The Bully Pt. 12

The significance of the Epsom salts was lost on me at the time. Even as I stood in line at the pharmacy I had no clue what ailments were eased by Epsom salts, or how they were taken. Unfortunately for me, the pharmacist was very interactive and detail oriented, presumably in an attempt to ensure that the correct medication was dispensed. As I listened on in horror, I learned that Epsom salts were used to treat bruises and sprains, sore muscles ligaments and tendons, and general pain and swelling. Administered in a very warm bath, Epsom salts were also great for rectal soreness after hemorrhoid surgery. My hands were shaking as the pharmacist handed me the medication, my thoughts consumed with what John had put Lela through that required her to self-medicate to recover.

I decided to drive Samantha's Maserati to Lela's upscale apartment, and the on-site valet parking attendant assured me that he would keep a close eye on the bright-red exotic sports car. It was with a mix of excitement and trepidation that I knocked on Lela's front door. I hadn't had penetrative sex for several weeks, my sexual activity limited to performing oral sex on Samantha, and jerking off into the crotch of her silky panties as Lela taunted me over the phone.

I hoped that Lela would answer the door in her High School Cheerleader Uniform, or better yet call out from behind the door where she waited patiently on her knees for me. Disappointingly, Lela answered the door in a heavily-scented cotton bathrobe and some carpet slippers, clearly the worse for wear.

"Did you bring the Epsom salts, Mark?" were the very first words out of her mouth, followed immediately by "Can you run me a hot bath? Follow me."

Lela turned her back to me, and evidently in a considerable amount of discomfort, she walked gingerly down the hallway towards her bathroom. I followed her clutching the Epsom salts in one of my hands. When we entered her bathroom, Lela turned to face me although she wouldn't look me directly in the eye.

"What happened to you, Lela?" I asked, making no attempt to hide my concern for her well-being.

When she failed to respond, I placed one hand under her chin and raised her head to look at me. I could see the sadness and self-loathing in her eyes, and I leaned forward to plant a reassuring kiss on her forehead. A faint glint of hope registered in her eyes as I smiled at her, and she leaned in for a kiss. As I did so I immediately detected semen on her lips. Unmistakable in its taste and texture, the viscous fluid hadn't begun to dry yet, a clear indication that Lela had just sucked another man off.

I reached for her bathrobe belt, loosened it and slipped the cotton garment from Lela's shoulders. Lela had sprayed a healthy dose of her favorite perfume onto the robe, but as soon as it fell to the floor, I was assaulted by the strong aroma of urine. Tears formed in her eyes as I looked quizzically for some answers, so I averted my gaze and started to run her a hot bath.

I tried not to stare at Lela's naked form, but the bathroom had floor to ceiling mirrors on three of the walls so it was impossible to avoid the reflections of her battered body. The bath seemed to take an eternity to fill as Lela and I stood just a few feet apart, and I absorbed the wretched state of her. Lela's pert buttocks were covered in bright red stripes, the only explanation for the marks being that she had been viciously caned very recently. There were bruises over much of her upper body and several bite marks visible on her shoulders and breasts. Her nipples were erect and an unusual hue of purple, which I later learned was from an extended period in nipple clamps. Both of her wrists and ankles bore the signs of ligature marks, which presumably was an indication that Lela had been restrained for some of her ordeal.

By the time the bath tub was full, I could no longer stomach the sight and stench of my ex-girlfriend. I extended my arm to provide Lela with some support as she approached the side of the claw-foot tub. Lela was grimacing as she parted her thighs to step over the high-sided bathtub. As her exposed vagina came into view so did the unmistakable sight of another man's semen leaking from it.

"John," Lela said quietly, as she lowered her thrashed body into the hot water.

As I added Epsom salts to her bath it occurred to me that her mono-syllabic uttering was more than enough to convey exactly what had happened here this morning. No other words were needed, but Lela apparently felt otherwise because she began to elaborate.

"I know better than to ever lie to him," Lela began in a hushed tone. "This morning when we were leaving the Dolphin motel John asked me what my plans were for the weekend. After I told him that I was meeting you he became extra territorial and demanded that we come here. John has never been in my new apartment before as we only ever fuck in seedy motels. However, you know how John is. He couldn't bear the thought of you being here before him. John blew his load inside me about fifteen minutes before you arrived, and then wiped the remnants of his seed across my nose, lips and chin. Once he was flaccid he made me kneel in my shower enclosure and urinated all over me. The perfumed bathrobe was supposed to delay your discovery until after you kissed me."

"Is that why you needed fifteen minutes advance warning of my arrival, Lela?" I asked shakily, my anger rising within. "So that John could defile you right before I arrived?"

"Mark, please," Lela begged. "You know I can't resist that dominant prick. Please don't be mad at me."

Truth be told I was incandescent with rage at Lela. She had been texting me for weeks offering up a vast array of sordid sexual delights for my enjoyment. We had shared dozens of phone-sex sessions, during which I would jerk off as Lela promised me a no-limits fuck-fest, if I would just spend one day with her. I had driven over to her new apartment in a high state of arousal, only to be greeted at the door by Lela in an unflattering bath robe and some carpet slippers, despite knowing that she owned dozens of pairs of slutty shoes.

To make matters worse, Lela had John's semen leaking from her vagina and strategically coated around her lips, nose and chin. As the Epsom salts dissolved into the hot water their muscle-relaxing capabilities began to work almost immediately, and Lela slumped deeper into the tub. Epsom salts don't create any bubbles so the water remained clear which offered Lela's battered frame no protection from my wandering eyes.

"My ass is killing me, Mark," Lela said without any thought of how I might react. "I need to turn over."

As she rolled over onto her stomach, I could see the sorry state of her rear end. The bright red stripes across her buttocks seemed angry and inflamed, and the entrance to her asshole was wide open. Occasionally droplets of semen emerged from the gaping hole, floating to the surface of the bath water as I looked on disconsolately.

"Did John butt-fuck you too, Lela?" I hissed angrily. "That would explain the bite marks on both of your shoulders. Is there anything left for me to enjoy?"

As soon as the words left my mouth, we both knew that this was a rhetorical question. Anal sex was completely out of the question in Lela's current gaping state. She no longer possessed the energy to ride me cowgirl style. Doggy-style was off the table too, due to the bruised and battered state of her buttocks. Even the prospect of vanilla sex had been taken from me as the cane marks would have prevented Lela from comfortably adopting the missionary position. I had been looking forward to making Lela my fuck-toy for weeks, and I could feel my rage and jealousy envelop me as I watched this dream evaporate before my very eyes.

"I can still give you a blowjob, Mark," Lela said weakly, although I could tell the last thing that she wanted was to engage in another sex-act.

I had loved this woman for years, ever since we both turned eighteen and started to date. However, as I stood by the side of the high-sided bathtub, I was filled with nothing but contempt for her. I wanted to physically punish her, to hear her cry out in pain as she endured my assault. Before I had a chance to process what I was doing, I extricated my erect cock from my pants, and moved closer to Lela so that I stood directly over the back of her head.

"Look at me you worthless slut," I shouted at Lela, as I began to masturbate furiously.

Lela was still in a considerable amount of discomfort, and I could see her grimacing as she looked over her shoulder and up directly into my eyes.

"I loved you Lela," I said softly as my voice cracked under the depth of my emotions. "I always thought that we would end up getting married. You have gone too far this time."

I knew that Lela was a broken woman as she lay there passively while I masturbated and continually berated her. She made no attempt to apologize for her behavior, or to enhance the enjoyment of my rapidly approaching orgasm through verbal encouragement. Lela didn't smile at me or invite my advances in any way. She simply lay there quietly, tears forming in her eyes as I felt myself getting closer to my climax.

"John was right all along," I shouted as I felt my nuts constrict. "You are nothing but a dirty fucking CumSlut."

A few seconds later, as Lela remained motionless in the still bath water, I bent my knees slightly, aimed right at her head, and blew a copious load across her upturned face. The first rope of ejaculate hit her right on the cheek just below her eye, causing her to involuntarily close her eyelids.

"Look at me you filthy whore," I screamed as Lela forced her semen-splattered eyelids apart.

I ended up blowing five ropes of semen across the side of Lela's face as she sobbed quietly in the rapidly cooling bath water. Traces of John's semen were still visible floating in the water and I watched on intently as our ejaculate commingled for the umpteenth time. After I came I was aware of the deafening silence in Lela's bathroom. The only sounds were my rapid breathing and her muted sobs. Part of me felt sorry for Lela as I shook the remnants of my load onto her back and shoulders, but mostly I felt rage and disdain. Lela remained silent as my cock quickly softened.

I knew that this was the final chapter for Lela and I. Almost ten years in the making, I had truly loved this woman, but now it was time for me to move on. I had closed my eyes in an attempt to block out the visual of her battered and bruised body, and when I slowly reopened them Lela was looking directly back up at me across her shoulder.

"Goodbye Mark," she said quietly through her tear-filled eyes. "This will be your last opportunity to defile me. Don't regret wasting it. I think you are the only man that I have fucked that hasn't given me a golden shower. You are such a spineless pussy."

I had endured the humiliation of being urinated on by John on several occasions, and I truly considered it the most despicable sex-act between two consenting adults. It wasn't just the fucked-up power dynamic, but the smell and taste of liquid waste is also absolutely disgusting. Lela had chosen her provocative words carefully and if she was trying to goad me into urinating on her, she was about to get her wish.

Turning slowly towards her, I held the tip of my flaccid cock between my thumb and forefinger and aimed for the side of her face.

"Goodbye CumSlut," I said angrily, as I released my stream of urine directly into the puddle of semen that pooled just under her eye.

Once again, Lela remained motionless as I adjusted my aim and soaked her long black hair. I urinated all over my ex-girlfriend that day, thoroughly enjoying her debasement as the bath water turned a pale shade of yellow. Once I was done I zipped up my pants and exited her bathroom in silence. I caught a glimpse of myself in the hallway mirror as I approached her front door, and my face was ashen and full of remorse, even though I had felt a sense of satisfaction in Lela's defilement.

As I fired up Samantha's Maserati my words of just a few weeks ago reverberated around in my head.

"Nice guys don't piss on women, Lela."