Ritual Abuse as Mind Control – Wendy Hoffman
Ritual Abuse as Mind Control – Wendy Hoffman
© Wendy Hoffman 2026 All rights reserved.
Please use caution while reading this information. It may be triggering for survivors. All accusations are alleged.
Rituals are common practice in satanic culture. This presentation explores how every moment of a ritual is used for mind control. Its purpose is to capture the minds of its victims and enforce its programs. Traumatic emotions are also an important part of mind control, and they will be discussed.
Wendy Hoffman has published four memoirs, three books of poetry and a co-authored book of essays. She does consultations for therapists working in the field of dissociative disorders and presentations on mind control internationally. https://ritualabuse.us/smart/wendy-hoffman/
This presentation is triggering.
A child’s night and morning: a story
This child was asleep, drugged. Blankets were rolled between her legs. She clutched a pillow in one hand and a worn gray teddy bear in the other. They help her not be sucked into the terror of her dreams. It was 11:00 p.m., and she had fallen asleep around 7:30 p.m. on a warm June night. The apartment the Brown family lived in was small and crowded, though they had money in the bank. Mr. Brown was a businessman. Mrs. Brown wore lavish jewels. Mr. Brown gambled.
Hands shook the six year old Susan. Her mother’s arm wrapped around her waist. “Get up. It’s time to go.” Her mother had put a dress and socks on Susan before she fell asleep. Now the mother quickly brushed her daughter’s blond curly hair, handed her a glass of milk and cookie. The milk had another kind of drug in it.
Outside it was more like a spring day than a summer night. The parents decided to walk instead of drive the twenty minute walk from their apartment to the outside of town, where the wealthy lived. The child both didn’t know where she was going and did know where she was being taken. Her body knew. The middle of her tongue stung as panic seized her. A large hand pressed down on the top of her head. They made a sharp left turn behind one of the mansions and followed a curving path behind someone’s wooded grove. A circular courtyard showed behind the woods. No grass grew there. Pebbles which hurt bare feet covered the ground.
Her heart raced. Every week, no matter what, she felt terror. The piercing smell of incense burned her nostrils. It smelled worse, she thought, than the smell of her father’s Camel cigarettes and her friend Cynthia’s father’s cigars.
Many people already arrived, deposited their clothes in bins and dressed in black hooded robes. She saw her two grandfathers, three aunts and uncles, cousins, neighbors, the doctor, principal, fifth grade and music teachers, the dentist, some classmates and many strangers. She recognized some dogs. She watched closely for her best friend to arrive. Someone dressed in an animal costume with a long furry tail slapped her cheek. “Stop watching,” he said. “You’re not allowed to recognize. It you don’t stop looking, I’ll put drops in your eyes and you won’t be able to see anything.” Susan thought that was her father, but she couldn’t be sure.
A tall thin man, maybe her uncle, helped light a circle of 450 white candles. Usually they were black, but red on Christmas and Easter. Every little thing meant something, but she didn’t know what white meant. The prayer team chanted. A woman pulled Susan’s dress off and slipped her into a child’s black robe. Black smoke descended from the sky. “Hail Satan,” everyone cried with their hands up. Some sank onto their knees in an ecstasy of praise. “Lord and Master. Giver of Life. The only one true God. Ruler of the Universe. Soon You will have Your rightful place.” A gong rang. The ritual had officially commenced, Thursday, midnight.
Adults carried children on their shoulders, swung them to the east, west, north, south. Someone suddenly released a spinning child. “Come, demons, come. Smolder the face of the earth. Tarnish God’s world,” they chanted. The men peed to the sky in unison. “Praise be to Satan, the one and only God who rules the universe,” they sang out in a stampede of words. They let out more snakes from cages and threw children back and forth over snakes. A man pretended to drop a child, dangling him from his legs with his head inches away from the snakes. Two children yelled so loudly, they were removed, injected and shoved in cages. Will they be sacrificed, Susan wondered. Will I be killed? She could barely see from the density of darkness. She knew the sacrifice was coming.
Men had their penises in women. Men had their penises in men. It looked like they were dancing bent over one another in raptures, making wild noises. Susan spotted her mother. At home, her mother was always in bed asleep with the door closed. Now she was wild, going from one man to another as she sang praises to Satan, bent backwards over herself, her hair free and loose. At home, she always had a bad back and couldn’t move. Why was Mother only happy during rituals? Why didn’t she have her headaches now? Maybe from midnight to three was always her good time of day? Susan thought.
More and more black air arrived as children lay on blankets. “You will remember nothing” was chanted at them. “This isn’t happening.” Snakes crawled over the children’s tortured bodies. The altar was prepared. A naked woman lay on it. A man decorated her body with curvilinear designs in red, green, yellow, blue and black. One of the larger men placed a crying little boy on top of the woman. He didn’t fight back. He wouldn’t cry if he hadn’t already given up. He looked already dead. Have I given up? Susan asked herself. A circle of the smallest children surrounded the altar. Adults had their fingers in the children’s vaginas and on their penises. In a flash like the breath of pollution, the sky turned pinkish red. “He’s arrived,” everyone screamed kneeling with their heads to the earth. “Praise be the Lord,” they sang in unison and awe.
Rough hands yanked Susan out if the circle of children onto the altar. Some one stretched out her small hands. “In the name of Satan, I purify these hands to do His will and purify the earth from Jesus’ slander.” Stunned, shocked, Susan thought it will be she who’s killed now. A huge man slipped a sword between her slight hands, wrapped his own hands in black gloves around hers and the weapon, lifted the child’s arms. The man with his penis in the woman moaned, trembled and shouted as the sword entered the still child’s tender heart. The executioner pushed Susan aside, and another human amputated the dead boy’s heart, poured its blood into a goblet. He forced a sip into Susan. She vomited. The goblet was passed around to all the participants and pieces of the dead child’s body. The mood became electric, excited, its frenzy rising.
The Master of Ceremonies called out for curse complaints in Satan’s name. Many shouted curses, one after another, while swaying their arms, gesturing wildly. The Grand Wizard echoed, “May this man’s neighbor be stricken with warts,” “May that man’s subcontractor go bankrupt,” “May that woman’s child be hit by a car.”
Children were made to sit in a circle shoulder to shoulder. A tall vicious looking man, master of ceremonies, stood in the center of the circle with a person dressed like satan with horns and tail. “Children, you will never remember any of this. You have been in bed dreaming this whole time. You dreamed this. It did not happen. It never happened. If you ever remember anything, we will kill your whole family. You have good parents. You don’t want that to happen to them because of you.”
The clean up crew disposed of the ritual’s remains. The coven deposited their robes, retrieved their street clothes and scattered quietly. Susan’s father put her dress and shoes on and slipped her into the stroller. Her body was limp with exhaustion and horror. The family walked home fast at 3 a.m. In bed, Susan’s body couldn’t relax, her tension built. Her mother injected her, but every time Susan almost slept, she saw the stone face of the boy. He was such a pretty boy. She tried to remember his name. Maybe she should give up too. “It never happened. It’s a dream. Those who remember die,” her controllers ordered.
Even in her drugged state, she dreaded and waited. A few hours later, her father came into her bedroom. Mother must be asleep now, she thought. He turned her on her side and thrust his penis into her clenched rectum. “Ahhhh,” he said. She gripped teddy tighter and begged, “Daddy, don’t, please. I’ll do whatever you want tomorrow, but not now, please.” “Shut up, you slut, you tease. You know you asked for it.” His contorted face switched back and forth from a sneer to glee. He finished fast and hurried back to his own bed before his drugged wife woke.
Her mother entered her room at 7:30 a.m. “Wake up, sleepy head. It’s time for school,” she said in a cheery tone. She dressed her daughter in a freshly ironed plaid dress with a lace collar and big bow and fixed her hair gently. She poured milk on her cornflakes, but they became too soggy. Susan was already at her desk when the school bell rang. She opened her small hands and stared at them in at a trance. Her head swam as what happened to her faded away into a dull, rhythmic drone repeating “It never happened, you will not remember, if you ever remember, you will be killed.”
The school bell rang again and brought her out of her unconscious. It seemed to her that only five or ten minutes passed but it was lunchtime. She unwrapped the peanut butter and jelly sandwich sliced diagonally and the whole peeled carrot, which scared her. She blushed. She couldn’t eat. Her mother worked so hard making these lunches and she wasn’t being cooperative or appreciative. I’m so selfish and ungrateful, she thought. I must be a very bad and evil person.
The meanings of events in the story.
Rituals are like a grand social event.
Participants look forward to seeing friends.
Until they remember.
Then they are shocked.
Rituals as mind control.
Survivors often complain of being lonely and isolated, but also surrounded by cult plants.
Plants works solely for the cult.
If you are a cult figure—parent, any kind of relative, leader-type person, therapist, doctor, accountant, dentist, neighbor, friend, best friend, landlord, any disguised person—nearly every word out of their mouths will be a programming trigger or cue.
In the story, the parents wanted to walk, but they didn’t remember that the leaders of the cult wanted them to walk. They didn’t like cars to be piled up at ritual sites.
Orgies:
Make people feel guilty in retrospect.
How could I have sex with so many people?
Marriages:
Marriages in cult are not meant to be wholesome.
A female drugged to be oversexed may be married to a pedophile.
Rituals may be her only sexual release.
Or a male brought up to fear women and has early ejaculations.
He rapes children during rituals.
Or they make males oversexed by drugs and marry him to a frigid woman, whom they have also created. He will particularly enjoy the orgies.
But after it’s over, there’s shame.
Lowered self esteem is needed to fasten mind control.
That explains the cult’s need for victims’ lowered self-esteem.
People with sexual deviations are often stirred by rituals.
So after the ritual, some commit incest to relieve themselves of pressure.
Sometimes an irate spouse blames the child-victim.
The conscious part of the child will blame himself or herself.
The unconscious part(s) of the victim will know the truth.
Rituals often take place in wealthy and beautiful parts of town and at midnight or later.
Sacrifices:
Enormous energy created because they occur in part at moments of orgasm.
Then the realization of what you saw and passively participated in hits.
Participants have been silent witnesses.
There is the feeling of being a murderer.
Children are used—with an adult’s hands over their hands.
Decorating the body’s skin:
With satanic symbols.
They are used as part of the altars and sexually.
Those victims feel their whole body is contaminated.
Lowered self esteem is necessary for mind control to take hold.
Satan:
His appearance is make believe.
They use visual tricks like the sky changing color and costumes.
Commands:
Don’t remember.
The head pressed down is one way to communicate not to remember.
The slap across the face is another.
The spinning at the end creates confusion and dizziness.
It is a command not to remember what just occurred and pushes the memory into the unconscious.
Threats:
They command that you don’t see other people at rituals.
And don’t recognize them.
Or you will be killed.
Witchcraft: (not in story)
Adjacent and to the side of where the curses were being thrown is a circle of trained witches.
Some witches may still be in training.
These witches catch the curses thrown at the targets or victims in a large net.
They look in the sky for an opening, which can be no wider than a needle.
They gather the energies of the curses.
There may be other witches in other places, states or countries and continents.
The international witches join them psychically in the cursing.
This is a synchronized and organized effort.
Many or most people may not believe witchcraft exists.
Others think it’s the most potent weapon the cult has and uses.
No big event or curse takes place without witchcraft being involved.
White Witches:
Some survivors become white witches.
Many members don’t like being evil and want to do good in the world.
They transform black witchcraft into white witchcraft.
For example, they station themselves at intersections and try to prevent car accidents
and pedestrian accidents.
Sections of the brain:
Each section and a representation in your brain practice its own witchcraft.
The Nazi section uses it for destruction.
It targets the earth, planets, humans.
Luciferian and Masonic sections use it as an aide for their extensive sacrificing.
They also put on shows to impress people.
The Illuminati section, which goes by different secretive names, uses it against foes
and likes to terrorize or injure its disobedient members.
Structures are 3 dimensional.
They are layered, one on top of other or adjacent, and touch or go deep into the heart.
They are in part who you are whether oblivious to your abuse, in your front or surface personalities or conscious of the past and who you became.
These structures are always sending out impulses to keep you feeling bad about yourselves.
To negate impulses, renounce the cult’s destructiveness.
And choose peace.
Two main ingredients of this mind control are:
1. Make victims feel guilty and ashamed.
The shame belongs to perpetrators, not to you. Who made you do whatever you did?
2. Threats that you will be killed or your family will be killed.