Climax Taboo Erotic Collection

by Kelly Fleming

  That pain had already earned her a promotion, her coming decoration, and a personal dinner with the royal family. The royal family consisted of the Emperor, his fifteen wives, and their children. The Emperor had adopted the Andrian custom of plural marriage, and many other parts of Andrian culture. The Emperor's wives helped him govern his dynasty; overseeing his fleets, his armies, the Dynastic economy and all the various departments of government. There was much speculation about what went on behind the closed doors of the royal palace and how one man could keep so many beautiful and powerful women at his side and in his bed. Rumors abounded that Jordan herself would become his next wife and be given a position on his ruling council. Would she be asked to join the royal family? What would she do if she was?

  Trumpets sounded and the crowd stilled. The imperial wives entered the courtyard. They were followed by the ten children of the Imperial household, six servants who attended them, and a platoon of heavily armed and armored guards. The wives were seated near the podium where Jordan stood. All of them were beautiful, elegant, and regal. Jordan though it silly that any one would believe that the Emperor would want her when he had such women already.

  Shayal Atrava, the Emperor's first wife and his designated Empress sat in a chair that occupied a platform a meter higher than where the other wives sat. The Empress was a Princess of the Andrian Confederacy; the daughter of its current monarch, Galayen Atrava. It was through marriage to Shayal that Trent had allied himself with the Andrian Confederacy. She was young, slim, and carried herself with perfect poise that came from a life time of training. Her hair, like most Andrians, was lustrous and inky-black. She wore it at shoulder length and slightly curled. Her eyes were the lightest blue and shined with intelligence and wit.

  She was dressed in a flowing ankle-length white dress made of silk; or something like silk. It was trimmed in gold with a neckline that plunged nearly to her navel, showcasing cleavage that was perfectly proportioned to her body. There were slits on both sides of the dress that ended just above the knee that allowed ease of movement. It was backless down to the base of her spine. A necklace comprised of dozens of gemstones adored her throat; a single grape-sized, sapphire hung between her breasts. Jordan found herself jealous of the Empress' beauty and grace. She was still almost mesmerized watching her dance-like walk and the flow of the exquisite dress about her ankles.

  Jordan thought she should look at the other wives. She did not want inadvertently snub one of the Imperial family, but she seemed compelled to memorize every detail of Shayal's appearance. Jordan gasped when the Empress looked directly at her and smiled. It was a pleased, knowing smile. It also seemed to be a welcoming smile. It made Jordan feel like she was, or was about to be, a part of an exclusive club.

  More trumpets sounded, and Jordan finally forced her eyes away from Shayal. The Emperor came into the courtyard flanked by a twenty-being honor guard consisting of ten men and ten women. He was dressed in military uniform that shared the color-scheme of the Empress' gown. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and graceful in stride. His face was sculpted and confident, and his hair was a sun-lightened brown. It was cut short but was thick enough to blow slightly in the wind. Carol had always thought he was too handsome to be an Emperor. Rulers as effective and attractive as Nathaniel Trent only existed in fairy tales. But this was no fairy tale. The Emperor was only a few meters away, and his nation was prospering despite the efforts of more than a few enemies.

  The Emperor strode onto the podium, now only a meter or so away from Jordan. The wind carried the scent of his cologne to her nostrils. The scent was unique: sweet and almost unbearably masculine at the same time. The Emperor was giving an address to the crowd. Although he was speaking about her and recounting the events for which she was being rewarded, she was barely aware of his words. They seemed distant and unintelligible. What she could hear was the tone of his voice. It was deep and melodic and seemed to have physicality to it. It seemed to enter her brain through her ears and caress her mind. Added to this was a kind of vibration that seemed to emanate from the Emperor's body. (Vibration was an inadequate word, but she could think of none better.) A delicious tension began to build in her body. It was as though a lover had just indulged her in hours of expertly performed foreplay.

  Jordan blinked and the Emperor was standing before her; only half a meter or so from her. She had been lost in whatever power surrounded him, and had not realized that he had finished speaking. He was speaking directly to her now, holding her medal. Dimly, she realized that he was congratulating her on being decorated. She heard herself thanking him but she was not consciously forming the words. He placed the medal around her neck; lifting her dark, shoulder-length brown hair to place the purple ribbon the medal hung from beneath it. The sensation of his fingers running through her hair made her sigh very softly. The Emperor smiled knowingly and drew his hands down Jordan's neck after the medal was in place.

  Jordan was in another world. Just being in the Emperor's presence had made her burn with desire. The feel of his hands on the bare flesh of her neck had almost overwhelmed her. She was grateful that her knees had not buckled or that she had not pressed herself against the Emperor's body. Whatever power had seized her had seemingly rendered her incapable of movement. She felt as though she was being held in place by this odd erotic energy.

  The Emperor moved away, and Jordan came back to her senses slowly. That is, she could think clearly again, and she could move, but her body was still highly energized. It was not simple arousal; although that was a component of this what she was feeling. She was invigorated mentally and physically. She was simply feeling good!

  The feeling stayed with her through the reception that followed. Jordan spent the next few hours being imaged for the various press agencies, posing with various government officials and showing the people of the Dynasty their newest heroine. She tried her best to live up to the people's expectations and not to think about her upcoming meal with the royal family. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  Jordan studied herself in the full length mirror. After she had returned to the opulent, spacious quarters she had been assigned within the Royal palace, she had bathed, changed into a fresh uniform and was assuring herself that it she was now perfectly attired. She had gone to the extra effort of having this uniform custom tailored. It consisted of a blue tunic and slacks with gold braids and trim, with the jacket worn over a white blouse. It displayed six years worth of service ribbons on the right breast. Regulations gave female personnel the option of wearing slacks or a skirt, but Jordan always opted for slacks. The standard issue black shoes had been shined to a mirror finish. She fashioned her hair into a loose pony tail, and completed the ensemble by placing her Medal of Valor around her neck, closing her eyes at the memory of the Emperor's hands caressing her neck.

  She regarded herself one last time. She had never considered herself beautiful, but she was proud of her body. A daily regimen of swimming, yoga, and martial arts practice had given her a slim waist, well toned arms and legs, and tight shapely butt. She liked the way the tailored uniform made her look. She had even had one of the palace servants help her with her makeup. After all, one didn't share a meal with the royal family every night. Besides, she had to admit to herself, she wanted to be beautiful for the emperor.

  It was a silly thought, she knew. She could never hope to achieve the beauty and grace that the Empress had displayed earlier that day. There was no reason for the Emperor to give her more than a passing glance. Yet, he seemed to have deliberately caressed her neck, and seemed to be aware the effect he had had on her.

  The door chime sounded and Jordan was pulled away from the mirror. "Enter." She said.

  Two members of the Emperor's personal guard entered. Both were both young women. One was very tall with red hair. The other was shorter with deep-black hair. Both were well muscled and moved like cats. "Emperor Trent is ready
to receive you, Commander Jordan; if you would follow us please?" The taller guard said.

  Jordan followed. Her quarters were in the wing of the palace reserved for VIP guests. They had consisted of three rooms, and included a personal hot tub and spa, and a large fire place. The furniture was posh and soft, and the palace servants had responded to even her slightest whim. Compared to the four meter by four meter quarters on the cruiser she had served on, the luxury she had lived in over the past week seem shamefully decadent. Once they passed into the Palace's royal wing, however, her quarters seemed quite spartan.

  Paintings, statues and various works of art lined the hallways. Marble columns held up vaulted ceilings. Polished floors made exotic woods were underfoot, and guards adored in ceremonial swords and armor stood posts every twenty feet. Finely carved hardwood doors were inlaid with gold and silver, and windows five meters long were spaced at intervals. This all served to make Jordan's nervousness return. Her hands were shaking again as she approached the double doors that led to the Royal Family's apartments.

  The guards opened the doors and stepped aside so Jordan could enter. Upon stepping over the threshold she was greeted by the Empress herself. Jordan suddenly felt overdressed. The Empress was dressed in simple pale-blue frock and was barefoot. She touched Jordan on both shoulders and smiled broadly. "Carol, welcome to our home," She said, taking Jordan by the arm and leading further into the Imperial quarters.

  "Thank you Empress." Jordan Stammered.

  "Call me Shayal."

  Jordan surveyed the room she had been led into. It was obviously the primary living area. It was round, two tiered, and arranged in concentric circles. The lower tier was reached by descending five steps from the upper tier. It was furnished with four semi-circular sofas arranged in a circle facing each other, two large crescent-shaped hardwood coffee tables in front of the sofas, and several richly padded reclining chairs. A large circular fire place dominated the center.

  The upper tier was surrounded by a panoramic window that provided a view of the palace's expansive gardens. There were several sets of luncheon tables and chairs where one could dine and view the gardens, as well as six lounge chairs and a massage table that were placed where the sun would shine on them for most of the day. The surroundings were certainly comfortable, but they lacked the opulence of the corridors Jordan had just walked through.

  The Emperors wives all rose to greet Jordan. They were dressed for comfort as Shayal was. "Carol, this is Sandra," Shayal said gesturing to a tall blond woman wearing a dark blue silken robe that just covered her knees. "Sandra is Field Marshal of all Dynastic armed forces."

  Jordan knew what rank Sandra held, but was grateful for Shayal's reminder. It allowed her time to deal with her growing confusion "Nice to meet you Ma'am," Jordan replied.

  "Sandra," the blond woman said. "There are no ranks or formalities in this household. It is our home and should be comfortable and welcoming."

  Jordan was introduced, in turn, to the other wives. Each was quite beautiful and each held a key position in the Emperors government. They were wearing various loose fitting, light clothing and were all barefoot as was the Andrian custom when at home. She realized that she herself was over dressed. She had assumed that a dinner would be a formal affair and had dressed accordingly. She felt the flush of embarrassment come to her face.

  "I apologize Emp...Shayal; I thought dinner would be a formal affair." Jordan explained.

  "How would get to know each other that way?" Shayal asked. "You are a guest in our home and we want you to be at ease."

  "The uniform has to go." Another blond woman said. She was slightly shorter than Sandra, and her hair was a lighter, almost golden, shade of blond. An ultra sheer toga-like gown obscured, but did not hide her body. Jordan recognized her as Auril: the chief of the Dynastic Intelligence and Security service. "She'll never relax in that."

  "I think we can find something for her to wear," a voluptuously built brunet said stepping forward. She was dressed a sheer black robe that extended to her mid thigh.

  "I'm Kalin," the brunet said taking Jordan in a sisterly embrace. "Let's get you into something comfortable."

  Within a few minutes Jordan found herself in room that was stocked with hundreds of fine dresses and gowns and equipped with several dressing tables. Kalin and some servants helped her change into a loose fitting pale-blue dress made of satin. It left her shoulders and most of her back bare and was secured only by a thin strap around her neck, and gold-inlaid rope belt. It left most of her cleavage open to view; barely covering her nipples. The hem ended millimeters above her knees. No shoes were offered.

  Kalin carefully looked Jordan up and down. "There, now you can enjoy the evening."

  In truth, Jordan felt a bit self-conscious. The dress was attractive but very revealing. She said nothing, however, not wanting to seem ungrateful for her host's hospitality. "Thank you General."

  "Call me Kalin. When you are in the family's quarters, always use first names, and that includes Nathaniel." Kalin said, touching Jordan on both shoulders. She looked at Jordan and smiled. "Nathaniel will love you in this, and your medal is the perfect accessory," she added, placing the medal back around Jordan's neck.

  Kalin led Jordan over to a full length mirror. "Look at yourself; beautiful, just beautiful." Kalin prompted. "We know you have endured much pain, but that is over now," she said kneading Jordan's shoulders gently from behind. "You are tense and tired, but we will soon fix that."

  Time seemed to stop as Kalin's skilled hands worked the tension out of Jordan's neck and shoulders. After what seemed like all too brief a time receiving such attention Jordan's solace was interrupted. "That was wonderful."

  "I'm glad to have helped," Kalin replied. "When Nathaniel tends to you tonight, you will feel as though you are floating on air."

  "The Emperor will tend to me?" Jordan asked, her voice week with a mix of confusion and anticipation.

  "Oh yes," Kalin said running a hand down Jordan's bare right arm. "You have served his Dynasty well, and endured a great deal of pain on his behalf. Nathaniel will want to help you heal."

  "But I've already been cleared for duty by medical." Jordan remarked.

  "Your body has healed most satisfactorily, but what of the mind? What of the spirit?" Jordon was silent. Did they know about the nightmares and the flash backs? Did they know she saw the crewman she failed to save as the bridge burned lurking in the shadows and waiting to punish her failure? Did they understand the guilt she felt at having survived the destruction of her ship? Could they all see how weak she truly was?

  "Come," Kalin urged. "We will have some wine and talk. You need to get to know the family."

  The wine was very good. Jordan soon found it hard to believe that she was surrounded by the most powerful women in the Dynastic government. She found herself speaking freely about her past and family. She listened to tales told by the Emperor's wives. The environment was easy and jovial. She was at ease among friends and laughing heartily after hearing a tale of Sandra's time as a fleet cadet, when the Emperor arrived.

  "Wait until you hear how she got herself out of that mess," Nathaniel Trent said as he entered the room. He was dressed in an ensemble that seemed like a cross between silk pajamas and a karate gi.

  It was sleeveless with the front of the tunic open enough to expose the front of his torso from his neck to a point just above his naval and tied with a black sash. The top was white and the pants were black. Jordan made no attempt to hide admiration. He was regal and handsome. His smile was open and genuine. He was well-muscled and his muscled formed smooth graceful curves as the flowed into one another. He had just a hint of a sun tan and the slightest, barely visible, sprinkle of hair on his chest. The word magnificent came to Jordan's mind.

  The wives all rose and gathered around him; each received a kiss and a hug in greeting. "Hello Carol," the Emperor said as he moved to greet her, his eyes holding her gaze in a way that seemed very intimate.


  Jordan realized that she should rise to meet the monarch, and just managed to push herself up from the sofa she had been sitting on. By the time she had stood up fully, the Emperor was standing just half a meter in front of her. He took her hands lightly in his and kissed the back of each hand. His eyes still locked on hers. "Welcome to my home."

  Jordan drew a breath and fought to keep it from turning into a raspy sigh. "Thank you Sire."

  "Nathaniel." He reached behind her head and freed her hair from the elastic band that held it in the ponytail. His fingers combed through her hair until it was falling loosely about her shoulders. He caressed the sides of her neck again, making her recall her experience on the podium earlier that day.

  "Nathaniel," she finally managed to say, forcing her mind to clear slightly.

  "Let's eat," The Emperor pronounced, leading Jordan down a corridor into a tastefully decorated dining room. He ushered her to a chair on the left side of the table's head, then seated each of his wives before taking his seat at the head of the table with Jordan at his left and Shayal to his right.

  The meal was sumptuous and perfectly prepared. In minutes Jordan was again at ease. The conversation seemed to revolve around family issues that would be spoken of at any family's dinner table; if the table included a dozen or so co-wives and ten children of various ages. At the end of the meal the Emperor rose to make a toast.

  "To Commander Carol Jordan: may she find peace and love." The Emperor raised his glass as his toast was repeated.

  Jordan was silent. She tried to accept the honor graciously, but it seemed to be an oddly familiar sentiment for the occasion. All she could do was accept it, though. As open and approachable as they were, they were still the royal family. Questioning their hospitality would be the height of impropriety.