His back was bruised, though not heavily, and on his shoulders were the still unclosed wounds of teethmarks. Lucien leaned over to touch them; Kammerer winced. “Those are your teeth.”
“Really?” asked Lucien in amusement. “Why didn’t you defend yourself like a man?” Kammerer laughed.
“Here that isn’t all.” He stretched out his hand- there was a strip of flesh hanging from the fleshy lower joints of his fingers.
“Well, well, have I been biting the hand that feeds me?”
Kammerer looked into the mirror, an amused smile playing across his face. He half mumbled, “Well, I suppose we can dispense with recriminations.” Ginsberg looked on, not quite comprehending, feigning an attitude of entertained tolerance.

—The Book of Martyrdom and Artifice
(via lucienscarrrs)