Falling for her oppressor

chapter 9

It's been two weeks since Jason bought me from my aunt. Two weeks since he brought me that document, showing me in black and white that I now belong to him. I still can't believe it. My own aunt, selling me off like a piece of property. It's a bitter pill to swallow.

Now, I'm stuck in this luxurious prison, waiting for Jason to come home every day. He uses me whenever he wants, and I'm forced to comply. I've built walls around myself, trying to protect what's left of my dignity. I'm cold to him, unresponsive, but he doesn't seem to care.

He just sees me as a possession, a toy to be played with and discarded when he's done. I'm nothing more than a convenience to him, a way to satisfy his desires. I feel like a slave, trapped in this gilded cage.

Jason doesn't seem to notice, or maybe he just doesn't care. He's too busy with his work, his business dealings, to pay attention to me. I'm just a footnote in his life, a minor detail.

But I see the way he looks at me, the way he touches me. He's possessive, controlling. He likes knowing that I'm his, that he owns me body and soul.

********

Jason strode into the shopping mall with an air of confidence that was impossible to ignore. His tall, imposing frame and sharp features immediately caught the attention of everyone around him. He was dressed in a sleek black suit that fit him perfectly, exuding wealth and power. As he walked past the gleaming storefronts, heads turned—both men and women alike couldn’t help but glance in his direction. But Jason’s focus was singular. He had a mission.

He entered one of the most exclusive fashion boutiques in the city, where the prices of the clothes were as intimidating as the store's luxurious marble floors. The moment he stepped in, the sales associates exchanged glances, their curiosity piqued. His mere presence commanded attention, and they knew instantly that he wasn’t just another window shopper.

A young saleswoman with perfectly styled hair and a practiced smile approached him. “Good afternoon, sir. How can I assist you today?”

Jason’s eyes swept over the racks of expensive dresses, each one more elegant and expensive than the next. Without a moment’s hesitation, he spoke, his deep voice causing the saleswoman to straighten. “I’m looking for dresses. A variety. Something elegant but comfortable. All in size… about this tall,” he gestured with his hand, “slim, but with curves.”

The saleswoman blinked, momentarily taken aback by his directness. She quickly nodded, leading him toward the racks. “Of course, sir. We have several collections that might suit your needs.”

Jason moved through the store with the precision of someone who knew exactly what he wanted. He pointed out one dress after another—luxurious silks, delicate lace, and bold, tailored pieces. “I’ll take this… and this… and that one as well,” he said, barely glancing at the price tags as he selected outfits in a variety of colors, from soft pastels to striking blacks.

The saleswoman could barely keep up, mentally calculating the exorbitant total he was racking up with every addition to his growing pile. Her colleagues began to gather, all watching in awe as Jason continued his spree, picking up shoes, handbags, and accessories without a second thought.

“And shoes,” he said, turning to another display. “Size 7, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Yes, sir,” one of the sales associates responded breathlessly, hurrying to fetch an array of high heels, flats, and boots that ranged from classic to avant-garde. Each pair looked more expensive than the last, but Jason didn’t seem to care.

As he moved toward the final section, his eyes fell on something in the corner of the store. "What about the underwear?" he asked casually, as if he were discussing something as mundane as socks. "Show me the options."

The saleswoman hesitated for a split second before guiding him toward the lingerie section. “Of course, sir. We have a wide range of sizes and styles. Do you know her exact size?”

Jason smirked, his eyes glinting with amusement. “I’ll know the size when I see it.”

The young woman swallowed, quickly pulling out several sets of lace bras and panties, all delicate and finely crafted. Jason inspected them with the same sharp focus he had given the dresses, nodding approvingly. “Pack these up as well,” he said.

The saleswomen, now all gathered behind the counter, exchanged glances of disbelief. Each one of them was trying to imagine the woman who would receive these gifts—whoever she was, she was beyond lucky. It wasn’t just the money he was spending, though the amount was staggering. It was the way he carried himself, the clear devotion he was showing to whoever this was for.

After nearly an hour of shopping, Jason finally approached the register, where the pile of clothes, shoes, and accessories had grown so large that it took two saleswomen to organize it all.

The total flashed across the register—an unbelievable sum that would have made most people’s hearts skip a beat. Jason didn’t even blink. He pulled out his card, swiped it, and turned his attention back to the saleswoman. “Deliver everything to this address,” he said, handing her a card with his address printed in crisp, bold letters.

“Yes, sir, we’ll have it delivered by this evening,” she replied, still stunned by the total amount she had just rung up.

Jason nodded once and turned to leave. As he walked out of the store, every pair of eyes in the boutique followed him, admiration and envy etched on their faces. The saleswomen, now left behind the counter, whispered among themselves.

“Can you believe it?” one of them murmured. “Whoever that girl is… she’s so lucky.”

“I almost want to cry,” another said with a wistful smile. “A man like that… buying all this for someone? She must be incredibly special.”

Jason left the store without a second glance, the image of Kyra's face at the forefront of his mind. He stepped back into the bright lights of the mall,

Jason arrived home, his mind still on the bags of expensive clothes, shoes, and accessories that were on their way to be delivered. He had done all of this for her, for Kyra. The anticipation of seeing her in the outfits he'd handpicked had lingered in his mind all day.

As he stepped through the front door, the house was eerily quiet. He kicked off his shoes and made his way upstairs, expecting to find her. When he reached her bedroom door, he found it locked.

His hand gripped the knob, and he twisted it with growing impatience. “Kyra?” he called out, knocking a bit harder. Silence greeted him.

His jaw clenched, and he rapped on the door again, this time with more force. “Kyra, open the door!”

Still, there was no answer.

Inside the room, Kyra heard him clearly. She had taken a long shower, hoping the warm water would wash away the exhaustion and turmoil of the past night. After putting on her old clothes from the day before, she had crawled into bed, too drained to deal with Jason or his demands. His voice echoed through the house, but she refused to acknowledge him. Her heart was heavy with confusion and resentment, and she couldn’t find the energy to face him, not after everything.

Jason’s patience snapped. His knock turned into a pound, and he slammed his palm against the door. “Kyra!” he shouted, the anger bubbling in his voice. “Open this door right now!”

Nothing.

Fury ignited in his chest. He spun on his heel and stomped downstairs, his footsteps loud against the hardwood floors. His eyes landed on the drawer near the kitchen where the spare keys were kept. He yanked it open and grabbed the set of keys, returning upstairs with a tense, determined pace.

Kyra remained still, her back to the door. She heard the faint sound of keys jingling, and her chest tightened. She didn’t want to face him—not like this. She pulled the blanket over her shoulder, curling deeper into the bed, pretending that if she stayed quiet enough, he might go away.

But Jason wasn’t about to let it go.

With a sharp twist, the key slid into the lock, and the door swung open. He stood in the doorway, his tall frame tense with barely contained rage. His dark eyes swept over the room until they landed on her, lying in bed, facing away from him.

“Kyra!” he barked, stepping into the room and slamming the door behind him. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Kyra remained silent, her body rigid as she stared at the wall. She didn’t turn, didn’t speak. Her silence only fueled his anger.

Jason moved closer, his footsteps heavy with frustration. “I knocked. I called for you. Why didn’t you answer me?” he demanded, his voice growing louder with every word.

Still, she didn’t respond.

His hand gripped the edge of the bedpost, knuckles white with tension. “Are you ignoring me now?” His tone was sharp, dangerous. He leaned over the bed, towering above her. “I asked you a question, Kyra. Why didn’t you open the damn door?”

She clenched her eyes shut, willing herself to stay calm, but the weight of his presence pressed down on her. She could feel the heat of his fury filling the room, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of a response.

Jason’s temper flared. He was used to getting answers, used to control. And her defiance—this silent, unyielding defiance—drove him to the edge. He slammed his hand against the wall next to the bed, causing Kyra to flinch slightly, though she still didn’t turn to face him.

“I’m talking to you!” he yelled, his voice booming through the room. “When I ask you something, you answer me! What the hell is going on with you?”

His breathing was harsh, his anger palpable in the charged silence that followed. But Kyra stayed frozen, her fists clenching under the blanket. She was afraid if she opened her mouth, she would say something she couldn’t take back.

Jason’s hand raked through his hair, his frustration now simmering beneath the surface. He was used to controlling every situation, but this? Kyra’s silence—her resistance—was testing every ounce of his patience.

“You think you can ignore me now?” he growled, leaning down so his face was closer to hers.

Her heart thudded painfully in her chest, but she still refused to move, her body stiff and unyielding. She wasn’t ready to give in, not this time.

Jason’s eyes flickered with disbelief, his anger threatening to boil over. He couldn’t understand her behavior—this sudden coldness, this blatant disregard for him. He stood there for a moment longer, his breath heavy, his eyes dark with a mixture of confusion and rage.

“You’re testing my patience, Kyra,” he warned, his voice low and dangerous. “And trust me, you won’t like where this is headed if you keep this up.”

But even then, she didn’t move.

With one last glance at her still form, he turned and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The sound echoed through the house, leaving Kyra lying there, her chest tight with suppressed emotion, her mind a whirl of conflicting thoughts.