My Dear Beth Ch. 05 - The End?

Oh, goodness! My panties are dripping! I'm going to take a break and have BlueEyes do his duty!

*****

Whew! Well, that turned into a long day and night! But, I'm back. No, no details! Those will (ahem) cum soon enough. So.....

*****

I told him that I was going to put some Ecstasy up his butt and that resulted in him wanting me to massage his prostate and make him cum before I put the Ecstasy in.

Slowly, I milked his prostate and forced the prostatic fluid onto his stomach. He'd long ago had a vasectomy, so there was no sperm in there. I didn't do it fast enough to result in an orgasm. It was very frustrating because he was just a hand stroke or two away from an explosive release. Very frustrating for him and I enjoyed that very much!

With that done, I inserted the Ecstasy then went to wash my hands thoroughly. Infection control was always observed. It was a practice that ensured that when we played with sounds and/or catheters, etc., for either of us, we never got infected.

Next, I set him up with an I.V. kit and injected some LSD through the line, along with some Special K. The K took a while to inject properly; you can't just shove a couple of cc's in since the bottles we had were 100 milligrams per milliliter. Immediately after I finished that, I slowly infused him with a small dose of Fentanyl.

We were tripping and the Ecstasy and Special K started to hit us and we exchanged very intense remarks about how we were feeling (that was the Ecstasy) and how we felt about each other. Words of love flew thicker than lies from politicians. Of course, I was on the bed with him and we kissed and I fondled his body and engorged cock. The kissing was fine, but everything else was very frustrating for him. Well, that was exactly the idea, right? God forgive me, but I loved torturing him because it meant that his orgasm was going to be huge!

As we got going, the Fentanyl was taking the edge off for both of us. He and I were tripping, emoting because of the Ecstasy, the Special K was doing its thing - and we were ready.

I got on top of him and worked his cock with my pussy muscles until he couldn't stand the edging and he was screaming that he'd do anything if I'd make him cum. I asked, "Anything?" He, of course, repeated what he'd said.

"Baby, would you kill me if I asked you to?"

The first time I asked that, you would've thought that I'd murdered a baby in front of him. Indeed, we had to stop as I worked on his mind until he said, "Karen, I'd do anything in this world that you asked me to, without hesitation, including ending your wonderful life. Do you want me to get up and kill you or are we going to get on with this?"

Now, that's devotion! Of course, if he'd asked me to do that same to him, I'd gladly do it. Whatever my baby wants.

Back to the fucking. I went to work on him and pretty quickly he had a body-shaking orgasm, which made me cum at the same time. Wowza!

It's amazing what mutual hypnotism will do for mutual orgasms! Oh, my!

We rested for a bit and then rinsed and repeated two more times. While he was resting, I released a hand so that he could either finger me or use the Magic Wand on me. I generally had lots of orgasms when I was the one in control but begging for even one when I wasn't.

Here's a 'fun' part that I had thought up. He didn't know this was coming the first time I did it, and he was freaking when it happened. Please don't judge.

He said that he was done and asked that we stop. I jumped down, grabbed a syringe and screamed at him, "You're done? Well, youare done, motherfucker! I'm going to kill you and there's nothing that you can do. I love you more than the Earth and stars, but I need to do this! You can't say that you're done - to me! These drugs are making me crazy and this time it's for real! You're going to meet God and I envy you! I'll follow, but I won't be going to Heaven to be with you."

Later, he said that he was certain that he was about to die. The thing that most concerned him was that I'd given him substantially more LSD and Ketamine, as well as myself. Just knowing how large my dose was made him think that I might've flipped out and the increased dissociation that he experienced had him very much questioning what the reality was.

I put the Fentanyl syringe into the port and stared at him and told him that while I loved him, I realized that we were done on this Earth.

He got very scared and pee ran down his stomach to the bed. He didn't know that I now hated God, or he would've been off-the-charts scared.

I knocked his ass out and got into bed. I had the staff come up, slowly infuse Fentanyl into me until I was unconscious, then remove our lines. She was then to clean the pee up, remove the towels that were under him, and cover us up. Snug as two bugs in a rug.

When we woke, we celebrated being alive and were very, very happy that we were together.

That seems ok, right?

Why am I writing all of this? I've no idea. Fuck your opinion and your judgment of us! Also, Jesus can't go fuck Himself!

*****

The last time we did this, it turned out to be rather 'unique.' Well,unique isn't quite the word. 'Totally fucked up' are the three words.

We both had lines in and then I restrained him. I injected a particularly heavy dose of the usual drugs plus Dexedrine into me. I made a real point of showing my baby what I was taking and he became very concerned for my welfare and had no small amount of increased concern for his own.

Before my drugs took hold, I shot him up with his dosages of the same drugs. He was starting to become more and more concerned about what was going to happen. He started asking to be released. He didn't 'Submit' me, though. We'd agreed to never use that word to escape. We had no safeword because we trusted each other, completely. He said that if the same scenario were ever to happen, he'd 'Submit' my ass in a New York second. Which is why this was the first and last time I ever tried anything like this - it would've been pointless to even attempt again.

He was almost freaking out because I told him that I'd jumped his LSD up to 200 mcg.

After some minutes, the LSD, combined with the Special K, kicked in and he was almost beside himself. As the LSD really started rushing and the K-hole was looming, the drugs grabbed his ass into the Void. He started crying and telling me how much he loved me and begged me to save him.

I was standing beside him, being dragged into the Void myself, as he started to freak out about being in the Void, when I said, "Goodbye, love! I love you more than life itself! Please tell me that it's ok if I kill you if that's what I want to do."

Well, that got his attention. We'd recently had that conversation and he looked at me from the Void. I couldn't tell what his expression meant and he wasn't saying anything, just mumbling and crying. I was finding it harder and harder to maintain, but I generally handled drugs better than he did. I always thought that this was because Beth had damaged him and made him more susceptible.

I could tell that he was trying to tell if this was reality or an illusion. After about ten seconds, he said, with a wail, that I had his permission to take his life and do with it whatever I wanted. He looked down and started a slow, deep cry and told me, over and over, how much he loved me.

I said that I wanted him to beg me to kill him, not just to give me his permission. I wanted him to beg for death in his last moments on Earth.

Well, that increased his crying. He closed his eyes and I could see he was trying to come to grips with what he thought was going on and he was factoring in that the LSD might be creating a false reality. The strength of the LSD and Special K combination was causing him to lose control and causing him to doubt that I wasn't going to kill him. It was obvious that it had also produced the even heavier, forlorn crying that he was now doing. Jesus! You would've thought that he was three and that I'd just killed his puppy and gutted it right in front of him! My own drugs were starting to interfere with my ability to act rationally.

Finally, he opened his eyes, tried to blink away the tears while still crying, seemed to find my eyes and said, "Fuck you! Coward!" His eyes closed as he gave into the Void.

I was tripping balls and the other drugs threatened to render me incoherent. I immediately screamed for the staff to rush to our bedroom. I wailed that BlueEyes had died!

With a slight push of the plunger, he went out like a light. His breathing gradually came to a halt and a bit after that, his heart stopped. I had killed my husband. I'm glad that I had three video cameras feeding into our server so that I could savor this, again and again, if we lived.

I said, "If we lived," because if he didn't, I wasn't going to.

Yeah, I'm not a good person. I was going to be one of Lucifer's favorites. However, I was going to challenge him for the sobriquet of "Most Unclean."

If he lived, I was sure that he was going to want to have a very long conversation with me (assuming that I was alive) and probably insist that I see a shrink. However, at that moment, I was starting to freak out even more.

The staff member rushed in, almost in a blind panic. This hadn't ever happened! The scene that she saw was not that unusual except for the fact that my husband was now as white as a sheet and I was most obviously losing control. I yelled at her to turn the oxygen bottle on, to the max, that was beside the headboard just to her left. I almost screamed at her to put the mask on my dead husband and keep it there.

After a few seconds of contemplating my late husband, while being dragged into the Void myself, I examined how I felt. I started crying the kind of cry that the dead must cry on entry to Hell. I'm sure that they could hear me in Seattle. Oh. My. God! I loved him more than I ever thought possible.

I had to calm the staff member, as best I could between fits of wailing, as she'd started to freak out and she hadn't done any drugs. You can well imagine how traumatizing this was for her. With a little trancing, assuming I survived, she'd forget this as soon as I woke up and spoke a word. Isn't hypnosis handy?

I screamed at her (I was doing a lot of screaming) to grab a spray bottle of Narcan and spray it up his nose and then mine. I screamed at her to grab a syringe of Narcan and shoot into his line and turn the flow on full. I managed to grab a Narcan syringe from my bedside table shoot into my port and turned my flow on full.

I climbed on top of him and started CPR. However, because we were on a bed and not a hard surface, I ended up doing his chest compressions by sitting on his chest and using my butt as I would've used my hands. The point was to massage his heart enough to circulate the Narcan, not to get him to breathe.

It was under a minute when the very smallest bit of life managed to find him - and he gasped. Breathing accomplished! Another few minutes, he was back, with no Fentanyl in his system and the Special K was dramatically compromised. Of course, he was still heavily tripping and very, very confused. He looked at me and started crying. We both arrived at what I think was the same place at that moment. I loved him so much!

The staff left, I opened our lines up to about three-quarter flow, to flush the drugs. We spent the next couple of hours tripping heavily and talking Ecstasy talk. When the LSD finally started on that nasty path down, I got him up and we both went to pee. I infused some Fentanyl (the Narcan was gone by then) and took his line out. He was sound asleep. I loved him so much and was very glad that I hadn't murdered him.

I had the staff member come back. She was beside herself so I had to quickly trance her and fix that. I tasked her with injecting me with the Fentanyl, at the rate I designated, and told her to remove my line when she was done, attach HR/O2 gauges onto our index fingers and tape them on, then cover both of us. I told her to stay with us for an hour to watch us, and our gauges, in case either of us had a problem. We were safe.

Or so I hoped. I was never 100% sure that I would wake up when I had her inject me. I was sure that she deeply hated me, though she never let on.

*****

I never did that again, but I'd often fantasize about him doing that to me. However, he just didn't have it in him. I eventually realized that this made him a better person than me. I was happy that he was.

The first time he viewed the recording, he didn't say a word. When the recording finished, he took my hand. and guided me to the bedroom where we cuddled, without speaking, for several hours. He never tried to tell me what he'd gone through while seeing the video. I didn't ask because it was his story to tell. Of course, as you can see, he never journaled after Beth took over the journal, so many years ago. I always held out hope that he would, but I never said anything.

Whew! Writing that down made me realize just how intense that was. I never really understood the effect on my lover, but he was even more affectionate and interested in any issues that affected me from then until now. I reciprocated in full. My baby and I had bonded at the deepest core level, it seemed. A traumatic event, indeed.

*****

Now, you may ask, how is it that you're reading this and I'm not worried about going off to prison? Well, if you must know, I'm dead. The fact that you're reading this also means that my husband is dead. I hope that we are together in Heaven! No, I'm sure that he's there, but I'm not. He may have died after me or at the same time, but this has been left, along with his (and Beth's) journal, to be found.

We went through many elderly people and all of them were very helpful and very discreet. They lived a life of luxury, more as a grandmother, then as a mother then as a brother or sister as we got older. They were all wonderful people, but as is the habit of the very elderly, they passed on after a short number of years, taking our secrets with them.

The shrink died a couple of years ago after a short illness, but he managed to leave us with a very healthy stock of drugs. He did opine, toward the end, that he thought that we were crazy. Yeah, well - so what? Fuck him. And, by the way, fuck Jesus. I am so glad to be over that judgemental prick.

For decades, my husband and I have lived a love that had only been written about in stories and plays and in terms that never could do our love justice. Of course, if I could describe our love, I would - but, I don't think that the vocabulary exists to do that.

The only people we could talk with about this were ourselves. Because we'd lived the traumas and because we'd shared the journey, our communication could sometimes be complete with just a glance.

He could make me cum with just a long, intense look, raising just his right eyebrow.

Yeah, part of that was because he'd hypnotized me to be sensitive to that, but the main part of my cumming was my love for him and feeling his love for me. Sometimes, I could cum when he simply rolled over in his sleep and draped his arm across me as I read.That was not programmed. No, surely not. Hm...

Now, you may askwhy we left this for anyone to ever read. Well, it can't hurt us because we're dead. We have no children, so there aren't any progeny to be shamed by our actions. I have long since made my peace with God and the sins I have committed and accepted that if Hell is my Final Destination, I deserve it.

Why did we leave this? Because of our permanent staff member. She needs to be looked after. Instructions are in the attached manila envelope.

Her name is Beth.

*****

Epilogue

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I don't know about BlueEyes, but Karen and Beth seemed to have been batshit crazy.

Holy fuck. How could they do what they did to their guy?

How could they do what they did to themselves?

If I'd been able to find out who sent these journals to me then I might've had a shot at finding Beth. I still think about her - and this story - at least once a week.

I feel that I've bonded, a little, with these people because reading the journals has somewhat traumatized me.

I wonder what, if anything, Beth will do to me when I publish these journals if she's still alive.

I wonder about Beth's first ex. He had a heart attack, but he was so young!

Did Beth torturehim into a heart attack?

Will I be found dead of an apparent heart attack?

I don't think so, or I wouldn't be publishing these journals.

*****

The Dream

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I know that I've been traumatized because of 'the dream.' I believe it to be a result of reading these journals.

After the first time I had it, I was afraid to go to sleep.

After the second time, I found a shrink to help me.

That didn't help.

The dream starts with a faceless woman grabbing me in my livingroom. She has a grip of iron.

The next thing I know, I'm standing in her bedroom, at the foot of the bed. She stands beside me, dressed all in black.

She doesn't say a word, but I'm commanded to strip and I can't stop myself.

The first time I had this dream, I didn't know what would come next. (obviously, duh!)

Since that first time, I remember what's coming and become terrified.

She glances at me and the glance throws me onto the bed.

She stands at the foot of the bed and glances from one limb to the other. As her gaze settles on a limb, the binding grabs me and wraps itself around me and pulls tight.

It takes an eternity of fear for her eyes to travel to the next limb.

As the last cuff closes, she's instantly beside the bed, with an I.V. in her hand.

She leans down and slowly - ever so slowly - pushes the needle into my hand.

The pain that I can't feel is replaced by yet more terror. As the needle pushes in, my terror level is pushed up and fills my body. My body is vibrating like I'm plugged into the house electricity.

I see her teeth bared as she grins at me.

Her hand now holds a fuckinghuge syringe - it must be a foot wide and three feet long!

She looks down and puts the needle into the membrane on the port.

She looks up at me, grins again - and I scream!

That wakes me up.

I hate that dream.

*****

Post Epilogue

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To the readers of these journals, I am so sorry that I couldn't destroy them. Many times, I stood in front of my fireplace, wanting to throw them in. I came to believe that they're so infested with evil that they wouldn't burn, so I quit thinking that I could destroy them.

In the end, I came to rationalize publishing them in hopes that someone could find Beth and help her.

Or murder her.

*****