Laconia-VII, previously sanctioned for inequality and slavery

It took a few minutes for the docking sequence to finish, during which time you chatted amiably with another passenger. Gloria Feston, one of the most celebrated stateswomen and civil rights advocate in the known universe. The woman had led a crusade from planet to planet, establishing whole interplanetary coalitions and installing countless regulatory bodies in the pursuit of true and lasting gender equality everywhere. She was the real deal. It was a tremendous boost to your career when she selected you to lead a commission to oversee the "rehabilitation" of Laconia Seven.

You'd been chosen for a lot of reasons, including an impressive administrative and bureaucratic record in a few low-level economic watchdog organizations. Gloria herself had praised your integrity and sense of justice, and you rose quickly within your division until you were entrusted to serve as Committee Chairwoman for the entire region that included Laconia Seven. Much of the region was self-regulating and needed little-to-no attention.

Docking complete, Gloria took your hand in two of hers as you prepared to exit the diplomatic cruiser into the orbiting station. "Always a pleasure, Candice. I'm so proud of you and all you've managed to accomplish here in just a few years."

You smiled and thanked her for the kind words. The woman saw herself as some sort of mother figure to the rest of her staff, all of whom were women.

You strode off the ship, looking stately and respectable to all the other women aboard. It was very important that they believe you to be exactly that. If they knew the full story, well, it'd cause problems.

L7, as it tended to be called in un-official memos and communique, was your region's problem child. Once reports of its planet-wide oppression of women, state-sponsored slavery, and other disturbing practices had spread to the central systems and its government, you were called on to make things right.

The planet was officially sanctioned, and you were named its only hope of redemption. Only by satisfying your very high standards could that sanction have been lifted.

It was lifted, of course, you saw to that. But it took two years to make it convincing.

Once the larger cruiser vanished from real space, you sighed in relief. Unless something noteworthy happened, there would be no further visitations or sessions for quite some time. L7 was pretty far from the central systems, after all.

Just how you liked it.

Your personal quarters on the station were kept clean and tidy at all times. It was in the best interest of everyone in power that this space be left as professional as possible, as you were sometimes required to attend meeting virtually or otherwise record holographic reports, and that office was your preferred location.

Standing outside your quarters was a man. The President of Laconia-VII, himself. Arturo Thrash. Tall, dark, and handsome. The man commanded the absolute respect of his people and, thanks to your tireless efforts deceiving Gloria and her various regulatory bodies, he also enjoyed the total enslavement of every female human on his planet.

He smirked at you when you approached, making no effort to hide the way his eyes roamed your body. "I take it your session was... uneventful. No surprises?"

"Yes, Sir," you say, fighting the urge to fall on your knees at his feet. It was very important to keep your official uniform as pristine as possible. "This **** has done her job well. All sanctions are officially lifted. You are free to continue as you wish."

He cupped a hand beneath your chin, brushing his thumb across your lips for a moment before responding. It sent a shiver down your spine as you met his eyes. "Excellent. Go and get changed out of this ridiculous thing. I'm returning to the surface. I can't stand being up here. As promised, next time you're planetside, you will have your reward. I've taken care of it."

Reward. The word always made you feel a little giddy. It had been no accident that you worked so hard to get assigned to this sector, specifically. Laconia Seven had always been your idea of paradise. Thanks to countless hours scouring the shady corners of the galactic net in search of content to satisfy your deep and powerful fetish, you'd learned of its twisted practices long before the government did.

You would do anything to keep it from being spoiled by misguided, vainglorious fools such as Gloria "God Complex" Feston. The bitter middle-aged woman didn't know what was good for her, spending all her time telling other women how they could or couldn't enjoy themselves.

"Yes, Sir! Thank you! This one is grateful."

But he was already gone. Walked away while you were thanking him. So you just dart into your special quarters to file your paperwork and make several notes about the day.

You couldn't get out of your uniform fast enough. Your reward. Finally. It took every ounce of self control you had not to simply chuck the garment into the laundry chute. Rather, you laid it out where it would be collected for dry cleaning.