I've shared on here before, but my brother and I were sexually and physically assaulted by this very masculine lesbian who was babysitting us when I was 5-6 and he was 8-9.
I don't have all of the memories, but I do remember her having us both in the bath, and then she would "help us get clean" by soaping up and tugging on our peckers. Sometimes she would also have us do this to one another.
After the baths she would take off her bottoms (and ONLY her bottoms) and lay on the bed. She would make me get between her legs and grind against her pussy , which she called "drying me off".
Then she would literally whip us both with a belt before sending us to bed, and tell us that we were bad, and she wouldn't tell on us if we didn't tell on her. I remember one night I was laying in bed and I saw my kitty Frankie in the hallway. I tiptoes into the hall and got him, but she saw me. She stormed into the room and threw Frankie against the wall, and started whipping me with the belt. She then started whipping my brother for nor telling on me.
Obviously we were too afraid to say anything to my parents, so my mom didn't know anything until I was like 20, and started getting clearer memories back. I mean, there were signs though. My weight ballooned between kindergarten and 1st grade. I became very quiet and withdrawn, so my teachers thought that I might be retarded or something (autism was never really discussed then. You were either normal or a tard).
I hated taking baths and would often refuse to do so. My mom and dad would have to spank me to get me to do it.
She wouldn't let us use the bathroom for whatever reason, so we would have to hold it. My mom would come home from work to find that I had shit my pants, and of course she was furious.
Most disturbingly, I became a chronic masturbator, but in an odd way. I would ball up my fist and lay it against my crotch, then writhe against it while laying on my stomach. And I would do it at odd times - we could all be watching TV in the living room, with me on the floor, and I would start grinding against my fist. Or we could be driving in the car, and if I had the backseat to myself, I would lay on my stomach and start fucking my fist. Naturally, this would lead to more spankings. I kinda find it odd that my parents never thought to question where a kid my age learned something like that.
This coupled with my parents moving every year / two years kinda fucked up my adolescence lol. But every kid has a fucked up adolescence. I am thankful for the little things - for the most part, I have made my peace with my past, and more than anything I am so thankful to God that I didn't repeat the cycle, as often happens with child sexual abuse. I really do thank God for that. I could have ended up a sexual degenerate / SFWA member / gay or something.