure bearing a silver S high on each lapel. Pinched at the waist and stretching over her 36inch bust it emphasised her femininity. The jacket was buttoned to the neck over a crisp white blouse which featured at the neck a metal brooch. On her head was a black hat with the army’s red shield. The jacket hung just over her hips below which a black skirt fell to her knees. Her long lower legs were clad in sheer black nylon which made them look exceptionally sexy and on her feet were heeled black shoes.

I greeted her warmly, genuinely pleased to see her “Oh Marianne, it’s so good to see a friendly face”. Short sandy-blonde hair peaked out from beneath the cap and fell over her ears and down the sides of her long slim neck to the tops of her shoulders. Small grey-blue irises in long narrow eyes stared out at me, the pupils wide with genuine interest, from behind blue spectacles with long rectangular lenses. The way they just watched me with hawk-like intensity, magnified by the lenses of her glasses, seemed to burrow into my soul and stir my loins. Her face is quite small and long with wide flat plains of her cheeks running down to a rather squarish jaw and prominent chin. A long broad nose leads from between her eyes and ends with narrow nostrils. The area between her nose and her upper lip, containing the philtrum, the indented channel with two vertical lines, is quite large with deep crease-lines following the edge of her cheeks. Her mouth is delightfully small with perfectly shaped thin lips with that classic curved groove between two hills shape to her upper lip that I always found to be very kissable. Most men would never give my Sister in-law a second glance dismissing her as rather gawky, but I found her to be very appealing in her own way with an attraction that only got stronger each time I saw her.

Marianne put her arms around me, pressed her body against mine and gently touched the side of her face against mine in a warm-felt hug which I responded in kind. The feel of her slender body in my arms as I tenderly held her felt good. “It’s so good to see you back in one piece” she said. It felt so good holding her slight frame in my arms as my hands gently stroked her back. I knew that it was wrong to get excited by a friendly hug from my sister in-law, but the sensation of her slender feminine body dressed in a uniform pressing against my body with my arms around her was getting to me. “I missed you Marianne” I sighed, feeling the back of her jacket with the side of my face pressed against hers. I remember hearing something about you should only hold a hug with friends or family for a few seconds after which it becomes intrusive. Maybe I hugged her for too long. Marianne’s head pulled back and faced me. “Oh Marianne!” I moaned as I looked into her eyes then at that small kissable mouth. With rising tension in my loins, I moved my lips forward to kiss hers.

With my arms around her waist holding her close I felt her thigh move. BAM! “Ouch!” I yelped as her heel slammed down unexpectedly upon the top of my foot. I stepped back letting go of her in surprise, more concerned with the burning throbbing pain in my foot. Marianne moved like grease lightning. “Hai!” her elbow swung up in an instant and caught me on the side of my jaw. BAM! “argh!” my head whipped around with the impact while she caught my wrist preventing me falling away from her. “Hai!” the side of her right hand held like a knife blade with the fingers straight slashed around in a blur delivering a hard Karate chop to the side of my neck. WHUMP! My body jerked as if getting an electric shock, my knees turning to jelly as I felt faint. Moving like a well-oiled feminine fighting machine before I had a chance to fall the slender uniformed blonde quickly slid her right arm around my waist while still holding my right wrist in her left hand. Spinning quickly around I felt her slender body press against mine then a moment of electric excitement as she leant forwards thrusting her hip into my groin. A spilt-second later I was whipped right over her hip rotating at a dizzying speed. My head came down fast as my body whipped right over the top with my feet way above me. In less than a second my body had pivoted over my sister in-law’s body from standing to flat on my back like a crazy hand on a clock. KERSLAM! “Orragh!” my back hit the floor at tremendous speed knocking my breath right out of me and having to close my eyes before the wild rapid spinning of the room made me sick.

WHOMP! The next second Marianne, still holding my right arm, dropped down by my left side. Throwing the crook of her right leg over my neck and her left leg lower down over my chest, my arm was pulled right back between her legs, pulling back her black skirt as it did so. With the back of my elbow levered over her crotch, she applied some sort of wrist-lock and bent my forearm back, stressing the elbow joint the wrong way. My body began to lift from the floor until a surge of power from her legs flattened me against the floor. In a couple of seconds my sister in-law had thrown and immobilised me. I was completely under her power with her skill and speed stunning me. “Argh!” I yelped as she maintained constant stress on my arm while pressing down my torso with her legs. Arching over the top of my neck was her bent knee. Angling down from this to my right was a long shin clad in sheer black nylon with a long but quite deep shapely calve dangling down and sensuously curving in towards her slender ankles which she had locked together. Sloping away to my left was a long expanse of thigh and a hint of stocking top. “Oh I’m sorry Jim. Those self-defence lessons you paid for [SISLAW#1] have trained my body to react on instinct” she apologised while still maintaining the side arm-bar. A stiffness began to spread over my groin at her words. She had been incredibly quick like a well-trained fighter.

I couldn’t help reaching out with my right hand and running the palm along the top of her long shin feeling the silky smoothness of her stockings. “I suspect the Salvation Army had something to do with that too” I remarked, still trapped helplessly. I knew that Marianne was a member of the Militant Wing of The Salvation Army, a little publicised team of women who took a more direct hands-on approach [JIMP#15 & 16]. I also knew that unknown to most of their members That they were controlled by The Sisterhood of Anahita for purposes of their own. “Perhaps” she said coyly. “OK, you’ve made your point. Very impressive too, now let me up” I told her. “No, I don’t think so” she replied “Maybe I should make you beg”. With that I felt her crotch rise pressing into the back of my elbow forcing it to rise above the line of my arm. “Arghh arghhh please arghh!” I cried as my arm bowed backwards in the middle. It felt like my forearm would snap off from the elbow backwards and the elbow itself would shatter. “Arghh arghh please Marianne stop” I begged. “Oh you men don’t know how to have fun” she protested with a teasing lilt before lowering her crotch allowing my aching arm to return to a more comfortable position.

Still she didn’t let me go and I lay there not knowing what to do except place my hand upon the large calve dangling to the right of my face and feel it’s semi pear-drop shape and quite substantial weight. “Yes, have a good grope of my legs Jim” she chuckled maintaining a more comfortable strain on my arm but still enough to not let me forget who was in charge. “You have beautiful calves” I remarked which got another chuckle. The side arm-bar is strangely erotic when performed by a woman on a man. Especially if she is wearing a short skirt, even more so if she is also wearing stockings and suspenders. With her sexy legs draped over his neck and chest, the woman flaunts her femininity right in front of his face. At the same time the feel of her legs on either side of his upper arm with her crotch pressing into the back of his elbow acting as a fulcrum to lever back his arm the way it is not meant to bend, is a constant reminder of how she is using her sex to humiliate him. Marianne kept me helpless in that side arm-bar for several more minutes letting me luxuriate in her self-defence proficiency and with nothing to look at except her legs right in front of my face, looking incredibly sensational clad in sheer black nylon. By the time she eventually slid back those sexy legs so that she sat by my side on the floor with her knees sharply bent, I had an absolute boner in my trousers which was too stiff to hide.

Two long shins with well shaped calves sloped down towards my side. I couldn’t stop staring. Marianne unbuttoned her black jacket then leant forwards, peering over her knees to stare at me lying there. The front of the smart white blouse fell forwards as the contents within dangled down. “Wow, you look sensational in uniform” I gasped sincerely. “Really hot” I added as my eyes followed the lines of her figure accentuated by the smart quasi-military uniform. A big wide smile appeared on her lips. “Jim, you are an incorrigible scoundrel” she replied. “You haven’t even thanked me for getting the donation from the army to help Sue out. She was in a right mess trying to cope with the bills”. From my position on the floor I could see right up her long shins with the big shapely calves squashed up against the back of her thighs. As her skirt was still rucked up, I also had a great view of the matt black band of her stocking tops around her upper thighs and a peek of the bare skin above. It was a distractingly sexy sight and Marianne had a knowing smile, fully aware of where my eyes were looking. That is why it took a while for her words to sink in. When it did I got to my knees looking over her own to face her. “I appreciate the help, it was greatly needed at the time but I will pay every penny back. If they don’t want to accept it, I will give them it as a donation” I stated firmly.