Dystopian Nevada, with D/s — what Emily is up to

I love my new work-in-progress. I hope to goodness my editors let me keep the working title, which is the source from which the whole story flowed: The Naughty Panties. Here's how it will begin:

The notice posted in regimental headquarters outside the officers' mess, as always with such declarations from the general's special office of subjugation, conveyed its message with great clarity and economy.

The following officer is hereby awarded subjugatory duties in the listed town.

Capt B Clark, 35th Rgt, 4th Cpy: Springfield, SE

General Dumfries offers his congratulations to Captain Clark.
In appearance, the notice conferred an honor. Indeed, subjugatory duties also carried a medal to add to the five Captain Bradley Clark already wore across his chest. What the notice actually meant, however, was much more complex, and troubling.

Captain Bradley Clark, commander of the 4th Company of the 35th Regiment of General Frederick Dumfries' Army of Western Liberation, must send the naughty panties to an eighteen year old girl of the town of Springfield.

Of all the strange, oppressive things General Dumfries had done since the rebellion of 2542, the institution of the "subjugatory duty" — the sending of the naughty panties, and the things that must follow — seemed to Bradley at once the most monstrous and the cleverest. At war with himself, just as he knew the general intended officers given this duty to be, he went to the quartermaster for the census list, and the photographs of young women, of Southeast region, where Springfield lay.

The edict instituting the subjugatory duty did not specify how the officer assigned was to choose the girl who would receive his notice, in the form of the naughty panties. Thankfully, to make the thing a little more bearable, a convention had evolved which did not, it appeared, displease the general: the families of the town chosen for subjugation were ranked according to the head-of-household's occupation, beginning with the mayor (if any) and followed by the town council, then proceeding down through the professional classes, until at least one eighteen year old daughter was found.

Here the process of choosing to girl to be subjugated as a symbol of her town's abject abasement before the Army of Western Liberation became a little murkier. Most officers whom Bradley knew who had received the "honor" of subjugating a girl would request photographs of the first five girls, and then choose the prettiest.

Bradley resolved not to do that. He would subjugate the highest ranking eighteen-year-old girl in Springfield, no matter her physical charms. Indeed, he held out a vague hope that the girl might have some physical infirmity that would give him the opportunity somehow to evade the duty.

But Springfield had a mayor, and the mayor had a daughter who had turned eighteen in December, four months before. Jenna Caprio. And she was beautiful: stunningly beautiful, with long blonde hair and cornflower blue eyes, smiling shyly at the camera for her high school graduation picture.

Then he looked at the inspection pictures taken by the army counselor, Mrs. Trest, who had given the "Human Development" classes at Hilldale High in January: Jenna spreading her pussy open for the camera, mossed with a little yellow hair; Jenna bending over a desk and spreading her prim little backside to show her anus. His cock grew stiff as a soldier on parade — how could he help it? The general's Traditional Values in Human Development program couldn't but accomplish its aim, when it filled the census files with these "inspection" pictures.

Bradley sat back in his desk chair, in the big main room of regimental headquarters, stunned. He had known in theory why the subjugatory duty was both monstrous and clever, but he had not expected to be confronted so starkly with its twin nature. How could he do the right thing? What was the right thing? How could he subjugate this lovely girl? But how could he avoid it?

I'm guessing mid-June.