tagExhibitionist & VoyeurManhattan By Night

Manhattan By Night


Synthia looked stunning in her new dress. It was a grey sweater-dress, clingly in all the right places, but warm on this chilly Manhattan night. Black stockings, the material woven in an intricate whirl pattern, and two-inch black heels completed her outfit; Synthia didn't often wear jewelry, and he had often commented that next to her sparkling eyes and sweet smile any gemstones would be dull and lifeless in comparison.

He held the door to the taxicab as she entered, and followed her, envying the back seat that was able to cup her exquisite ass. They had tickets for Wicked later, and they were headed for dinner beforehand.

She had been quite the tease all week long, and while she had certainly made it up to him when he had returned home after a long day on the trade show floor. Several nights had involved changes in plans, but room service had been adequate, and Synthia had made quite a delectable dessert. Today had been the last day of the show, and he was looking forward to the weekend with her, able to go do horribly touristy things together at last.

He gave the taxicab driver instructions, and relaxed, cuddling up to his paramour. Synthia sighed contentedly, and snuggled up in his arms' embrace. They nuzzled all the way to the restaurant as Synthia told him about her day; she had taken the opportunity to visit museums that she'd wanted to see, but in which she suspected he had little interest.

They arrived at the restaurant. The restaurant was named "Punishment".

"What kind of a restaurant is this?" asked Synthia. "I mean, what kind of place considers eating there a sort of punishment?"

"Maybe they're planning on making me do the cooking," he quipped. "Surely that would punish the patrons enough that the restaurant could not be accused of violating truth-in-advertising laws."

Synthia leaned over and kissed him briefly. "Goofball."

He held the door as they entered the restaurant. He had made reservations, and they were seated. Synthia observed that the restaurant staff - male and female alike - were clad in leather outfits of various sorts.

"What exactly is on the menu here....?" she asked, a nervous grin on her face.

"What, is the menu written in French?" he replied, checking the menu. For all he knew, it was written in French, after all.

Their server came to the table. She was a slightly-built brunette with short-cropped hair, dressed in a leather buster and panties, flats, and little else.

"Good evening. My name is Rochelle, and I'll be taking care of your needs tonight" the server said in a soft, sultry voice. "May I get you a drink to begin?"

"Red sangria for the lady, and I'll have a diet soda", he ordered. The server went off to fetch their drinks, revealing that her leather panties were cut in thong style.

After consulting with her about her preferences, he ordered their meal, and as Synthia ate her chicken, she noticed that the floor of the restaurant was dominated by a small stage, upon which was built a large rectangular wooden frame, perhaps seven feet in height and five feet wide. Over the course of the meal, several patrons were brought up to the frame, and secured to it via the leather cuffs and chains that were attached at various points. What happened then varied, presumably in accord with the instructions of the patron; some were spanked by the patron, some were lightly castigated with small leather whips. Besides the frame was a small tray, that the servers called "the dessert tray", containing an assortment of paddles, whips, and other assorted devices.

Finally, Rochelle returned.

"May I tempt you with dessert? Perhaps some coffee?" she asked.

"An expresso for me, and tea for my lady, if you will, and tiramisu for the lady as well" he answered.

"Has she been a good girl, then?" the server asked, an arch to her eyebrow. Synthia blushed, partially in shock at the server asking the question, and partially in fear of what he would answer.

"She's been a right cocktease all week, actually," he declared matter-of-factly.

"And yet you let her have dessert? You are a generous Master" the server commented.

"Well, I do love her so... its hard to deny her aught she desires," he temporized.

"Well, this will never do... " the server said, turning towards Synthia. "Madame, if you will rise and come with me?"

Synthia felt her blush go even deeper. She glanced at her Master, who merely looked at her and nodded. Synthia knew that if she didn't want to, she could refuse, with no repercussions; he was, in essence, asking for her trust and indulgence. She also knew that he would never let things get out of hand, but she was curious as to what he had arranged.

She took the proffered hand and followed the server to the stage upon which the stage rested. He rose and followed the two of them to the stage, kissing her as she allowed first her wrists, then her ankles to be restrained. She was nervous, but not afraid... and not a little aroused.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a special treat tonight... what we call a wave. When we do a wave, we ask that anyone who desires to participate line up either in front or behind the frame, and as you pass, please let your hands reach out and caress her wherever you should desire. You may not linger, however, nor are you allowed to touch under whatever garments her Master leaves upon her. Now, please line up as her Master prepares her."

Butterflies rioted in Synthia's tummy as she digested this. "Your 'punishment' for a week of cock-teasing, my delicious little slut..." he whispered in her ear, biting her neck and shoulder. His hands roamed across her dress, and she imagined the patrons of the restaurant gazing upon her, as she had watched others get what they desired. She watched as two lines - one behind her, and one in front of her - began to form, and she noted that the lines were almost equal parts men and women, and included some of the restaurant staff.

"First... you don't get to see it coming...." he cooed as he fitted a soft blindfold over her head. She moaned softly as his hands ran over the front of the dress, touching her breasts in an intimate manner, and then his strong hands moved downwards, to the hem of her dress, which came just above the knees.

"So... stay-up stockings, or garter belt..." he rhetorically asked, moving the hem up her thighs with an agonizing slowness. "I'm going to find out... we're all going to find out..." She grinned. His investigations were about to reveal a surprise she had planned for his eyes only later in the evening.

"Oh dear..." he said as he bunched the stretchy, clingy material above her waist. He heard her chuckle at his reaction. "A cock-teaser to the end, I see..." he commented. She had decided not wear a one-piece bodysuit under the dress rather than be bothered with lingerie lines under the dress; under the dress she wore a tiny black lace g-string, more to entice him when he undressed her later than to actually cover herself in any meaningful fashion. Now, with the dress hiked around her waist, she was exposed to everyone.

"Don't worry, cara mia... I'll be right here," he reassured her. She refrained from mentioning that she was not afraid; she was excited, and growing more aroused my the moment in anticipation of strangers' hands touching her as they passed her by, under the inspection of their eyes and fingers. She caught her breath imagining all the men in which she would cause erections, and even more wickedly, of all the pussies that would become aroused because she was displayed before them like this, helplessly at their indulgence for their own excitement. She wondered how many of the women would go home this night and achieve orgasm with Synthia in their mind's eye as they masturbated or fucked their partners.

Then she heard a click, and the low hum of a vibrator.

"Oh, you didn't think I was going to let you be neglected, did you?" he chuckled. She jumped as she felt him run the vibrator over her dress-covered breasts, and her nipples ached against the thin bodystocking fabric and dress.

The line began. The restaurant patrons moved slowly, giving each participant a few seconds of indulgence against her body as they passed. Her breasts, her thighs, her ass, her lips.... each patron touched the part of her that attracted them most. She writhed in her bonds, struggling enticingly as her Master ran the vibrator over her body, occasionally handing it to the patrons. As the line progressed, more and more of them asked for the vibrator, and more and more of them focused their attention on her g-string, above where her clit would be. She found herself regretting the decision to wear a body stocking; it prevented some of the bolder patrons from "cheating" and slipping their fingers under the edges of the g-string, and she wanted them to touch her bare cunt.

Finally, the line was over... but he had not finished. In front of the eyes of the patron, he used the vibrator on her mercilessly, teasing moan after mortified moan out of her. She became so wet her moisture began to seep down her thighs, and her body bucked under his ministrations.

"Loudly... I want my sweet slut to cum loudly tonight... " he whispered. "If you don't, I'll just have to leave you here and continue until you cum loud enough for my satisfaction.

She didn't disappoint him, pressing herself forward against the vibrator. She screamed her orgasm, which crashed over her body in waves, and seemed to go on and on.

She felt her wrists and ankles being freed, her dress smoothed down over her hips and back into place. She leaned on his arm, still blindfolded, as their audience erupted with applause and whistles. She blushed furiously, but was quite pleased with her performance, and still aroused.

He removed her blindfold at the table, and tucked it into his pocket - a souvenir for the both of them of this night.

"You are in soooooo much trouble, Mister!" she said as they sipped their tea and coffee, nibbling on their tiramisu.

"I'm terrified" he remarked dryly.

"You should be!" she confirmed.

After all, payback was a bitch, or so it was said.

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