It was true that Scorch was attempting to allow gravity to do which she could not do herself. That downward momentum lethargic until Vesperia took things in hand. She felt that grip on her hips, yet words had not been processed in time for the inevitable. Had she not been so addled she might have processed things, it took no mastermind to know what was in store for her.

“AHHHHH!!!!!” She sang out. Pain erupting through her core with the sudden thrust upwards inside her. Her already swollen belly felt more stuffed, felt as if it would burst. At the same time that storm hit her own pleasure was attained. Somewhere her mind's wiring was crossed with pleasure and pain rolling together as one.

Her legs squeezed around that back. Fingers squeezing those breasts. Her body quaked. Rippling in an incredible orgasm, the strongest one she had to date. Her pussy convulsed around that thick staff. Cum sloshed inside her, all bu the little that managed to escape her. Rivets ran down her legs ultimately splashing on the floor beneath her.

There was a brief respite. Long enough for her to come to her senses. She burned with humiliation. Needing this. At the same time enjoying this as well. Laughter ridiculed her. Was she this bad at this? Was Vesperia enjoying the moment? It was hard to sort through this, such things had been irrelevant in the moment as another thrust blanked her mind once more.

Deep, firm thrusts. No one had claimed her so deeply. Again there was a short respite as she recovered before the next onslaught. She lost count of the number of times she came. At first it was practically after each thrust into her core. Then every three thrusts, then five. Even as her stamina was being robbed from her it was being built up. Nothing she had noticed but the Gorgonian was unrelenting.

Each time she was undone Vesperia took glee in that. Her hands fumbled with those breasts, squeezing them, licking and sucking on them. Thrusts within her caused her to cry out in equal parts pleasure and pain.

Se was SO BIG!

Just as she thought her pussy was going to break there was one last titanic thrust, This one going even deeper. Her belly straining as more cum flowed into her with the power of a fire hose. She lifted her head to the ceiling crying out one last time. Unable to take it any longer despite the ache it filled it generated far more in her already tattered body,

Discarded to the floor her knee ached as it took the brunt of that short fall. Was she really burning up? Were the sprinklers activated? No that was cum. A pool of it fled her body drenching her legs while even more coated her hair.

“Ahhh haaahhh ahhhh” She panted. Attempting to gather her breath. Her throat raw with how long and loud she was crying out.

“I … will not fail … Mistress ...” Her breaths heavy. Though as she looked to get cleaned up she found an absence of cleaning material, well other than that other slaves had for their Mistress. But such was not for her as she was told to dress.

Achingly slow she did so. Muscles strained and ached as she squeezed into that tight flight suit. The copious amount of cum causing the material to stick every few seconds as she had to struggle into it. All the while with little energy and each moment causing her to ache or experience twinges of pain.

Despite being run through a marathon the thought of being denied that cock again caused a flurry of butterflies to dance in her belly. Reinforcing what was on the line. Simply put she could not fail regardless of the challenges before her. The drugs doing more than quelling her own release the day prior but causing this moment to imprint on her given the bliss she was allowed to experience after the effect ran it';s course. More often than not Mercer left her unsatisfied afterwards, he had other slaves and tended to be more of a sadist when it came to her.

Scorch glanced to the mess as she pressed up to her hands and knees. Debating between cleaning this mess or getting started she came to the quick conclusion that she was brought here for an alternate purpose. Besides there was a plethora of slaves and she didn't know if she had the energy to attempt the task suffice it to say getting to whatever ship was assigned to her.

“I shall get underway Mistress if there's nothing further.” In the proceeding moments she'd learn where she had to go. Whether or not she had other matters to endure between here and there was another thing. Fortunately once a course was set there was little to piloting unless one found themselves in combat. She could get some rest before reaching Hadante and depending on the ship she might even have the means of getting cleaned up along the way.

Whether Vespira desired the cum soiled slave to clean up this mess was not vocalized. Keeping the Gorgonian waiting on completing the mission was not favorable nor is leaving behind a mess. Destiny had to make a decision and decided to depart. Slaves would return to their duties as the fiery redhead left, no doubt eager to clean up the Mistress's essence left on the floor.

Destiny would find her ship, The Shooting Star, waiting for her in the hangar bay. Whatever preparations Serena made while her sister was busy had long since been finished. Whether Serena desired to say goodbye to her own sister was up to her. In any case, the ship had been repaired and prepped for launch. There were some armaments provided in the various compartments should they be needed for the upcoming task.

R-92 was active and operational. The droid was capable of taking the ship out of the cruiser and setting a course to Hadante. Whatever other utilities the ship had before were still available. If Scorch desired, she could see about getting herself cleaned up while the ship is enroute.

Hadante apparently had ties to space piracy in the sector. The supposed culprit was either a former pirate returning upon earning her freedom or decided that such an occupation was all that there was for her with a gladiatrix's skill set. Scorch claimed her own renown as a former pirate and gladiatrix would help loosen some lips when she asks around.

As expected for a location that revolves around illegal trading and selling of stolen goods, there was not much of a check upon entering Hadante's orbit and eventual landing. There were numerous markets and auctions one could check but Scorch most likely already knew where she had the best chance of finding answers. All she had to do was get there and ensure she did not soil her Mistress's name. As Vespira's belonging, every act and failure would reflect on the slave's owner.

Scorch had to make a decision. In her state leaving the mess seemed more sensible since she had delayed long enough. Plus she probably wouldn't have accomplished the task adequately in her state. It was a chore but exhausted muscles lead her to the hanger. She had to use the walls to retain her balance and stopped several times but never for long as she was determined to get started.

Fortunately she was spotted as she was attempting to make progress. Instructed in the direction of the hanger and told that a ship was already prepared for her. Diverting her course Scorch made her way there. Gathering stares and glances from the staff, other slaves or guards no one interfered with her. Whether under orders or seeing the sad state she was in was hard to say.

When arriving at the hanger and pointed to the ship she'd be using Scorch was surprised. Her old ship. The Shooting Star. No, this had to be the same model of vessel. Creeping up the boarding ramp she took it all in. The little things that stood out to her. Minor cosmetic things that denoted that this indeed was the same vessel. If that weren't enough R-92 was present.

“92!” Her eyes lit up, though the simple exclamation caused her ribs to ache. She hadn't expected to see her old droid again. Though she hadn't expected an emotional response on his part. Collecting herself she instructed him to set a course to Hadante, her home world.

Meanwhile she went to get cleaned up. Afterward she would inspect the ship. Rediscovering all those things about it that she had long thought lost.

Serena hadn't seen her off but left instructions on a datapad that 92 prompted her to. It highlighted the info gathered, had an image of that tattoo/brand so she could show it to people. She wished to see her sister but fortunately didn't since that would have lead to another delay.

After going over some info she gave some thought as to where to start her investigation. It was sensible to start with members of her old crew. They should know of any new players on the scene. This robbery seemed to entail that someone was either desperate or attempting to make a name for themselves. Of course in this case going after Vespira's goods probably meant that this group had no idea what to expect. She ruled out them being too powerful to care. In such cases it was best not to cause wars and disputes. Even minor ones had costs that could be avoided. Her best guess was someone oblivious to the criminal underworld. Could it be as simple as a crew consisting of all former slaves and gladiatrixes? Perhaps. But all that mattered was locating them for now. She had contact information to get back to Vesperia's people.

Though it occurred to her she had few credits to grease any palms. Which left her cashing in favors or making trades. Hadante was full of all sorts of under handed things. She'd just have to adapt.

Struggling she checked out the rest of the ship. It was more or less as she left it. Her clothes, even armaments. Her sword and plasma pistol. She made a few cursory wings of her sword. Her arms ached and she set the blade aside. As much as she'd like to take it she probably shouldn't. The pistol was another matter.

Telling 92 she was going to get some rest she left him with instructions with him to awake her if there were any problems or when reaching Hadante's system, whichever occurred first. She was out of it. While she had intended to pick 92's processors about what he had been up to there was no time for that.

She felt a bit better after a rest. Still sore in lots of places but at least she could move along at more than a hobble. No longer needing support to stay upright.

Once she had landed she used a supply comlink to contact one of her associates, an old fence she unloaded goods with in the past. If there was a recent influx of goods he should know a thing or two about them. Even if he did not deal with them directly. Slaves were unloaded when there was a market for them. If too many for this world they were shipped to other nearby ones. All in all there was often coordination involved here. She didn't know of all the logistics but flooding the market in one good or another was never a good idea. Either they were here or sen to a different world. She wasn't attempting to recover the goods but trying to trace the pirates.

“Hey, Gus, it's Scorch.” The alien was refereed to as Gus anyway. The name too unusual and unpronounceable by humans. “I'm hoping you can help me out.”

Whether it was someone with power, thought they had power, were incompetent, or ignorant; they were all blemishes on Vespira's name and reputation. Learning it was some desperate fool who managed to take what belonged to the scaled mistress would only upset the Gorgonian further.

There was a lack of cash on hand. Nothing was said about bartering off whatever was on the ship. But, Scorch did know she had her body to offer should the need arise. The arena and working in Vespira's establishments had shown just how many credits one was willing to pay to have one of the serpent woman's trained slaves.

R-92 responded with its usual programmed replies. The droid would handle the shuttle operations while the redhead slumbered. A monitor would reveal a hidden camera in the room for the droid to observe Scorch. Once the former pirate was asleep, R-92 pressed a few keys. The lights would dim further and soft music similar to those in the establishments would play. The music would help soothe the woman's psyche while soft messages would play over and over again. A glimmering disco ball of multi-colored lights would flash, ready to further subdue the lovely redhead and continue her slave training during the journey.

The details were lost in Scorch's subconscious but she would wake well rested. The aches and pains of her body had faded while a heated tingling would greet her awakening.

R-92 would wait on the ship while Scorch sought her contacts. It had been so long since she contacted anyone, most of her recent time being spent serving Mercer. The fence was still where the redhead remembered. Gus was a hulking slug-like creature. His skin was more leathery than slimy and what looked like layers of fat were in fact dense muscle.

"Scorch?" He grumbled, "Oh right, thought you were stuck in the arena again. Looking sexy, babe. What brings an enslaved gladiatrix to my shop? Whether I can help you or not depends on what it is and what you pay, you know this."