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Vicky The Pervert Pt 2 The Sadistic Sister	By : Wendell Urth Category: +1 through F > Fairly OddParents Views: 3091 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: The Fairly OddParents and all associated characters belong to their respective creators and owners, not me. I receive no compensation whatsoever for this story.

Chapter List
- 1-The Sadistic Sister
- 1
Vicky the Pervert Part 2, The Sadistic Sister
“Too much a sadist and not patient enough”
Disclaimer: The Fairly OddParents and all associated characters belong to their respective creators and owners, not me. I receive no compensation whatsoever for this story.

The room was a concrete box under hidden under the basement behind a nest of pipes. Timmy rested on his knees, his hands bound by leather straps tied behind him to his ankles. He waited in silence and discomfort. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed. He spent most of it with Cosmo & Wanda far away from this place.
He heard the rattle of the heavy lock.
She entered the room. In the dimness he recognized her outfit. Military style officer’s cap. Black leather corset. Black patent leather jackboots. Her nipples burst forth from the top of the corset. Her normally pink nips and areola were painted a deep scarlet to match her lipstick and nail polish. And matched her furry scarlet pubes. The color of blood. Light from outside was reflected off the stiffly polished leather surfaces of her uniform. Black and red… and silver.
Silver death’s head badge on cap and epaulettes. Silver SS Insignia. Three thick silver rings piercing labia.
A nightmare vision in black, red and silver.
A high intensity light suddenly outlined his bound, naked figure, nearly blinding Timmy.
The silhouette of SS Gruppenführer Vicky disappeared in the shadows.
Timmy gulped. There was the swish of a stick rhythmically tap, tap, tapping against the side of a boot. Suddenly, the edge of the swagger stick touched his shoulder. He stifled the urge to scream. He was tapped under the jaw three times and he opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out as he had been trained to do. The swagger stick was poised in front of him. He kissed the tip. Licked it.
He was wishing himself away to Fairyland with Cosmo and Wanda, but was having problems maintaining the illusion. He knew what could happen here.
Suddenly the lead weighted tip struck him across the back leaving a welt. He screamed and fell on his side. A cloud of cement dust billowed upwards. A second sudden searing bolt of pain as his dick and balls bore the brunt of the sadist’s blow.
There was the meaty sound of a slap, but it never landed on Timmy!
“Ach, dumm kleines Mädchen.”
Timmy, face pressed to the dirty floor looked up in tears at Vicky in her Gestapo bondage outfit. He hadn’t noticed a second shorter figure in similar attire that stood next to her. Woebegone.
“I can’t believe you did that! Didn’t you hear me tell you, “No bruises, no marks, no broken teeth?” Today was a training session.”
Then, after a moment, “And how many times must I tell you, you don’t start with a thrashing. You take him there slowly. You make him anticipate the pain, to accept it. He must believe he deserves it! That’s how you break him! We had all night and now he’s useless until he recovers. Stupid, stupid girl! (Slap!).”
This time Tootie flew across the room, crashing into the cement wall and crumbling to the floor. Although Vicky had slapped her minimal force, the fingerless gloves she wore on the other hand was loaded with lead shot. A powerful slap could maim or kill. As it was, two of Tootie’s teeth were loosened.
Tootie in her identical leather corset and uniform, tiny tits exposed, nipples painted black to match her lipstick and nail polish, and was bare bottomed, looked up at her sister. Her bare puss was painted black with shiny makeup. Even in the dim light Timmy could see the outline of Vicky’s handprint on her face. Timmy couldn’t help himself. In spite of the pain, he began to laugh. Then vomited a little.
Vicky couldn’t allow that. Laughter - It was a violation of discipline. She realized that punishing her sister should have been done out of his sight. He’d lose all respect for the sisters.
Vicky stepped in the vomit and brought the pointy toe of her boot to Timmy’s face. Through the tears and pain, he kissed it. Disgusted, she resisted the urge to kick him in the face. She really wanted to kick her sister.
“Come here. This animal has fouled my nice clean dungeon make sure he cleans it all up. Then you can untie him. Clean him up. Later, we’ll start with the mother instead.” She turned and left the room.
Looking back at her sister, “You ruined the fantasy. Just ruined it.” It was like a pronouncement of doom in the world the sisters’ shared.
Vicky stepped through to the well-lit basement. She stood in front of the small electric fan and let the cool air blow on her naked pussy. The three silver loops that pierced her labia cooled quickly bringing a smile to the woman’s face. The corset was hot and heavy especially in the sweltering dungeon. Her red dyed pubes were drenched in sweat.
Before going upstairs and untying Mrs. Turner, she lit a cigarette and considered her options. Had it only been three years since she had started as the Turner’s babysitter? Seemed like more. Two since she had taken over their lives and one year since the death… or “the disappearance” as it was currently considered by the authorities…
“Five, six more years… five fucking years at least before I can get control of the estate. Shit.” She let the smoke out through her nose. “Maybe we should give up…” but Vicky knew she wouldn’t, there was too much money at stake and the total control she had over the boy and his so-called “mother” was too sweet to surrender after all her hard work!
Tootie was becoming a problem. “Too much a sadist and not patient enough,” she sighed. Vicky was really mostly upset by the blow to his cock and balls. That sweet little… she shook her head. “So many fantasies about…” she broke off the thought.
Maybe it was time to consider a change in her plans? Having the Twerp marry her sister and being in control by proxy had always been the plan. They were almost the same age. Being the sister-in-law of a tremendous estate was one thing… but “being married to it? Herself?!?” She smiled her evil little smile. “Well, there’s time,” she considered. It was worth thinking about. “Marrying the Twerp myself instead of Tootie? He’d be 18, I’d be… 24 or 25 (“Not that big an age difference, after all”) and in total control when the inheritance is settled… and let’s not forget those juicy insurance policies that come due when the “missing” father is declared legally dead.
She snorted at the word “missing”. Mr. Turner wasn’t missing, not really. Vicky knew where he was. Fly to Bermuda, take a boat twenty-five miles east from the main island… and 2.2 miles straight down. “Glub, glub, glub!” That was the club she held over the boy and his mother.
It would hours at least until the booze and drugs wore off and Mrs. Turner would be in any shape to play with. In the meantime, Vicky yearned for something to take the edge off. “Feisty. I feel feisty.” She knew what to do. She had promised herself not to relieve herself this way. It was dangerous. She knew it was a piece of evidence she needed to destroy… but couldn’t.
Vicky removed the stiff SS uniform had inherited from her great grandfather. Her coarse braided red hair was looped around her head. “Very Aryan! Very much the Master Race,” she giggled. Great grandfather would be proud his legacy lived on!
She looked at the antique silver skull and crossbones badge which seemed to wink at her with approval. She wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand, anxious to go to her room and begin the ritual which always brought her release.
Vicky hadn’t really known her great grandfather. She was so young when he died… the second time…. For real. He had officially died in the last days of WWII, but his work had been considered too valuable to the US Army and had been given a new identity and eventually was allowed to emigrate to the US. She had a picture of herself naked, sitting on his lap when he was an old, old man, a smiling Santa Claus figure with a long white beard and the same twinkle in his eyes that she saw in the SS death’s head badge attached to his Nazi uniform hat. In the picture young Vicky was laughing hysterically. You couldn’t quite see where the old man’s hands were.
One of his responsibilities during the war overseeing an orphanage for adolescent children. There was absolutely no reason to suspect that he was a pervert… except for that twinkle in the eyes of his photo… and the death’s head badge… and her own eyes when she looked in the mirror and thought about Timmy... Her Timmy.
Vicky envied her great grandfather, thousands of children passed under his care. But Vicky didn’t need thousands of children.
She only needed one.
Well, maybe a few more later… after Timmy grows up… but for now…
Timmy Turner. She needed Timmy Turner.

Meanwhile, back in the dungeon…
Timmy lay on his stomach, hands still bound behind him. Tootie had turned the powerful lamp back on him and studied his naked body.
His back was a map of mostly long healed scars, lines and ridges from his first foster home. It was the map to Tootie’s heart. She longed to explore every ridge, to memorize every half healed line and mark with her tongue. She knelt by his still trembling body and brought her face close to the welt she had marked him with. It was red and puffy and felt warm against her lips. The coppery iron taste of his blood excited her. And there were still so many blank places on his naked skin where she could leave her own marks, her imprint… to make him hers, now and forever. But her fucking Nazi cunt of a sister wouldn’t allow it!
Oh, Tootie understood the reasons. Besides that idiot Crocker from Dimmsdale Social Services, there were the lawyers for the estate of Timmy’s real parents. After the disaster of his first foster family (after his parents tragic deaths), there was a lot of concern for his safety. The Turners (before Mr. Turner disappeared) came close to losing Timmy a couple of times due to their neglect. They had received a generous allowance to take care of Timmy and spent it all on themselves. Then Vicky came into their lives as a full-time babysitter and caretaker for the child… and Tootie followed!
The ever-vigilant Crocker could be paid off to warn them of “surprise” inspections. The lawyers for the estate were mostly satisfied with Crocker’s findings. The life insurance policies on Mr. Turner were frozen for now. “Five years. Maybe six more years.” She could wait… as long as they were careful…
Tootie was overjoyed by her sister’s plans for them. She couldn’t wait for the day Timmy would be old enough to marry her! She didn’t mind transferring all that money to Vicky after the marriage… as long as Timmy was hers to do with as she pleased.
Well, maybe she didn’t mind very much. It was a lot of money…
Timmy was off in one of his fantasy trips, she knew. He was mumbling something like “Cosmic Wonder” or “Wander the Cosmos” or something stupid like that. He did it a lot, it didn’t matter. She knew she could bring him back to reality anytime she wanted.
She stuck her index finger in her mouth. The nail was hardened and artificially sharpened to a nasty point and nearly cut her tongue as she moistened it. She teased his asshole for a moment until he moaned and thrust it deep inside. The shock to his body delighted her as she felt the blood coat her finger. She withdrew her bloody digit and began to write on his smooth scar free part of an ass cheek. “T-o-o-t-i-e” in cursive script. She dotted the “i” with the knife sharp point of her finger nail drawing a muffled gasp from the boy as she pierced the skin.
The bloody signature would wash off. The dotted “i” puncture wound had already stopped bleeding and wouldn’t be noticeable soon. That made her sad, though it was necessary. The young girl dreamed of the day she would have her own branding iron.
Then there could be no question who he belonged to.
She closed her eyes and could almost smell the sizzling tender flesh.
“Timmy? Timmy? Can you hear me?”
He was back now, she could tell. He began to crawl to her, though she had left his wrists tied to his ankles in spite of Vicky’s instructions.
“Good boy. Sweet boy,” as he leveraged himself back upright on his knees at her feet. She laughed as he struggled and finally propped himself up against her legs. “Go ahead,” she commanded as he brought his face to her naked greasepaint blackened pussy.
He smeared his face against her pubes. She grabbed his hair, spread her legs and jammed his face into her. In the shadows, the heavy black makeup she had coated her pussy with looked like blood against the pale skin of his face.
She orgasmed.
She wished she had a camera for this moment! One of those old-fashioned professional black and white flash cameras you saw in old movies to photograph the dark stains on his face, the faux blood. But that was impossible. There could be no evidence of what they did here in the dark or upstairs in the light. The entire house smelled faintly of bleach where between visits by the on-call housecleaners, Timmy spent long hours scrubbing away at any trace of vomit, blood or cum. “This must be the cleanest run-down house in town!”
There were no emails, text messages or even phone calls about what went on here. Tootie was forbidden to even carry a cell phone.
Vicky policed her activities relentlessly.
Well… Vicky wasn’t perfect. “What she don’t know can’t hurt me!”
“Someday,” she promised herself, “the blood would be real.”
Then thinking some more, she wondered “And why should Vicky control all the money? After all, I’m his wife… or I will be. Besides…” she knew, “Timmy will do whatever I say.” And Tootie believed that was true.
“SNAP”

She had a secret. Something that even her sister was unaware of. Last spring, while the other kids were in school, Tootie & Timmy went to the park together. Away from Vicky and Mrs. Turners’ prying eyes. Timmy was not supposed to get involved with the other kids in Dimmsdale. There had been several bad incidents when Crocker insisted on trying to mainstream him back into public school.
But hey, kids are kids.
“SNAP”
Timmy came home with a badly broken finger. Happened during a baseball game. Timmy had tried to catch a pop fly without a glove, Tootie explained. Vicky was mad because they were due for a visit from Crocker, but he just laughed it off. “Kids are kids.”
Of course, the envelope they left on the coffee table was fatter than usual and disappeared when they went to the kitchen to make him coffee. Fortunately, the lawyers had just come through with an increase in “Timmy’s” allowance so Vicky and his mother were celebrating.
Tootie was happy too. Vicky could usually tell when she was lying, but missed the signals this time.
“SNAP”
Tootie… The sound had entered her ears and echoed through her skull, ping ponging its way through the pleasure centers of her brain.
“SNAP”
The sound, rather than fade or be forgotten, picked up momentum as it bounced off the walls of tiny but thick skull.
“SNAP”
The sound etched itself permanently in her brain cells and could be replayed in all its glorious stereophonic majesty whenever she needed to hear it.
“SNAP”
“SNAP”
“SNAP”
For the first time in her life, she came without having to touch herself. Her tiny, barely developed clit stood up at attention and buzzed its buzzer sending jolts of pleasure through her tiny body.
“SNAP”
She lured Timmy into the woods behind the playground. He sat with his back to a tree, obviously spacing out as he usually did. She sat next to him and stared into his eyes. “Anybody home?” she asked. Clearly no.
She picked up his left hand and gently kissed the back of it. He was smiling. She grabbed his index finger.
“SNAP”
He screamed.
She wiggled the finger around, feeling the broken bone shift and grate under the surface. His eyes rolled back in his head and he fainted.
She waited for him to regain consciousness. That’s what friends do for friends.
It was clear he didn’t really remember what had happened so he let Tootie do the talking, explaining to Vicky. By the Time Tootie was done he believed that’s what had happened… and was proud of himself that he was able to catch the ball without a glove and not drop it!
Everybody was happy!
But no one was happier than Tootie.
“SNAP”

Next time
Vicky the Pervert Part 3. The secret of Vicky’s room
- 1
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Vicky The Pervert Pt 2 The Sadistic Sister