Kate
Copyright© 2026 by Drabbles
Chapter 8: Reclamation
Drama Sex Story: Chapter 8: Reclamation - 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
Two weeks later, Detective Chen called with an update that made Kate’s stomach drop.
“We haven’t been able to locate him,” the detective said, her voice apologetic. “He’s not at any known addresses—not with friends, not with extended family. His phone is off, his credit cards haven’t been used. He’s gone underground.”
Kate’s hand tightened on the phone. “So he’s just ... out there?”
“We have alerts on all his accounts, his vehicle registration, everything. The moment he surfaces, we’ll know. But right now, he’s evading us.” Detective Chen paused. “Mrs. Morrison, I want you to be careful. Keep your security system active, don’t go anywhere alone, and call us immediately if you see or hear from him.”
After the call ended, Kate sat on the couch, staring at nothing. Timmy was out there somewhere. Watching? Planning? She felt exposed, vulnerable, like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Matthew found her there an hour later, still frozen. “Kate?”
“They can’t find him,” she whispered. “He’s hiding. He could be anywhere.”
Matthew pulled her into his arms. “Then we stay vigilant. We keep you safe. He’s not getting near you.”
Three days later, Detective Chen called again. “Mrs. Morrison, we’ve been going through the devices more thoroughly. There are ... there are more videos. Going back years.”
Kate felt the room tilt. “How many years?”
“The earliest ones we’ve found are from seven years ago. When your son was eighteen.”
Seven years. Seven years of violations she hadn’t known about. Kate requested copies—she needed to know, needed to understand the full scope of what had been done to her.
Watching them was torture. The videos showed a progression—Timmy starting tentatively when he was barely an adult, just touching her while she slept, then growing bolder over the years. By the time he was twenty, he was regularly assaulting her unconscious body. The videos were dated, timestamped. Dozens of them. Maybe hundreds.
Kate watched until she couldn’t anymore, then forwarded everything to Detective Chen. She sat in the shower afterward, water beating down on her, and grieved for all those lost years. All those nights she’d thought she was safe in her own bed.
“He stole so much from me,” she told Dr. Walsh in their next session. “Not just my body. My sense of safety. My trust. Years of my life.”
“Yes, he did,” Dr. Walsh agreed. “And it’s okay to grieve that. But Kate, you’re still here. You’re still fighting. That matters.”
Despite everything—the ongoing threat, the new revelations, the weight of trauma—Kate was making progress. The nightmares were less frequent. She could sleep through most nights now, especially with Matthew or Alex beside her. She was learning to recognize her triggers, to use grounding techniques when panic threatened to overwhelm her.
“Reclaiming your body and your sexuality can be part of healing,” Dr. Walsh told her. “Not as a way to forget or minimize what happened, but as a way to assert ownership. Your body is yours, Kate. What you do with it, who you share it with—those are your choices now.”
Kate thought about that a lot. About how sex with Matthew and Alex felt different from what Timmy had stolen from her. With them, she was present. She was choosing. She was in control.
“I want to get a dog,” Kate announced one morning over breakfast.
Matthew looked up from his coffee. “A dog?”
“I’ve always wanted one. But Timmy never allowed it. He said they were too much work, too expensive, too messy.” Kate’s voice hardened. “He controlled even that. Something so small. So I want a dog now.”
Alex grinned. “Then let’s go get you a dog.”
They went to the shelter that afternoon. Kate walked past the kennels, her heart breaking at all the hopeful faces, until she stopped at one near the end. A German Shepherd mix, three years old, with intelligent brown eyes and a calm demeanor.
“That’s the one,” Kate said.
The shelter volunteer smiled. “That’s Luna. She was a police dog in training but washed out because she’s too gentle. She’s protective but sweet. Great with people.”
Luna came home with them that day. She followed Kate everywhere, a warm presence that made the house feel safer. At night, Luna slept beside Kate’s bed, and Kate found comfort in the sound of her breathing.
To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account
(Why register?)
* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.