[Depraved]

Cheever finally stopped spazzing long enough to sit up, wiping at his face.
Sitting on the end of the dresser, Vera-Ellen laughed and laughed.
"You look just like a fucking clown with that shit all over your face!"
She covered the mouth of her beer bottle with her finger, gave it a good shake, then sprayed him with foam.
Growling, he shook his head, then started laughing quietly. She joined in after a moment, but kept her knife poised and her eyes sharp.
When Sully moaned piteously, they both turned their heads to look.
Sully lay on the now filthy mattress, naked and covered in blood.
"What's going on?" he cried weakly, and shuffled his feet against the matress.
Vera-Ellen glared at him impatiently.
"Ain't you dead yet?"
Cheever looked back at her, and considered her carefully.
"So, you did this to him?"
She nodded her head.
"Trust me, fella; I'm not half done with him either."
Cheever watched her as she moved back over to stand by Sully, and watched with rising excitement as he cringed away from her; making small noises deep in his throat, he looked up at Cheever with pleading eyes.
"Jesus Christ, Drifty; get this bitch away from me!"
Sully jerked mightily at his bonds, hands purpled and stiff. He began crying softly, tears loosening the clotted blood in his eyes.
"I'll give you anything, man; fucking anything!"
Cheever grinned at Vera-Ellen.
"And you wonder why I helped you out?"
He gestured grandly at the pleading Sully.
"Well, there's your fucking answer!"