The rubber paddle with bumps is an insanely mean thing. I couldn't really spare 30 dollars for it but I did anyways.
It's the "Fetish Fantasy Series Rubber Paddle" from Pipedream. It's all a firm, supple rubber, about ten inches long. On one side, it has groups of three small, high bumps or spikes. On the other side it has large, lower oval bumps. This pattern is repeated on the two edges of the paddle; one has the groups of three tall bumps, the other has larger oval bumps.
The side with oval bumps is already brutal. It has the combination of weight and semi-flexibility that lets it really sting, smart and mildly thump like a belt. One could comprehensively ruin a bottom just with this side.
The side with the small spikes is absolutely nightmarish. It doesn't really slap, it thumps HARD and that force is concentrated by the spikes into small areas. The other side can turn you red, but the side with the spikes wants to make deep bruises, and could readily be used to do actual damage to someone's tissue. The thought of using the EDGE with the spikes is almost unthinkable.
The count I chose was twenty-five with the spikes and then ten with the other side, repeated twice on each cheek, for a fairly severe punishment of 240 strokes. And this was without a doubt one of the most severe punishments I've ever received and the most severe I've ever self-administered. The spikes roughed up the flesh the flesh like a meat tenderizer, and then the flatter side smarted severely on the fresh bruises. It was agonizing. Now it's two hours later and I'm still feeling this punishment, now less as warmth and more as knots of bruised flesh aching under my weight. As I began to write this I gave the outside of my left thigh a single concerted swat with the less harsh side, and it's still smarting so badly that it's hypersensitive to the cold air in the room.
And I love it. This is the first spanking implement I've owned that quite captures the feeling that the wooden spoons and spatulas gave me when I was a child (a child who was paddled like four times, for the record), the nauseous revulsion and secret fascination. I look at it and my heart drops, a thing only a sick mind could have designed, something I both revile and long for. It would look properly menacing hanging up in the kitchen as a warning, enough to make you clench your ass and shudder that a person could be cruel enough to use it on you when you see it... but mixed with the thrill of wanting it to happen.
What a difference thirteen dollars makes, huh?