(Originally posted in r/SpankStories)
Peyton was petite, compassionate, fun, but sassy. She was barely 5’0, and her long sandy brown hair made her seem shorter. And even now at 18, she floated through life on her parents’ charge card, or her friends’ parents’ when she maxed that out.
She had a young face that gave away her naivety to the world, and the body of a volleyballer that always seemed to attract the wrong kind of attention. The small frame and round bottom were a dangerous combination on the court, but also for a newly minted adult who didn’t know when to say no.
Her exceptionalism in the sport was the only thing that kept the college she was attending from kicking her out after the first semester. Besides the party lifestyle she was in over her head with and made no attempt hide, she had begun to plagiarize to try and keep up with her work. Peyton was a good girl at heart. All she’d really wanted to do was fit in and make high grades. She just didn’t know the right way to go about doing either one. Well, she had some idea, but the work seemed entirely too daunting.
The only thing standing between Peyton and everything she’d ever wanted, an undefeated season, good grades, better friends, was consistent discipline. But she’d never know that without a wake up call, and with her parents too busy at work and the college too dependent on their donations to burst her bubble, one wasn’t coming anytime soon.
Or it wouldn’t have, if she hadn’t gotten greedy. It never occurred to Peyton that all her friends weren’t as filthy rich as she was. So when she was out shopping and her own card was blown, she asked her friend Dia to use hers. Everyone knew Peyton was the popular girl, and behind her face full of makeup and innocent smile, she could be a full fledged demon if she wanted to.
Dia hesitated, but Peyton might have indirectly suggested that if she didn’t help her out this one time, that she’d find it really difficult fitting in at future parties with Peyton and her friends. So Dia did what she had to do.
The thing is, Dia was broke. So her dad called up Peyton’s parents and asked for that money back. Peyton’s parents were self made, they came from nothing, and they couldn’t believe their daughter needed more than the $5,000 a month in no strings attached spending money they issued her.
Her mother had always warned that she was growing spoiled, but her father had always brushed it off as just the way girls were. But Peyton was an adult now, and he was appalled at the way she’d treat a friend.
They called her that same day and informed her that not only would she have to pay Dia’s family back every last dime that she took from them, but that she’d have to get a job. No more money flowing in for free. She was 18 now, she was on her own.
Peyton was shaken at first, but she quickly convinced herself this was an empty threat, like all her parents’ “punishments.” She told them if they thought she was getting a job then they better think again, and they better be prepared for her to start failing her classes because she’s so busy with work. But they told her the truth, that they’d worked all through high school and college, so she could too, and if she started to fail, they’d stop paying tuition.
And that was that.
Peyton told them she’d gotten a job at the Smoothie Star. But she’d lied. She had some spare cash stashed around. And she could press her friends. But she quickly found her friends didn’t have access to nearly the same amount of cash she was used to, and soon, she got desperate. She was running out of makeup, she couldn’t pay the girl she usually had write her midterms for her, her life was falling apart.
So, one day, in an Uber (her parents hadn’t realized they’d left their card in her account, thank goodness) Peyton saw a tip jar. It was filled to the brim with money. There had to be at least a couple hundred dollars in there.
As far as she was concerned, this guy didn’t do anything to contribute meaningfully to society. She was in college getting a real education for a real job. He was just being lazy driving around instead of learning a real lucrative skill. If she took it, Uber would probably just reimburse him, right? Totally. So, at a stoplight, she made a grab for it.
The driver, Julian, had gone to college. Not that that should’ve mattered one way or the other. He went to trade school after he finished serving in the military. He installed power lines for 20 years and he raised five rambunctious boys, three who also went on to serve in the military. He had a back injury that took him off the line, so now he had to drive Uber to make extra money until he could figure out his next steps.
Julian was heavy set but muscular, half white half Puerto-Rican, with green eyes, a quick wit, and a low tolerance for bullshit. He was a classic father figure. Soft spoken in his day to day life, but stern in an instant if you tested him. He could have an unrivaled commanding presence if need be, but his calm was unshakable, even in a rage.
He hated driving for Uber in this college town. The local university was a total party school and he was sick of these kids trashing his car, talking down to him, and otherwise acting as though they had no home training. Sometimes he fantasized about what he’d say, hell, what he’d do to them, if they were his kids.
Not to mention, the richer they were, the worse they tipped. He was terrified for the future of the country if these were the people who’d be voting in it. And today was no exception.
As he pulled up to a stoplight on a $35.00 fare, the young girl he’d been driving tried to bolt with his tip jar. He’d been keeping an eye on her because she’d done a pretty obvious camera sweep when she got in. So obvious in fact that she’d asked, “Does your car have cameras? Because if it does, you have to tell me, it’s the law.”
He did have a camera. And it was clearly marked. So he’d just pretended he didn’t speak English when she’d asked. Because if she didn’t notice his obvious sign indicating it’s presence, then she‘d be laughed out of court. Besides, it didn’t pick up audio.
He’d been keeping a pretty close eye on her since she made that remark, and not because of his military training, just because of a little thing called common sense.
Then she very dramatically wrapped her hands around his tip jar, which he kept velcroed down anyways. At that point, he locked his doors. Then, the light turned green. Then, he pulled into a parking lot, ended her trip, and made a U-Turn.
“Ahhh!! Help!! Kidnap!!” She screamed. “No ma’m.” “Then… then where are you taking me? Hey! I thought you didn’t speak English?” She protested. “I’m taking you to the police station.” Julian said, motioning to the dash cam, clearly marked. The color drained from Peyton’s face.
“No. No, no, please don’t.” She begged. “I don’t think we have much to discuss here.” Peyton kicked the seat. “Listen, you dirty beaner!” She shrieked, “I’ll take *you* to the police and have you arrested for kidnapping. So turn around right now and let me out of this car!” Julian stayed quiet. Which was tough for a man in his position. Every fatherly instinct in him wanted to set this girl straight. But he knew that was the cops’ job now.
Before she’d made a grab for the tips, she’d been having the most awful phone conversation. Talking about plans to plagiarize a term paper and to basically bully some girl off of her sports team because she wouldn’t lend her money. If that was one of his boys, he’d have been put in his place by now. And this girl couldn’t have been older than, what, a teenager? High school?
He tried to drown out her furious, occasionally racist, rants as they approached the police station. But suddenly, it occurred to him. His boys hadn’t been all perfect, and none of them would be where they were today if people hadn’t cut them some slack along the line.
Obviously he couldn’t just let her go. But maybe he didn’t have to ruin her life with the permanent blemish of a criminal record. It’s not like she got away with the money or anything.
He sighed. “How old are you darlin’?” He asked, adjusting his mirror to see her face. She looked even younger with the tears streaking her makeup. “Eig—Eighteen.” She croaked. “Damn, she’s an adult? Did no one ever step up and raise these damn kids?” Julian thought to himself.
She doesn’t need policing, she needs parenting… he thought to himself. He pulled into the parking lot of a service station. “Alright. Listen, I’m gonna give you a chance to convince me of why you don’t deserve to be turned into the police.” He said.
“Ohmigosh. Ok. Uh… I didn’t actually take the money. You probably would’ve gotten it paid back anyways. And, uh, I really needed it for stuff.” He listened to her go on and his decision became more and more solidified. “Alright, Missy, listen up. You can’t just walk away scott free for what you did. Not again. I have a feeling that’s what you’ve been doing all your life, anyhow. So you’ve got two choices. I can take you and that tape to the police and let come what may. Or we can decide an appropriate punishment that doesn’t require you going into the court system.”
Peyton’s ears perked up at that. Punishment, for her, had always been synonymous with “Nothing.” That wasn’t a reality Julian could even fathom, but in Peyton’s eyes, she began to see a light at the end of the tunnel. “Let’s just figure out a punishment ourselves. Great idea. A+.” She said, sitting back, relaxed.
Was she that afraid of jail or does she lack that much respect for discipline? Julian wondered. He had something in mind already. She wouldn’t like it. But that was the point. He almost wanted to keep it a surprise until they got to a good spot for it, but he didn’t want to be out the gas money for three trips he wouldn’t be paid for if she’d change her mind once she knew the consequences. And that she’d be expected to actually face them this time.
”Alright. So here’s your options, you ready? I’m gonna give you to the police and you can take your chances with prison. Or I’m gonna spank your bare butt.” Julian said, arms crossed. Peyton laughed, awkwardly. “No, seriously. What? What are the choices. Come on.”
Julian rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what you were expecting Missy. It’s got to be a punishment I can see go down. Anything else and I won’t know you follow through. So that’s either me bringing you to the cops, or a spanking.” “No way. Bring me to the cops. Pervert.” Peyton said, kicking his seat again. “Ok. I’m just saying, you seem like a good person who just had some bad parenting. I’m giving you a chance to correct that, without throwing your life away into the system. A spanking will be over a lot faster than a trial.”
He stopped, wondering why he was trying to convince her to take him up on his good deed that would make her life better. He’d have an easier time just bringing her to the cops. “But, your call. Way easier for me to just drag you to the cops. So you know what, forget it.” He said, redacting the offer.
Peyton shifted hesitantly in her seat, swirling a lock of her long hair between her fingers and batting her eyelashes in thought. She weighed the pros and cons. A spanking was pretty draconian, but, it *would* be over right away and no one would have to know. If she went to prison, if she were even arrested without a conviction, everyone would know. Even that bitch Lauren and her goody two shoes Christian friends who’re always trying to get her to go to their church. She’d never hear the end of this from them. So…
“Ok. Fine.” Peyton acquiesced. “Fine what?” Julian asked, as he prepared to peel out towards the station. “Fine. Spank me.” Peyton said, quietly. “You’re sure?” Julian asked, running a hand through his buzzed hair, wondering what he’d gotten himself into. “Yep.” She replied, with a smug satisfaction as she realized his uncertainty.
He worried that she seemed so unconcerned. “Alright. But once we start, we’re gonna finish. If you tap out before your punishment’s through, then I’m still bringing you to the cops. There’ll be no half measures here. I’m not gonna force you into anything but I’m not gonna let you off either, got it?”
Peyton nodded, casually. “Well, let’s go, chop chop, I’ve got places to be today.” She insisted. “Alright.” Julian shrugged. This might be kind of fun, he thought in the back of his mind as he studied her bottom bulging in her tight jeans. Though he forced himself to shut it down as he reminded himself he was supposed to play a fatherly role here.
He considered where to go. He couldn’t go to his house. He was widowed now, but even still, it wouldn’t be possible to convince the girl his intentions were pure if he went there.
He couldn’t go to a parking lot either. Too many people walking past, impossible for either of them to focus, and too much of a chance some Samaritan might try and intervene. He could rent a hotel room, but, again, too overtly sexual an overtone. And he was already losing enough money on this day.
Then he remembered. Whenever he’d needed to correct one of his own kids on a long car trip, he’d pull off to a weigh station or a scenic overlook. No one ever stopped at those in the middle of the day, and all things considered, they were private enough.
Meanwhile, Peyton was beginning to question her decision. She had begun to google “What does it feel like to be spanked,” and she was not liking the results. Julian saw her frantically typing something in the mirror, and worried she was concocting some elaborate story to have him thrown in jail. He knew he was extending an olive branch, but he wouldn’t put it past her to turn around and snap it.
“I’ll take that.” He said, motioning towards her. “No phone until after.” “But why n—“ She began to contest. He raised an eyebrow, “We just passed a sub station back there, if you’d rather I—“ she placed it in his hand.
As he continued on, looking for a suitable pull off, Peyton’s mind raced. Whenever Julian wasn’t looking, she’d reach back and gingerly feel her backside, wondering what sensations it would be experiencing. In one sense, she dreaded it, in another, it was almost a relief to have had a boundary drawn for the first time in her life.
Even after her parents had cut off her cards, they’d still occasionally send a lump sum now and again. She’d just blow through it too quickly for it to matter.
Julian was grappling with his own questions. Should he lecture her first? Should he really take her pants down? Was he crazy for making this offer in the first place? Was it too late to parent the child inside this girl? Guess he’d find out.
“Is… is it going to, like, hurt?” She asked, bringing her hand to her behind again. “Uh… yah. That’s the entire point.” Julian replied. “Like, how bad?” Peyton asked. It dawned on Julian then that this girl had gone her entire childhood without a single spanking. That explained a lot. “You tried to steal from a stranger. You’re failing at school from the sounds of it. You’re bullying your classmates. So, pretty bad.”
He pulled up to a scenic lookout that had the view of a sprawling red rock canyon against a solid blue sky. Not one cloud, and more importantly, not one other car, in sight.
He backed into the spot and popped his trunk so he could sit on the edge. “Alright. Peyton, right?” “Yah.” She replied. Her stomach quivered in anticipation. She studied the man’s face. His square jaw and unflinching eyes did not look as though they were strangers to discipline. The dark tan of his skin wasn’t as intimidating to her now that they were face to face.
His broad hand scratched his beard, introspectively. “Do you know why we’re here, why you’re being punished?” He asked, looking her dead in the eye, causing her to immediately look away. “So you don’t go to the cops.” She said, with a disdainful, almost haughty air to her tone. “No, Peyton. That’s not why.” He said, tapping his foot impatiently. “I guess, you know, because of all those reasons you said earlier.” She replied, slightly more sheepishly.
“Those reasons being?” He asked, talking to her as though she were eight rather than eighteen. “Plagiarism, bullying and…” she exhaled, frustrated at having been bested, “Stealing.” “Attempting to steal.” He corrected her. He was amused, almost aroused, from the anger the flashed behind her eyes at the exchange.
“But what are all those things you listed, Peyton?” She shrugged. “You answer in full sentences when you’re speaking to me.” Julian commanded in a deep voice. “I don’t know. Things that happened!” Peyton shot back.
“Things *you did.* Actions you committed. Choices you made.” Julian replied. “Do you think they were good choices or bad choices?” He asked. “I guess probably bad choices.” Peyton said, looking down. “Do you guess, or do you know?” Julian asked, dropping another half octave. “I guess I know.” “Peyton—“ He warned. “I know. I know they were bad choices.” She finally confessed. Almost seeming like she meant it.
“Tell me why.” He prodded. “I… I don’t know! Because they made me feel bad!” She said, at stamping her feet. Julian could sense she was sincere. He was so disappointed that her parents had screwed up such a promising person. She could’ve been so much farther in life if they’d just stepped up and done what he was about to do now a long time ago.
“They didn’t just make you feel bad. They made the other people involved feel bad. That’s why you feel bad. Or it should be why. You made choices that hurt people. And you should make it up to them by returning their money, giving them credit for their papers, apologizing to them in front of whoever you bullied them with, and in other circumstances I’d say leaving me a tip but I don’t think you’ll feel much like doing that when we’re through here. But that other stuff, with your friends, that’s not enough. You hurt them. You can’t undo that hurt. So you need to do what, in my religion, is called a penance. It’s like a punishment you elect to take. You’re not a kid, so you’re electing to take this punishment instead of being sent to the police where they decide your punishment. That’s the first step to being a mature adult.” Julian said, trying to build her back up a little bit to help the message sink in.
I really think afterwards, you’re going to see that this was the best thing for you and what you needed to start turning things around. But just in case you change your mind later, I need you to say on video that you’re consenting to this, you came here willingly, and all that. Ok? I won’t ever show it to anyone or anything except a lawyer if you try and ruin my life after I tried to stop you from ruining yours. Deal?
Peyton nodded. Julian pointed the phone at her and signaled a go. “My name is Peyton Allison and I consent to be spanked on the date of this video recording. I came to this location willingly because I deserved to be punished for… for my actions.” She let out a shaky breath.
“That was big of you.” Julian said. Shutting off the camera, thinking there was some hope for this girl, and she might learn her lesson fairly easy. “If you’re done seeing what power feels like for once in your life can we get this over with please?” Peyton griped, desperate to take control back over her own life, ironically decimating any chance she had of making things easy on herself.
“Whatever you say, princess.” Julian replied, sarcastically. “So, go ahead and bend over. We’ll get started. It’s over when I tell you it is. Any whining, asking me to slow up, I’m gonna ignore that. No breaks. You are not in charge here. You’re being punished, so you’re not in control. If I have to stop your spanking, that means we go to the cops. And that’s pretty much it. Any questions?” He asked, setting his knees up to receive her.
Peyton bit her bottom lip as she tried to wrap her mind around the situation once again. “Are you sure you have to do this? I could spank myself while you watch.” She reasoned. “As entertaining as that would be, it wouldn’t serve our purpose of you learning about authority and unpredictability of real world consequences.” Julian replied.
Who does this guy think he is, Peyton wondered as she studied the man’s hands. They seemed larger than they had when they were on the wheel. His arms seemed significantly bulkier too. “Now,” Julian motioned for her to bend over his knee, “In your words, I don’t have all day.”
“Well, wait!” Peyton protested. Maybe she changed her mind. Julian thought, with a twinge of disappointment. “What are you going to spank me with?” She asked, sounding younger and younger the less ego she was able to cling to. “My hand. And if you’re good, that’s all I’ll need to get the point across. But if you squirm and complain and you don’t accept your consequences, then I’ll use my wife’s hairbrush too.” “Ok.” She squeaked, twisting her heels in the dirt and tucking her hair behind her ears. “Don’t do it too hard…” She pleaded, as she cautiously approached. “I’ll do it however hard I have to.” He said, blankly.
She stopped just sort of his knee. “How long is this going to taaaaake?” She asked, with a high pitched whine. “Until you’ve learned your lesson.” Julian replied, sternly, guiding her over his knee. He figured ending the anticipating was the kindest thing he could do for her.
As he looked at her sprawled out there, he admired her pert ass straining against the sparse denim in her skinny jeans. Bent over for a spanking, the seams were comfortable everywhere but the curves of her cheeks, where there was so much excess flesh they looked as though they could pop open and burst at any second. Unfortunately, they’d never find out. He reached in her waistband and pulled her jeans to her knees.
He would’ve loved to relieve her of them entirely, but the tiny waistband would act as a convenient restraint to keep her from kicking. Not that he was too concerned with his own ability to do so if need be. Her pink high top sneakers didn’t even reach the ground in this position.
He observed her panties, refreshingly conservative for college girls of this era. He almost wished he could leave them up to spare them both the embarrassment of navigating the platonic, borderline parental, skin to skin contact near her genitals. But the exposure and humiliation were part of a spanking’s efficacy. He knew he’d be shortchanging her in the long term to make it easier on them in the short term.
He analyzed the panties as he pulled them down, to distract himself from what lay underneath. Still a size too tight, but they covered everything. A black lacy job that hugged the contours of her cheeks pretty nicely. Left much to the imagination. But not for long.
Peyton’s heart pounded as she felt her jeans lowered. Julian’s gruff hands were so close to… everything. This dirty driver, this older man, this stranger. She was completely vulnerable to him now. The anxiety of the situation went into overdrive as she felt his fingers reach for the top of her already indiscrete panties.
She threw her hand back. “What are you doing?” She contested. “I’m pulling your pants and underwear down to give you a spanking.” Julian replied, pragmatically. “Well don’t do that, that’s… that’s private!” Peyton sputtered. “You’re getting spanked on your *bare* butt, as in naked, that was the deal.” It was then that Peyton realized she hadn’t thought at all about what that meant. “You are a pervert. I knew it.” Peyton growled, struggling underneath him.
It took all of Julian’s willpower not to smack her then and there for levying such an accusation against him. “No, Peyton,”
He patiently explained, as her panties sat halfway down her ass. “That’s part of the punishment. You didn’t feel ashamed of your bad actions, so now you’ll have this to feel ashamed of. Besides, it hurts more without layers of protection to dull the slaps. And I can get a better sense of how close to done we are with skin to skin contact because if the palm of my hand hits your butt cheek, I experience more or less the same force. So think of it as getting some revenge on me, too. Otherwise I might think things are going easier for you than they are, and is that what you want? To be getting more licks than you have to?”
Peyton’s silence was her answer. Julian slid her panties down the rest of the way, to the middle of her thighs. He inspected his target. Plump, tan, and even more round over his knees than they’d appeared when bouncing in the middle of her frail frame, these bottom cheeks just begged to be spanked. The attitude attached to them only helped things along. Due to the nature of the position, Julian could also catch a glimpse of her pussy.
The first thing on Peyton’s mind was that since she’d run out of money, she’d been unable to schedule a wax, so had just begun to redevelop a bit of peach fuzz. The first thing on Julian’s mind was that he hoped she didn’t struggle, because she had no concept of how badly it would sting if he accidentally slapped her twat. He considered warning her, but decided some things one could only learn by trial and error.
Peyton tensed herself against the initial smack, unaware that the tighter she was the worse it would hurt. Julian raised his hand high above his head, promised himself not to give in no matter how much he found himself pitying, almost somewhat liking this girl, and landed the first spank right between her left and right cheeks, directly across her crack. He admired the bright red handprint that immediately surfaced.
Peyton had promised herself she wouldn’t make a sound, wouldn’t give this guy the satisfaction of breaking her, no matter how badly it hurt, but the shock of the first blow was so unexpected that she let out a guttural groan and clenched her cheeks together. From there, Julian fell into a rhythm. He landed a light smack followed by a harder one on alternating cheeks. Peyton could feel her butt turning from a pale cream to a powder pink as the stinging intensified.
He reached over to slap the sides of her ass and lower to coat her thighs in a thick layer of pink and red handprints. The ache penetrated deeper as the smacks built up over one another. She couldn’t help but squirm as all her other senses became drowned out by the all encompassing shock of the moment.
As he went to land a couple firm smacks across her lower thighs, she squirmed at the last second, causing him to lose his aim and spank her right across the exposed slit of her pussy. She squealed and recoiled at the sharp pain splitting across her delicate femininity. Julian pulled back immediately, not having anticipated touching her there, but was surprised to find the palm of his hand wet from the impact.
The first one had been a mistake. Next five were not. He couldn’t help but delight in the breathy gasp and clipped groan she’d allow to seep out each time his palm came into contact, even briefly.
He continued on her fleshy bottom for a few minutes more, alternating between light and hard smacks until she promised to be good, kicking her knees, twisting her hips, and begging him to finish as her backside illuminated in bright crimson regret.
He finally finished, with a final light pat on each cheek and between her sopping wet legs. She slowly stood up, avoiding eye contact, too overcome by the mixed emotions to do anything but stand there, speechless. The heat of her raw backside, the anger at her authoritarian, the humiliation for her actions, and above all, a strange sense of safety and security like she could never remember experiencing in such pure form before.
Julian just sat back and considered how quickly this haughty little princess had been humbled. There was not a hint of her earlier attitude. She seemed two feet shorter while simultaneously ten years more mature. Even as she stood there sniffling, half naked, bottom cheeks still as red as a cherries from an old fashioned over the knee spanking.
The gnawing ache on Peyton’s spanked bottom was beginning to give way to a tremendous pins and needles feeling, and she instinctively reached back to rub the edge off. “Ah, ah, ah. I don’t think so young lady.” Julian scolded, grabbing her wrists.
“If you dull the pain, I’m just gonna have to bend you over and start again.” Peyton glanced up at him with Bambi eyes, sincere this time, rather than the manipulative ones of earlier. “But… it still hurts.” She pleaded. Having half expecting her ass to instantly return to normal once she was no longer actively getting spanked.
“That’s the point darlin’.” Julian laughed, shocked that this part of her cluelessness wasn’t an act to garner sympathy. “Every time you sit down for a while now, you’re gonna remember what happens when you don’t act right. Now, listen.” He continued. “Your punishment isn’t over.”
Peyton’s heart skipped a beat. What could that mean? How could her butt hurt anymore than it did right now? Did he seriously not believe she was sorry?
“There aren’t any corners here, cause we’re outside. If there were I’d have you kneel in one of them to think about what you did. But we’ve got to work with what we’ve got. So instead, I want you to go by that tree there and grab your ankles like you were gonna be spanked again. Think about what you did, but more importantly, think about what you’re going to do. Because if you decide to start acting reckless again, that’s exactly how you might find yourself standing.”
“Over by that tree, there?” Peyton asked, incredulous. “Yep.” “But… but people might see me there!” She realized, as she observed the angle of the tree to the main road. “Well people see the out of control, self destructive things you do, right? So you’re kind of too late in terms of keeping these things to yourself.” He admonished. “Now go, or—“ She hurried off before he could finish he thought.
As she stood there, her adrenaline finally starting to drop a bit, she was captivated by a paradoxical burning in her pussy. Of shame and excitement in concert. She wanted nothing more than for this nightmare to be over, but part of her hoped this dream never ended.
Eventually though, long after she’d lost track of time, Julian called her back over. He had stopped counting the minutes as well, as he inspected his handiwork, admiring her submissive curves and soundly disciplined labia from a new angle.
They did not exchange anymore words as she unceremoniously redressed and they pulled back onto the road. Julian considered a new option for his parting words, but ultimately decided he had let his hands do the talking for him as he watched her shift uncomfortably in her seat.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/hvol55/uber_driver_spanks_bratty_tip_thief_mf