Chapter Six

"Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday to you!"

Everybody sang in the overly crowded dining room as Natasha's step-mother brought a birthday cake to her seated father. This wasn't his real birthday cake though, he'd had that yesterday. The one Natasha had baked herself. This was a fancy one her step-mother had bought and hadn't put the love into by making it herself. But still, Natasha joined in the birthday sing-along and did not begrudge her for not using her cake. She knew appearances meant everything to her step-mother and truthfully, appearances meant a lot to Natasha, too.

"Natasha! Help me serve the cake!" her step-mother beckoned her over to her.

She smiled at her step-mother, Carol, and jumped up to help her. She liked Carol. She was a good woman really, but she had come into her life too late to think of her as a second mother, and the age gap between them was too broad for her to think of her as a friend.

After serving slices of cake to everybody, she gave herself a piece last of all. When she sat down with it, she felt her phone vibrate. She'd been waiting to get a text from him all day. Really he could not have chosen a more inconvenient time, but as she was so keen to hear from him, she set her cake aside and opened the text, trying to shield it from nearby people as best as she could.

"What kind of panties are you wearing today?"

Well that was a polite way to start a conversation.

"I'm kind of busy right now. It's my daddy's birthday party and I can't really be sneaking off to fulfill your wishes."

She immediately sent another text, "Sorry, Mr. Ambrose."

She went back to socializing with the other guests and making sure that everyone was enjoying the party, even her father. She felt her phone vibrate once more, but this time, she ignored it. She had politely told him that she couldn't play right now, so he would just have to wait or leave his instructions for her to do later.

Over the next hour, she felt her phone buzz three more times. On the third, she decided that she had to deal with him now, or he'd just keep bothering her all night. She excused herself from the celebration, feigning digestive issues.

Once she was back up in her room, she opened her new messages.

"I don't care if it's your credit card's birthday, it's not an excuse."

"I don't think you really want to be doing this right now."

"I mean it, sweetcheeks. Don't fuck with me."

"You do realize that the longer you put it off, the worse your instructions will be…"

Natasha quickly sent back a reply after seeing the threatening nature of his texts.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Ambrose. I was able to finally slip away from the party. I am wearing baby blue bikini style panties today."

"It's about fucking time," he texted back. "We're past me wanting to know what panties you're wearing. You wasted that easy challenge when you ignored me."

Well, that wasn't very friendly. She'd just taken time away from her father's birthday party, a very important occasion, not just for her but for their extended family and friends, and he was swearing at her? Natasha wondered what she could say to show that she wasn't so easily pushed around.

"I didn't expect it would be that easy."

She stared at the text before sending it, deciding whether taking that tone with him really was a good idea or not. It probably wasn't, but she had some self-respect so she sent the text. Then she slumped back against her closed bedroom door to await his reply. If he acted a little more reasonable with her she would be willing to play.

"Oh? You're getting an attitude with me? Let me remind you that this is the price you said you were willing to pay to see me on Monday."

Natasha felt like a little school girl getting told off by her teacher. It wasn't just that it did not feel nice, she couldn't help feeling a bit afraid of her school teachers back in the day and Ambrose made her feel the same way. She had agreed to play by his rules, but on the other hand, the things he was making her do went against all of her conceptions of how a relationship with a man should go. Nevertheless, she knew she had to apologize to minimize any damage she might have done to her chances of seeing him on Monday.

"It is. I'm sorry I took an attitude with you. But it is my dad's birthday party today."

She awaited his reply with baited breath, but at least she had stuck up for herself. That was the right thing to do.

"STFU about your Daddy's birthday party. Right now, I am the only person that matters. Obey my next order or I will punish you."

Oh god! That apology had not been accepted the way she thought it would be! She almost dropped her phone when she felt it buzz again. She opened it to see that Ambrose had followed up the previous text with a one word text.

"Severely."

It finally sunk in that he wasn't playing around with her. She didn't want to know what sort of punishment he had in mind, so she immediately sent a text back to confirm that she was giving in.

"Yes, Mr. Ambrose. I understand and will obey you." She was pretty sure that was what he wanted to see.

"Good. Now go get some scissors and take a photo of them to prove it."

That was…odd. Why did he want her to get a pair of scissors? She knew that he wouldn't tolerate her asking him why she was to get this item because he would take it as insolence, so she got up off the floor and began to go through the drawers of her desk. After a few minutes (since she is not a very neat and organized girl) she finally found a pair of scissors with a pretty pink handle.

She took a picture of the scissors and sent it to Dean with the message "Here are the scissors."

He responded back with "Don't you think you're missing something?"

She yelped upon realizing that she had forgotten the most important part of the message; the main thing that he really seemed to care about.

"Here are the scissors, Mr. Ambrose."

"Good girl. Now I want you to take off whatever cutesy party dress you're wearing and lie down on your bed in your bra and panties."

She undressed, smiling a little at the fact that Dean thought she had been wearing a party dress, rather than her nice slacks and flower print blouse. When she was in a comfortable position, she took a modest picture and sent it to him, not feeling as ashamed as she had the night before.

"Very nice. Now take the scissors, spread your legs, and cut a slit through your panties so I can see your pussy."

Natasha's face reddened at the obscene request, she couldn't possibly do that. What did he think she was? A playboy playmate?

"Please can I do something else Mr. Ambrose?" she texted back. She wasn't being disobedient, but she had standards.

She waited longer than usual for his reply. Did that mean he was thinking of something else she could do instead? She hoped so. When her phone vibrated again she crossed the fingers of her left hand as she went to open the text.

"No. I said it'd be worse for you if you continued to ignore me, and you did, so it is. I'm not going to tell you again. Lie on the bed, spread your legs, cut a slit through your panties and send me a picture."

After reading the text with Dean's previous threats very fresh in her mind, Natasha realized she really had no choice. She supposed Dean was right. She had brought this on herself.

"Yes Mr. Ambrose," Natasha replied in defeat.

She could almost cry at what she was being forced to do. It was a travesty; such a pretty pair of panties, and they matched her bra too, would be completely ruined.

"Why? Why? Why?!" she muttered to herself as she slipped them down to her ankles. Once removed she carefully made a sharp fold in them. "Goodbye panties," she sighed and then she made one neat cut through the fold.

When she opened them out, she held a pair of homemade crotchless panties in her hands. She opened the gap with her fingers and looked through the hole she made. That was one big hole when opened out like that! She put them back on and tentatively opened her legs, hoping this would all backfire on Dean and he wouldn't see a thing because the gap would not gape. Unfortunately for her, the further she stretched her legs, the wider she saw the gap become. The stretch fabric desperately wanted to give and would not hug her pussy closely.

"This is so embarrassing," she whispered to herself as she then held the camera out.

She looked into the screen and was treated to a view of what exactly Ambrose would see, and she was actually surprised to find that she looked sexy. She kind of did look like a playboy playmate. Was that really such a bad thing? When she felt herself become wet, she realized that maybe it wasn't.

She could clearly see the soft pink color of her pussy in between the baby blue fabric. She didn't spread her legs so far that he would be able to see every obscene inch of her, but it was a nice teasing image, and if she looked closely, she could even see her tiny clit peeking through.

She sent it to him without any comment and waited for his reply. While she waited, she placed her hand softly between her legs and began to stroke the mix of skin and fabric that was there. She could feel the heat radiating from her core and she could feel the slickness of her arousal right against her fingertips. She felt so dirty knowing that all those people were downstairs right now and they had no clue what depraved things she was doing up here.

"Beautiful. I guess you can follow directions. I was beginning to think that you were either stupider or less disciplined than I had thought."

She was torn between being upset that he was still insulting her after she had followed his instructions and being turned on by the fact that he had called her pussy beautiful.

"How many pairs of panties did you bring with you?"

"14."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes, Mr. Ambrose."

"Chicks and clothes...I just don't get it. Whatever. Put all of your panties in a pile and let me see."

It took her a while to gather all of them from her suitcase, but after a few minutes, she had them spread out between her legs on the bed in a pool of colors.

She trailed her hand over the pile and enjoyed the feel of soft silk, lace and cotton. She giggled thinking about throwing them in the air and having them land all over her, like she was having a panties party. So it was with a big smile on her face that she snapped a picture of them and sent it to Dean.

"You spoiled brat. How many pairs of panties do you think you own in total?" he replied.

That made the smile on her face slip a little bit. She had paid for these panties, with Daddy's money if she was being totally honest, but she had chosen them. It would just be weird if he had bought them for her, so really Dean had no idea what he was talking about. He had asked an interesting question, though. She had too many to count. Back at her own apartment she had one drawer that was just filled with panties.

"100," she text back at a guess, then she went back to feeling the soft skin of her pussy lips.

"That's ridiculous. Do you think you deserve that many pairs of panties?"

Natasha frowned. He was really putting her off the pleasurable sensations currently coursing through her body.

"Yes Mr. Ambrose," she quickly text back. All girls deserved as many pairs of panties as they liked.

"Fine. I guess you won't miss a few of them then, right? I want you to cut pussy slits in each of them."

Natasha dropped her phone when she read his text. Why? What was the point of this? She understood how he got enjoyment from the other things he had asked her to do. The photos of her in her underwear, of her ass, and of her privates - she assumed that he had become turned on by them, or at least had been entertained. She even sort of understood the idea behind cutting the slit in the first pair of panties. There was something taboo about crotchless undies, and the allure of a frilly panty mixed with the blatant sexuality of a bare pussy did make for an arousing combination…but what would making 14 pairs of crotchless panties do? What sort of pleasure would he get from that? Was it that he enjoyed torturing her?

She really didn't want to do it, but she knew that if she sent Dean back a whiny text about how it was unfair, he would just get angry at her and make her do it anyway, or make her instructions worse somehow. She reluctantly picked up the scissors and began to cut a slit in each pair of panties.

As she made each incision, she thought about whether the chance of being alone with him on Monday night was worth it. She thought back to how the light tickle of his breath felt on her skin. She thought about the sharp sting of his large hand spanking her ass. She thought about how his tongue felt running in between the lips of her pussy. When she was done cutting up all of the panties, she realized that she had created a small wet spot on her bed sheets. It seemed that her body was trying to tell her that a couple of ruined panties were a worthy sacrifice.

She arranged them in such a way that he could see that they all were cut like he asked, and then she took the expected photo. She sent it to him and lied back on the bed, gently rubbing her hand between her legs and imagining how good she would feel when she was with him again.

Natasha quickly rubbed herself to a very aroused state. It felt so good that when her phone vibrated with Dean's reply she was in no rush to read it.

"You didn't have to be told to send a picture, I'm impressed. They look so much better now. You've done well today. Run along to Daddy's party now, Princess," read the text.

But Natasha was no longer desperate to get back to the festivities. She wanted to play with Dean a bit. She wanted to hear how much he had liked the pictures, what he was thinking, what he wanted to do to her. However, everybody would be wondering where she had got to if she stayed up here much longer, but she couldn't help sending him another text.

"Why did you want me to cut up my panties Mr. Ambrose?" she asked in the hopes that it would start a conversation to her liking.

'Why do you think? I like making you do slutty things. Don't question me again,' he quickly replied.

Natasha didn't have the good sense to leave it there.

"Will you text me tomorrow?"

"I said don't question me again...but yes, I will text you tomorrow. Now do as you're told or I will get very angry with you."

Natasha could imagine how his voice would turn cold if he said that to her and how the sting of his hand on her backside or across her face for making him repeat himself would feel.

She put her phone down on her nightstand so that she wouldn't be tempted to send another message, probably a cutesy goodnight one. She got up and gathered all of the destroyed panties in one large pile. She was about to pick them up and toss them in the trash when the phone vibrated again, much to her surprise.

"You'd better not throw away those crotchless panties. I want you to bring them with you on Monday."

Did he somehow know what she was thinking of doing? Did he have a secret camera in her father's house somehow? Or was she just that transparent that he could easily guess what she would do with the panties? Either way, Natasha had basically just received confirmation that she was destined to feel Dean's strong arms around her once more on Monday.

"That is if you obey my orders tomorrow."

Dammit.