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Summary
“Is good that you know what you like. And you haven’t done anything wrong,” Ilya continues. “Not really. But I think you like being punished anyway. And that you want me to put you over my knee and make you cry. Am I wrong, or no? You want me to hurt you? Is that what you have been trying to tell me?”
Shane shakes his head, but the motion is weak. He’s abandoned his phone entirely at this point, and his eyes are already glazing over, cloudiness rushing to his head.
“No? Is not good to lie, you should know this by now. I want to hurt you, and I think you want it too, Shane.”
“No,” Shane breathes. “I don’t want that,”
“Oh, but I didn’t ask for your opinion, did I? Like I said, I’m bored. And I want to have fun.”
Ilya’s ideas of fun and remedies for boredom are: joyrides, Shane, parties, Shane, the cottage, and oh, Shane bent over his knee, whimpering and crying as he’s reduced to an absolute mess.