Kate
Copyright© 2026 by Drabbles
Chapter 6: Reclaiming
Drama Sex Story: Chapter 6: Reclaiming - What happens when you try to defend the wrong person? How do you recover when everything you wanted to believe was wrong? One woman's journey.
Caution: This Drama Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa mt/Fa Fa/Fa Ma/Ma Drunk/Drugged Rape BiSexual Incest Mother Son BDSM Polygamy/Polyamory Swinging AI Generated
“You’re coming home with me,” Kate said later, when they’d showered and dressed. It wasn’t a question.
“We weren’t planning on letting you go home alone,” Alex said firmly. “Not after what you’ve been through.”
Matthew nodded. “We’ll stay as long as you need us.”
Kate felt tears prick her eyes again—but these were different. Not tears of violation or grief, but of gratitude. “Thank you,” she whispered.
They packed overnight bags and followed Kate’s car back to her house. Walking through the front door with them felt different—like she was reclaiming the space that Timmy had violated. Matthew and Alex moved through the rooms with her, their presence making everything feel safer.
That night, Kate slept between them in her own bed—the bed where Timmy had violated her—and felt like she was taking it back. Making it hers again.
The next morning, Matthew was on his phone before Kate had finished her coffee.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Calling a locksmith. We’re changing your locks today.” His tone left no room for argument. “And I’m installing security cameras. Front door, back door, driveway. You need to know if he comes back.”
Kate’s throat tightened. “You don’t have to—”
“Yes, we do,” Alex said, squeezing her hand. “Let us take care of you, Kate. You’ve been taking care of everyone else for so long. Let us do this.”
The locksmith arrived within two hours. While he worked on the locks, Matthew set up the security cameras he’d ordered for same-day delivery. Alex helped him, the two of them working together with easy coordination. Kate watched from the kitchen window as Matthew climbed a ladder to install the camera above the front door, Alex steadying it below.
Something about watching them take care of her—protect her—made Kate’s chest ache with emotion. No one had ever done this for her. Not her ex-husband, not Timmy’s father, not anyone. She’d always been the one doing the protecting, the caretaking, the sacrificing.
When Matthew came back inside, Kate threw her arms around him. “Thank you,” she said against his chest.
“Always,” he murmured, holding her tight.
By evening, the house was secure. New locks, cameras monitoring every entrance, and Kate had both Matthew and Alex’s numbers programmed into the security system. She felt safer than she had in days.
Two days later, Kate’s phone buzzed with a text from Timmy: “Coming by tomorrow at ---pm to get my stuff. Don’t try to stop me.”
Kate showed the message to Matthew and Alex. They’d barely left her side since that first night, taking turns staying over, making sure she was never alone.
“We’ll be here,” Matthew said immediately.
“You don’t have to—”
“Kate.” Alex’s voice was gentle but firm. “We’re going to be here. End of discussion.”
The next afternoon, Kate paced the living room while Matthew and Alex sat calmly on the couch. When the doorbell rang at exactly ---pm, Kate’s heart jumped into her throat.
Matthew answered the door. Timmy stood on the porch with empty boxes, his face hardening when he saw Matthew.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Timmy demanded.
“Supporting Kate,” Matthew said evenly. “Come in. Get your things. Then leave.”
Timmy pushed past him, and his eyes went immediately to Alex sitting on the couch. Then to Kate. His expression twisted into something ugly.
“Both of them?” he spat. “You’re fucking both of them? Jesus Christ, Mom, you’re pathetic.”
“Get your things and go, Timmy,” Kate said, her voice shaking but firm.
“You’re a whore,” Timmy said, his voice rising. “A disgusting old whore spreading her legs for anyone who’ll have her. You’re supposed to be my mother—”
“Watch your mouth,” Matthew warned, stepping forward.
“Or what? You’ll hit me again?” Timmy’s laugh was bitter. “She belongs to me. She’s my mother. Mine. She doesn’t get to choose you over me. She doesn’t get to have a life that doesn’t revolve around me. That’s not how this works.”
Kate felt sick. The possessiveness in his voice, the entitlement—it was disturbing on a level she hadn’t fully grasped before.
“I’m a person, Timmy,” Kate said quietly. “Not your property.”
“You’re my mother! You’re supposed to sacrifice for me! You’re supposed to put me first!” Timmy was screaming now, his face red. “But instead you’re acting like a slut, fucking some guy young enough to be your son, letting him and his girlfriend use you—”
Matthew’s fist connected with Timmy’s jaw before Kate could even process what was happening. Timmy went down hard, sprawling on the floor, and something fell from his pocket—a small orange prescription bottle that skittered across the hardwood.
Alex moved quickly, picking it up. Her face went pale. “Kate. These are sleeping pills. The same brand you take.”
Kate’s blood ran cold. She looked at the bottle in Alex’s hand, then at Timmy on the floor, and understanding crashed over her like a wave. The nights she’d slept unusually deeply. The mornings she’d woken up groggy and disoriented. The way Timmy had always been so insistent about making her tea before bed.
“How many times?” Kate whispered. “How many times did you drug me?”
Timmy scrambled to his feet, his hand going to his jaw. “I don’t know what you’re talking about—”
“How many times did you come into my room while I was unconscious?” Kate’s voice was rising now. “How many times did you—” She couldn’t finish.
“Get your shit and get out,” Matthew said, his voice deadly calm. “You have ten minutes.”
Timmy looked between them—Matthew’s clenched fists, Alex’s disgusted expression, Kate’s devastated face—and something in him seemed to break. He grabbed his boxes and ran upstairs.
They could hear him throwing things around, moving frantically. Eight minutes later, he came down with three boxes stacked precariously, not looking at any of them.
“I’ll be back for the rest,” he muttered.
“No,” Kate said. “You won’t. I’ll box it up and leave it on the porch. You’re not coming inside this house again.”
Timmy’s eyes flashed with rage, but one look at Matthew made him think better of whatever he was about to say. He left, slamming the door behind him.
Kate watched through the window as he loaded the boxes into his car and drove away. Then she turned to Matthew and Alex, and the rage hit her like a physical force.
“I want to hurt him,” she said, her voice shaking. “I want him to feel what I’m feeling. I want him to know—” She stopped, an idea forming. A terrible, impulsive, vengeful idea.
“Kate?” Alex asked carefully.
“I want to make a video,” Kate said. “I want to send it to him. I want him to see—” She looked at Matthew. “I want him to see what he can never have. What he can never be.”
“Kate, I don’t think—” Matthew started.
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