My Dear Beth Ch 05 The End

*****

Ch. 05

Beth reaps what she's sown.

*****

If you haven't read the previous chapters, this won't make a lot of sense.

If you have, there's every chance that it still won't make a lot of sense.

*****

Welcome back! When we last left our hero, he was just about to 'enjoy' another drugging by our resident

PsychoCat

, Beth.

They'd gone to breakfast in Seattle, again. Always Seattle. Aren't there any good places in Everett? Oh, well.

Let's rejoin our loving couple as return from breakfast in Seattle, shall we?

*****

Hi, everyone! This is Karen. I know, I

know

!

SUUURRPRIIIISSSSSE!

Well, I can't attach an MP3 recording, so just imagine a very long SURPRISE! You get the idea.

I've read what my guy and Beth have written. It took a while because I had to re-read several (most?) sections to understand what happened and to quench my disbelief.

To be frank, I am

more

than shocked! It's far worse than what I thought it'd be, and I'd already had very dark thoughts about what the

bitch

was doing. (please forgive me for the language, Jesus)

Oh, Lord! Beth has some serious mental problems. Understatement??

Now that I'm all caught up in my reading and started my own journal, I'm ready to continue this journal-from-hell and let you know what's happened in recent days that caused me to be writing a new journal in Beth's house, as the private eye and I await Beth's return. After that, I'll pick up from the time that I've completed those entries and then journal at various points as time moves forward.

I've never understood that. Why do people say that time moves forward? Unless you're an elementary particle, as far as we know, the arrow of time always moves forward, doesn't it? I've always wanted to talk with someone about this, but I keep forgetting. Maybe now that I've written it down, I'll remember. Till then...

I've started writing in this new journal. If their journal is ever turned in or discovered by accident, I don't want my scribblings to be included. I want my part to be hidden. You may well ask, since you're reading this, then how is my part hidden? The answer in due time. Please be patient.

As it turns out, my ex-lover (I call him Loverboy and BlueEyes here, so let's just leave it at that) called me from a restaurant where he'd just finished breakfast almost a week ago. He said that he was concerned that something was going on that he was out of control. He was sleeping for inordinate amounts of time and Beth's explanations didn't seem right. He felt like he had a drug hangover that morning, despite not taking any drugs.

He was also a bit alarmed at his girlfriend's weird statements around her wanting him to move in with her ASAP. It seemed, to him, that she was holding some kind of threat back.

He told me that he'd promised after he'd first hypnotized her, that she could hypnotize him, but that despite her best efforts, she'd kept failing. Suddenly, she'd quit trying, without an explanation, but that he hadn't pressed her for one. He was afraid that she'd succeeded but had, somehow, managed to hide that fact from him.

I told him that since I had to use Sodium Thiopental to get him to go to sleep, I doubted that she'd been able to do that. He listened but wasn't convinced. I thought about that and feared that if she had, indeed, been able to put him to sleep, that she'd exert some control over him. I knew from our sessions that I was able to exert some control, but I'd turned all of that off as soon as I found myself being the kind of person that I didn't like.

I'd quit putting him to sleep, but we'd started a relationship that continued for several years. Well, to be truthful, I did, now and then, put him to sleep when it helped him. He was very susceptible after the very first time that I'd hypnotized him, and these subsequent times were, literally, a snap. I still reminisce about my snapping my fingers and watching him succumb to me. That was very seductive and one of the main reasons I (mostly) stopped. It was addictive and could be abused. Can you imagine having someone at your beck and call by, literally, snapping your fingers? I'm getting wet just thinking about that. (

Jesus, please forgive my prurient thoughts

)

I figured that I could, with time, totally control him - but I never tried because I'm not that kind of person -- I hoped. Why had I ever had that thought about controlling him? That's just not me.

So, there he was, calling me about possibly being put to sleep and being scared that this was the case. I asked if he wanted to find out for sure and he said he did. I asked if I could put him to sleep and he agreed, so I snapped my fingers into the receiver and it was done.

I asked a few questions and became super alarmed. My word! I woke him up, asked for Beth's address, and told him that the cavalry was on the way. He became very upset that I'd found that his fears were justified! He wanted to run, but I told him that he probably wouldn't get ten feet before she stopped him. I wasn't sure that she actually could, but if she could, what then?

A few minutes had gone by, so I told him to hang up and act as if nothing was wrong. Rescue would be there within days. He was very

not

happy about the timeframe, but I couldn't do anything about that. I told him that I was going to put him to sleep and didn't give him time to answer before snapping my fingers. I calmed him, told him that he'd never made a phone call to me and that he'd wake, feeling just great, looking forward to rejoining Beth the moment that he hung the phone up.

I immediately called some of his friends and some of my friends. Between those two sets of friends, I was only able to suss out one who could devote the time and resources that I needed. Wouldn't you know it? He was a fellow hypnotist and also happened to be a psychiatrist. He understood what might be possible with Loverboy.

He took a couple of days to see clients that'd been in crisis and got them into voluntary commitment. He then made one entire day available to me as soon as he could. He gathered up the pharmaceuticals he thought I might need, either from his office or bought from a pharmacy, and we got on a plane.

I'd talked with the shrink, a lot, in the days before the flight. I told him what I wanted to do, but he didn't want to be part of it. He thought that it would be unethical - and illegal - for him to be present. After some discussion, he agreed to help me as long as he didn't have to leave SeaTac.

He wrestled with the fact that even helping me at all was illegal and unethical, but he knew that I'd never rat him out and the situation was, in his view, more than dire. He had to travel with the drugs to be able to get them through security so that I wouldn't end up in prison and our friend wouldn't end up a slave if I was caught by the TSA.

We arrived at SeaTac without incident. We got to my rental car and he opened his briefcase and took out the vials, one after the other. The floor was soon covered with parts of labels that contained lot numbers, etc. Anything that could be traced to the pharmacies where he'd bought them.

He wiped each vial with the bleach wipes that I'd brought in one of my bags to remove fingerprints and DNA. I put the vials in a pouch that I later secreted in the trunk. I didn't want some nosy cop stopping me for a traffic violation and finding them without going to a lot of trouble.

Thankfully, he had enough drugs on hand so that his purchases to fill out our requirements wouldn't set off any alarm bells. After he was done peeling the labels and wiping down the vials, he told me to make sure to dispose of all of the labelings in such a way that they couldn't be discovered and reassembled.

I stopped at a rest area off of the highway going to Everett and burned them all.

He went back to the airport to await his flight while I continued to my hotel room.

I'd hired a private eye (PI) of questionable morals, through a friend, the day after my phone call with Loverboy. I gave the PI cash for his plane ticket and ten thousand as a down payment and miscellaneous expenses. He flew into SeaTac that night, picked up the van that he'd rented online (thank you, Hertz!) and went to a room that he'd reserved, online, in the same hotel where I'd made my reservation.

After he dumped his stuff in the room, he set up on Beth's house, watching through the curtains behind the front seats. I'd never been involved in any kind of cloak-and-dagger, but my concern for Loverboy drove out any anxiety. I was ready to risk prison to save him.

*****

Days later, I was at the hotel. I'd no sooner gotten to my room when the PI called my cell and said that they'd just left. I'd made sure that the hotel wasn't far from Beth's, so I was there in minutes.

The PI was also a close protection agent (bodyguard) and that gave me great comfort as he picked the lock. In case he was discovered by a neighbor or Beth, he could fight his way out and we'd regroup and come up with another plan.

After the door was open, I got out of my car and joined him to go inside and wait for Beth and her puppet, my BlueEyes. My wonderful, dear, subjugated BlueEyes!

As soon as I was inside, I looked through the rooms and was shocked by the scene in the bedroom! What had he gotten himself into? It looked like something out of the play, "Marat/Sade." I didn't waste any time examining the self-explanatory equipment. But, sheesh! I did stop, fairly often, to ask our Lord for protection for BlueEyes.

I looked through the bedside table drawers and was dumbfounded at the number of unused syringes, some of them full of drugs. I was more dumbfounded at how many were in a wastebasket. Wowza! Even if she'd taken half, that was still an amazing number of syringes!

I looked through her vials and was yet more alarmed if that was possible! Sure, I'd read her journal, but the reality hit me hard. Sodium Thiopental, Valium and Ketamine. Ketamine?? Mother Mary! I looked through several baggies and was sure they contained blotter LSD (Mickey Mouse imprints) and Ecstasy tablets (wasn't sure what was embossed on them.)

Soaking the strips of LSD in sterile water for several hours and then taking the water up in a syringe was how she was getting the LSD into a vein, I was sure. She wasn't Timothy Leary, with a stock of liquid LSD hanging around, but this was the next best thing.

Satisfied that I'd found most, if not all, of her pharmacy, I went to the back room. In a drawer of the desk, I found a 3"x3" Ziplock bag that contained what smelled like methamphetamine.

There was also a large Ziplock bag that contained a Russian doll of Ziplocks. 4 in total, with a 3"x"3 bag being the smallest. What was this woman seemingly protecting herself from? It slowly dawned on me that this could only be the Fentanyl that she so lovingly wrote about. Holy moly! I wasn't going to open it as even a slight whiff could kill me. How did she manage to not die?

This woman had a pharmacy from hell here.

A two-ounce bottle in another drawer had "SCO" written on it. I chanced smelling it and it was almost assuredly an extract from the Nightshade family. If I were to hazard a guess, it was Scopolamine because any of the other extracts are even more deadly. The fact that 'SCO' was written on it, of course, only confirmed my guess. Recalling what she'd written in her journal cemented it.

Who

was

this person and how did she come to acquire this? I'd used Scopolamine in experiments with rats in college and they didn't fare all that well. Had she used it on my guy, despite her journal not mentioning that she ever had?

I wasn't a murderer, but I can't swear that the thought didn't cross my mind at that moment. However, it was just a passing thought. Still, who wouldn't want to murder someone who had gained control of an ex-lover, possibly used Scopolamine on him, and seemed ready to end him if the mood struck her?

I asked the Lord's forgiveness for considering, even for an instant, killing Beth. I stopped as I asked and I felt Grace come over me. Thank you, Jesus.

Well, darn me! The thought crossed my mind, again! I had to stop and ask forgiveness - again.

A free-standing clothes cabinet in that room contained quite a few bags of Ringer's Solution, several dozen Butterfly Infusion kits (I.V. thingies), boxes of alcohol preps and more syringes still in their packaging, There was a box of fifty 23 gauge needles, several tourniquets, more vials of drugs and a large vial of a drug that I hadn't previously seen - Propofol. Shit! Pardon my language, but shit! I asked the Lord for forgiveness for my use of profanity; I was sure that He understood.

In this situation, Propofol would only be used one way; termination of life. Who

was

this person??

I had never, in my life, ever imagined that someone who wasn't a doctor and didn't, on the surface, live a druggie lifestyle, would or could accumulate what I'd found. Check that; a doctor wouldn't ever have this array of drugs.

How long did it take her to acquire the knowledge to dose Loverboy without killing him? Well, he'd told me that she was a rocket-science-level smarty, so I guess it was possible. The Good Lord had blessed him with 165+ IQ, so I don't see how he could be with anyone appreciably less (or more) smarts. MENSA says that more than 15 points IQ difference, either way, renders a relationship pretty much impossible or leads to one person dominating the other as a controller, not a lover.

Could it be that she's 180+? I'd heard of them but never met one. Well, I didn't think that this was a subject that I'd be discussing with her.

My mind was reeling from what I'd found and how Loverboy came to be dominated by such an evil woman. I considered that I might've missed other things, but this wasn't a search to uncover everything. It was just a cursory search to find anything that was readily accessible that she might've used on, or could use on, my Loverboy.

I went over to several boxes by the desk and started opening them. First, I found a Baxter Infusion Pump.

WHAT

? How long was she planning on keeping him a prisoner in the bed? Well, looking in the other boxes gave me a hint. Foley catheters. 20-milliliter syringes with no needles that could be used to blow up the balloon on the cath inside the bladder to hold it in. Catch bags for the catheter. Fuckin Hell! (Pardon my language, God. I ask forgiveness, in Jesus' name.)

Now, there was no doubt that his life was on the line and that Beth was a murderer just waiting for the right event to push her over the line. She could kill with just a push on a plunger - maybe even just a word.

Well, not on my watch nor anyone else's. If I called the cops, she'd be arrested, tried, convicted, and do some time. Not life, sadly, since she hadn't killed anyone. The drugs weren't in large enough quantities to get a life sentence, either.

It might be in five or fifty years, but I was sure that she'd go after him - and me - and most likely kill for her 'unjust' imprisonment.

What was she wanting with my ex-lover? Well, check that. If I was going to capture someone as a full-time slave and lover, it would've been him. That man could make love to my body and my soul at the same time! My mental and physical orgasms always came first for him. He never degraded me and always treated me as an equal in every way. Hm... He and I were going to have a serious talk at the end of this as I was reconsidering our split several years ago.

It was so sexy to be rescuing this beautiful, strong, successful hunk of a man!

What? My panties are wet! When did that happen? I wanted to stop and masturbate right then and there. I was considering doing just that when the PI called out and alerted me to an approaching car. I quickly asked God's forgiveness for impure thoughts as I ran to the livingroom.

I got there as a car pulled into the driveway. The garage door went up, the car went in and the door came down. A few moments later, the happy couple came out of the side door of the garage.

My heart was pounding so hard that I was sure that Beth was going to hear it! The PI told me to go to the kitchen, as planned, and wait. I was glad because I was sure that I was going to faint if I was in the room when Beth came in and was surprised by the PI! If I had pearls on, I'd be clutching them hard enough to turn them into diamonds.

I heard the door open. The PI yelled, "NOW!"

Beth screamed like she was being stabbed.

BlueEyes was just rounding on the PI as I rushed into the room, yelling, "BlueEyes, it's

ME

!"

The PI had grabbed Beth and put her in front of him so that she shielded him from immediate assault, thus giving me time to stop BlueEyes in his tracks. When BlueEyes looked at me, I snapped my fingers and he froze. Beth stopped screaming for just a second as her eyes went wide at what she was seeing happen to her slave.

She'd been so surprised by the PI that she hadn't had time to put her slave to sleep or, if she was able, commanding him to do any particular thing. I'm sure that she thought the PI was just an intruder. She didn't see me until just a fraction of a second before I snapped my fingers.

I can only imagine what she felt when she saw him suddenly, and most assuredly, being wrested from her control. Now, alarmed by what she saw, her flailing and screaming suddenly restarted, breaking the very short calm like a gunshot. She more than redoubled her effort but to no avail.

Beth tried to bite the PI as he shoved a rag into her mouth so that she couldn't try to put my BlueEyes to sleep and maybe have him hurt me and the PI. I had no idea if she could, but I wasn't going to take a chance. She tried to dig the heels of her fashionable flats (Seattle, right?) into his shins but the PI didn't seem to notice. She tried to bring her foot up into his crotch, but he caught her foot between his legs and kept it there. He then hoisted her completely off the ground to deny her any purchase that she could leverage.

She was failing her one free leg and letting out a fearful, muffled scream from around the rag.

In the meantime, I'd rushed over, spoken a word to subjugate BlueEyes to my will just in case Beth got free, then woke BlueEyes up. I hoped the word would hold when he realized what was happening. I directed him to the raging ragdoll that Beth had become and told him to help control her. He looked at me then at Beth and he leaped into the fray, shutting down the Weed Whacker that Beth's one leg had turned into.

I took several straps out of my purse and used one to bind her feet. Another strap tied her wrists together in front of her. The PI held onto her and sat down, holding Beth, firmly, in front of him. I used another strap to tie her wrists to the strap around her feet. He then made sure to pull back hard enough to ensure that she couldn't reach her feet. This also guaranteed me ready access to her arm.

I took a tourniquet from my purse and quickly tied it around her arm. Her eyes got as big as dinner plates and her screaming stopped for about two ticks while she took it all in. One tick later and she started screaming an octave higher than before. She didn't know what was coming, but I could only imagine that she thought that it was going to be something like what she'd done. She was so scared that the veins in her forehead and neck were bulging out, thick as pencils. I worried about her dying from the stress. I didn't want that. Had to hurry.

I took a syringe from my purse and quickly removed the cap on the needle. BlueEyes held her arm (no alcohol, no time) as I found a vein and the Lord granted me an immediate signal of a good vein as blood pushed back into the syringe. I popped the tourniquet and put the Demerol/Valium mix into her as fast as the shrink said was possible without getting close to harming her. Eventually, she went into twilight sleep. My! I'd never imagined that I would've been involved with attacking and drugging a woman that I didn't know. Naturally, I never imagined doing that with a woman that I

did

know!!