When they brought Laura one of her suits, rather than the clothing she wore when dragged to the detention center, she thought they would force her to make a joint statement with Baltar - to appeal to the insurgency to stop fighting and condemn the use of suicide bombers.
She is abused of the notion when she is led onto Colonial One and sees Baltar wide-eyed and panicked, refusing to look her in the eye. The centurions who brought her take position at the front of the room, leaving them to Cavil and Doral.
"We've asked nicely, treated you with the respect your former position commands, but still you refuse to cooperate. For reasons beyond me, your drug-addled president insists you not be harmed. I've heard there is no love lost between you, but maybe that intel is wrong," Cavil states, "We thought it apt to see what a proper joint government would look like," he continues. "She's all yours, President Baltar."
Baltar's eyes finally land on her, and she sees the terror in them. For all his many faults, this is something he never wanted, Laura realizes, feeling a touch of sympathy for him. She perches at the edge of the ridiculously ornate desk that has replaced her own, and tilts her head at him, indicating he should approach.
The Cylons thought they could shame her, degrade her, break her - make her cower and beg. They might have succeeded had they forced this action on the cold, dirty floor of her detention cell, but they severely miscalculated in bringing her back to Colonial One.
Regardless of the results of the election and the Cylon occupation, this is HER ship. Even when powerless, this cabin on this ship makes her feel powerful, reminds her of her strength and all she has and will sacrifice for these people: her people. This is just one more sacrifice she has to make.
When he gets within reach, Baltar rests his hands on her hips. He moves to kiss her, but she pulls away - looking instead to the growing Cylon audience. Cavil and Doral have been joined by one of the Three models, but the Six and Sharon models are noticeably absent.
Wanting to move things along, Laura slides her hand against Baltar's groin, slightly disgusted at finding him half hard already. She strokes him firmly a few times before sliding up her skirt just enough to provide the needed access.
"Let's get this over with," she whispers, for Baltar's ears only.
She's thankful when he merely slips her underwear aside, and she clenches her teeth, anticipating the initial pain, but resolving to give the Cylons nothing. She buries her head against his neck, hiding her mouth so they can't see how hard she bites her lip to hold in the cry when Baltar enters her.
Baltar repeatedly whispers he's sorry with every thrust, but she merely curls one leg around him and maintains icy eye contact with Cavil. He's their leader and she has no doubt this was his idea; he won't see her look away.
She tries to focus on the discomfort of the edge of the desk digging into her skin, feeling every inch of the polished wood cutting into her. It's over fairly quickly; Baltar finishing with a strangled cry, softening shaft slipping out of her.
She smoothes her skirt down and gives Cavil a haughty look, eyebrow raised. He shakes his head slowly and gestures towards the door, commanding the centurions to escort her to her tent.
Even with Baltar's semen trailing down her thighs, she leaves Colonial One head held high.