My grandfather's razor strop. We called it "The Strap."
Mom & Dad had built it up as the ultimate punishment. Usually, all Dad would have to say was, "Go get The Strap," and the three of us would immediately fall into line. Occasionally, though, we pushed our luck too far, and earned a spanking with it.
Dad's spankings were hard enough to leave some red marks, but they didn't last long. Those spankings brought real tears. But Mom's spankings...well. We pretended our giggles were crying and faked tears so she wouldn't figure out that it didn't hurt a bit.
After Mom & Dad died, I took "The Strap." It's mine now...I'm keeping it.