Under the Big Top, Under Cheeks - Cover

Under the Big Top, Under Cheeks

by Gator

Copyright© 2024 by Gator

BDSM Story: This is about a pretty circus performer who is spied on from behind by a chef. That's when the fireworks begin.

Tags: Ma/Fa   Heterosexual   Fiction   Workplace   Spanking   Revenge  

My name is Brownie the Baker. It’s actually a nickname. However, in my case, it kind of fits. That’s how I’m known around our bustling university campus and the surrounding quaint, little town.

I’m a professional pastry chef and act out the part, down to my white chef’s hat called a toque blanche, and matching uniform coat. Brownie is stenciled in brown across my tall cloth toque, which really fits on a night like this one.

I always liked to give back, so there I was carrying a tray of fresh-hot brownies outside in the back alley of the big-top circus.

This all went on while surrounded by the sounds of The Carla King Circus, an all-female circus, that was currently preforming inside the massive, red-striped canvas tent. However, there was one very cute trapeze artist taking a deserved break outside from the benefit performance.

This night’s three-ring extravaganza was to help the victims of Hurricane Helene in Asheville. All the rural peaks and valleys in the nearby Blue Ridge Mountains were included in the benefit.

There were many purple peaks and green valleys which had been devastated by mother nature. Mountain people were proud people; however, the landslides had washed their homes away, and as well as towns, like Chimney Rock and Lake Lure. Ones that depended on tourists. The purpose of the multiple circus performances was to help these poor people.

That was why Carla and I had made it our mission to feed the Maggie Valley people affected by the horrendous storm. We, along with other volunteers from the Sandhills.

It was something I was happy to whip up. donated and cooked on a pig picking trailer. Plus, a big recreation vehicle, RV was filled with donated food, toiletries and cleaning supplies. They had been transported to the heart of the Blue Ridge Mountains where 18-wheeler trucks couldn’t navigate the roads.

It was awesome. I definitely stood out as Brownie the Pastry Chef. I wanted to show gratitude for the lovely lasses who had generously given part of the night’s gate to the culinary school; I volunteered at to spur the gumption to make cooking a creative career.


It was the holidays, and I went as Brownie the pastry chef. We were having a costume party in the large lobby of the Culinary School of the Arts residence Hall.

There was a girl in front me as we left the coed residence hall lobby, who I knew from my classes in college. She was wearing a star-spangled, white leotard— her circus uniform, and she must have felt someone’s eyes on her, as she turned around to find her premonition had been on the money.

My eyes were on her white-and-orange-side-striped, sequin-clad bottom. It was that particular area of her one-piece majorette uniform that got the most attention when she marched around under the red-striped big top.

There was excitement in the air under that gigantic, red-striped big top tent. There was even a band playing, with girls in colorful leotards riding elephants around the stands filled with circus-goers. After enjoying the circus, the fans left to file in through the turnstiles to go to watch and enjoy the game.

 
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