I had been spanked before and I had been spanked after, but never as severely as the one I'm going to describe.
When I was 11 years old I got caught throwing eggs at cars when I hit an unmarked police car. The policeman took me home to explain things to my Dad. I could tell by the look on my Dad's face that I was in for it, but I couldn't have guessed how bad.
My Dad took me furiously by the arm and dragged me into the house. He sat down on one of the kitchen chairs, pulled my shorts and underwear down and put me over his knee.
It was a warm summer's afternoon, and he was wearing a tee-shirt, shorts and clamdiggers. So he reached down and took off one of his flip-flops, then held me tightly over his lap and said, "You're going to get the spanking of your life!"
Then he started paddling me with the flip flop, using his full arm, harder than he had ever spanked me before (plus in the past he always used just his hand). Also in the past whenever I started to cry the spanking would end. This time I was crying almost immediately--it hurt that much--but he kept swinging away, bringing down that sandal on my bottom again and again and again.
It seemed like it went on forever. When he finally finished spanking me I couldn't sit down comfortably, and felt it for days afterwards. He explained afterwards that it was so severe because I could have caused an accident that might have injured someone or worse and for that reason he wanted to make sure it was a spanking I'd never forget.