About Breeders in Satanic Cults: Part 2

There has been a lot of interest in this topic among our readers, so much so that I would like to collect personal accounts for an anthology.

I can do the editing and set up, but I need your help to let people know that a book is in the works. It would mean posting a notice on your blog, if you have one, and letting all your RA/MC contacts, therapists as well as survivors, know about the project. Ask them to spread the word. And, if this is in their background, ask them to consider writing something – an account of what happened and how it affected them, a rant, a poem, whatever moves them.

There are 300-plus people following my blog at this point, and if, say, half of them helped  out this way, I am sure it would come together quite quickly. And I would feel SOOOO supported!!

Tell the people you contact to get in touch with me at rahome@ra-info.org or use the comment section of this blog. And if you don’t get an answer, write a comment telling me that your email didn’t go through.


Here is another account of a survivor’s experience as a breeder. I thank Tracy with all my heart for her courage and generosity in sharing her horrific experiences.


Almost everything I write about on here is from a distance. I’m able to close off the emotions …. which I don’t think is a good thing. Let’s see how this memory goes.

I know I was brought into the cult for breeding purposes. They didn’t treat me any different. I still went thru all the horrors except when I was pregnant.

I got pregnant during mass rapes. They had me back up against the tree and one man after the other would rape me. Those bastards always wore their hoods on those days so I never saw their faces or eyes. Damned if I didn’t try to make them look me in the eye, but they were cowards. Satan would be amongst the group, usually the last man to rape me. With Satan being last, they figured his seed would be the one that impregnated me

Once a pregnancy was confirmed, I was given a Matron who would follow me everywhere. She would come to my home and make me drink “bull semen” to strengthen the hopefully male child.

I can visualize her in the grocery store, near my school, every where I went. She wore a long navy blue or dark skirt that went to her ankles. Underneath was a white scalloped edge slip, which was visible all the time. One time in the hospital, there was a book sale. I picked one up and there was a drawing of the exact dress my Matron wore. It flipped me out! Confirmation found haphazardly. I wasn’t making it up!

Once pregnant was a safe time for me. I was treated tenderly….. they wanted this child.  I hid my growing belly with loose tops and baggy dresses. They also taught me how to hunch over when I walked, so my belly wasn’t prominent.

We took trips, taking me out of school, once to Bermuda. I don’t have many recollections of what happened on those trips. I guess that will come in time.

On sacrificial days, when I was 7-8 months pregnant, the process was as follows.  I was put on a table, out in the clearing, and strapped down. My arms were spread out and strapped for the IVs.  Our family doctor was there and lots of Matrons stood around me. The rest of the cult were to my left, high with anticipation. They must have drugged me cos I don’t have body memories. At least not before the child was born.

One of my alters just said “forceps,” so I guess they used implements in getting the baby out.

My first child was female. I can hear her crying and they showed her to me, scolding me in angry tones. I never got to hold her.

My happy pregnant days were over. My girl baby was held by her foot, upside down. There was a gold chalice held under the baby as she dangled there, and they slit her throat. They caught all of her blood, which was later ingested. She was taken to Satan and he was raving mad. I was screamed at, useless piece of shit. Can’t recall everything that was said but the whole group joined in with condemnation.

I was made to drink her blood first, then the rest of the cult got some.

My second pregnancy and birth were the same. I gave birth to a female, which was really bad. I was chastised for being a stupid cunt that couldn’t give them the bastard child …. This baby was held by her feet and swung around, killing her by shaking her poor body this way and that. This baby girl was shoved in my face and I was forced to take a bite of her. She was cannibalized by myself and other members of the cult. It was disgusting. I feel nauseous now remembering. The members who got a bite were high, like the baby was hallucinagenic. I lay on the bed watching with no way of stopping this from happening. Their blood smeared smirks either yelled or praised me, confusing my mind if I was good or bad. When there was no more to the baby except bones, she was thrown into a large cauldron with other organs or bones of deceased children and animals. It was to make a potent drink to strengthen the breeders and the group. They cooked my baby.

There were probably other sacrificed babies, but I don’t know for sure.

The last pregnancy went beautifully, being treated special and not having to go thru most of the rituals. My alters are saying “forceps, bloody mess and knives.” They are saying “afterbirth.” which I guess made a mess when they took it out.

This child was the bastard child, a male, and it was what I was born to make. I was the best girl cos I accomplished it. Never getting to see my boy, they took him right away and went out the right path while the cult went crazy with dance, shouts and chanting.

Those were the three babies I remember. I have a feeling it happened more. I think I was nine for the first baby. Then it would start all over once my body was ready for another pregnancy. I believe hormones were given to me to develop early.

I went for a gyno check up years later and asked if they had a way of telling me how many children I had had. I thought maybe there would be a scar in the uterus where the baby lived for awhile. Doc told me no, there was no way. In my 50’s, after having an ablation done, he made a remark how badly my uterus was scarred.

I don’t know when these types of truths will come out, about how many babies I provided them. And I’ll never know if my son is walking the earth.

I’m depleted after writing this down. I’m also feeling very spacy. My hopes are that someone will get some clarity and know she is not crazy. There are a lot of breeders out there, it’s just a very difficult thing to believe …. and tell.

Blessing of Light and Love



Upcoming Holidays

3/20 Spring Equinox
3/24 Feast of the Beast/Bride of Satan
3/25 Palm Sunday
3/30 Good Friday/Death of Jesus Christ
3/31 Full Moon (Blue Moon)
4/1 Easter Sunday
4/1 April Fool’s Day
4/8 Day of the Masters
4/10 Full Moon
4/16 – 4/23 Grand Climax/Da Meur/ (Preparation for sacrifice in some Satanic sects}
4/30 Walpurgisnacht/May Eve
5/1 Beltane/May Day/ Labour Day in Europe
5/13 Mothers’ Day
5/28 Memorial Day
5/29 Full moon

Dates important to Neo-Nazi groups
1/30 Hitler named Chancellor of Germany
4/20 Hitler’s birthday (Note: Hitler was born on Easter, so Nazis celebrate his actual birthday, 4/20, and Easter of the current year. His alternate birthday is 4/1 this year.)
4/30 Anniversary of Hitler’s death
(Some groups also mark Candlemas, Beltane, Lamas, Halloween, solstices, equinoxes, and full moons.)

Never Good Enough

Upcoming Holidays

1/13 Satanic New Year
1/17 Feast of Fools/Old Twelfth Night/Satanic and demon revels
1/31 Full Moon (Blue Moon)
1/31 Total lunar eclipse

2/2 Candlemas/Imbolc
2/13 Shrove Tuesday/Mardi Gras
2/14 Ash Wednesday/Beginning of Lent
2/15 Partial solar eclipse
2/14 Valentine’s Day
2/25 Walpurgis Day
3/1 Full Moon
3/20 Spring Equinox
3/24 Feast of the Beast/Bride of Satan
3/30 Good Friday/Death of Jesus Christ
3/31 Full Moon (Blue Moon)

Dates important to Neo-Nazi groups
1/30 Hitler named Chancellor of Germany
(Some groups also mark Candlemas, Beltane, Lamas, Halloween, solstices, equinoxes, and full moons.)

It’s good to be back. I cannot believe I was away for so long! I missed you-all!! This is the longest I have been away from the blog since early 2013. Maybe this means I am less driven, more relaxed and better able to take care of myself?

Here’s a not very good picture that shows red rocks and me in a too-large but nice warm red jacket. I tried to crop it but got totally stuck. It was taken at Sedona, Arizona, a town near a ridge of mountains popular with psychics, monks, and mystics because there are many places where some people feel vortexes of energy. I didn’t, though, and did not explore their meaning because I was too busy drinking in the beauty all around me.

Never Good Enough

I thought of this topic while in Arizona, along with its evil twin, Never Bad Enough. I’ll save that for another time.

My mother wanted me to be perfect. Needless to say, I was a huge disappointment to her. She had been the “plain one,” born nine years after her beautiful and charming sister. I learned that her childhood nickname had been Piggy, which explained a lot. She wanted me to be everything she wasn’t and to have all the material things she hadn’t had. I understood this, and found it sad, but that didn’t stop me from taking it very personally.

I wasn’t pretty enough. My manners weren’t good enough. I wasn’t socially skilled enough. I wasn’t popular enough – as a matter of fact, I didn’t have any friends until sixth grade. And to make things worse, I became overweight when I was five and stayed that way until high school. The more I tried, the more I failed to live up to her expectations and the worse I felt about myself.

The cult also taught me that I was a failure, inferior to everybody else, hopelessly stupid. I suppose there are some cults that tell the kids that they are wonderful and are being hurt so that they will grow up to be brave and strong and able to save their country single-handedly or some such thing. But my cult taught the kids that they were being punished for failure, for not trying hard enough. They had displeased Satan and let down the whole cult. I can’t ever remember being told I did something well.

The cult teachings affected me far more than my mother’s. They seared my soul and they gave me the conviction that I was bad to the core. When I tried to do something good, I was far more evil than when I tried to do something bad. Attempts to help or protect animals or other children resulted in them being hurt even more than I was. I learned that my love and compassion were poisonous.

When I was grown and separated from the cult and my family, the ritual abuse ended but those beliefs stayed with me. Looking back, some were clearly delusional. My manners were just fine and I was slim and pretty and dressed well. (That wasn’t too hard in the ’60’s!) Others were self-fulfilling prophecies. If you don’t believe you have any friends, you will not notice that others like you and will overlook their attempts to befriend you. If you don’t believe you have good social skills, you will stammer and say dumb things and retreat into solitude.

And if you believe your love is poison…well, it is really hard to love anybody at all, including yourself. And when you are aware that you love somebody, it makes you a total panicky, anxious wreck.

It took remembering the cult experiences and seeing how they implanted those self-hating beliefs. And then it took years and years of working on myself to see how those beliefs play out in my current life. I couldn’t just throw a switch and see myself differently.

“Oh! I’m not a bad person! I am a good person who was horribly mistreated! Now I can get on with my life and love myself and be self-confident and live a full and satisfying life.” Nope, didn’t work that way.

I’d get something intellectually, but my emotions and behavior didn’t change much. I’d get something one day and it was gone the next. I would do something positive for myself or somebody else and be filled with fear and guilt. It took a lot of slow, discouraging work, day after day after day, to turn things around.

Am I good enough now? I was good enough to come this far, that’s clear. I am certain l will not become perfect any time soon. I never will live up to my mother’ standards, for she wanted to be an idealized her, and you can’t be another person. And I doubt if I can ever entirely shake off all that the cult taught be about myself and the world.

I hope I will become better as time goes on, but for now, I’m just fine, considering. And that is enough.

Update on Kim Noble, Activist Artist

I check the statistics for my blog every week or so to see which posts are popular and what key words have been used in searches. The number of people reading  “Kim Noble, Activist Artist” started to climb. At first, two or three people consistently read it each day and I thought maybe I should do an update if Kim was willing. But then something really weird happened – the numbers of views increased steadily to a high of 280 on 12/14. I wrote Kim and asked her if she knew what was going on.

Then I found out that things had gotten really wierd!

I don’t know how many of you are aware of the conspiracy claims about Pizzagate. Basically, some private email of John Podesta was hacked and leaked. (Podesta is the former chairman of Hillary Clinton’s presidential campaign and champion of declassifying many CIA documents, including those on UFO’s.) People started to claim that the e-mails contained secret codes relating to child sexual abuse. “Cheese pizza” was supposed to stand for “child pornography.” A summary of this confusing conspiracy theory can be found at https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pizzagate_conspiracy_theory

Comet Ping Pong pizzeria in Washington D.C. was accused of being the center of a child sex ring. The owner and employees were harassed and received dealing with trollsdeath threats both by phone and on-line. Other business in the neighborhood were also targeted.

Kim Noble believes that somebody found my blog post and shared it with the “Pizzagate” conspiracy people, saying that she had sold one of her paintings to the owner of Comet Ping Pong. She, too, started to get badly harassed. She told me that she got 90,000 hits on her paintings’ website in one day!!!  Luckily, things have calmed way down by now.

Kim says:

“It has been strange and in the beginning very frightening. I was told by my agent, therapist and friends not to respond. I sat watching for two days and thought no they are so wrong I need to respond. I then answered or commented on every comment. Now it is quiet and people have been very supportive, thanked me and said I should be a spokes person for Pizzagate, not that I would, but the turn around and support now is amazing. One person answered that they would of preferred to learn about abuse from my paintings rather than their babysitter. What else needs to be said?”

Talk about bravery! I think the world of Kim.

P.S. Remember that we can’t all be Kim, and that we shouldn’t try. We can try to be our true selves and put ourselves out in the world as much or as little as is right for us. By being our true, real selves, not what the perpetrators taught us we were, or tried to turn us into, we make the world a more genuine, more loving place.