The truck hit me at exactly 11:47 PM.
I remember because I'd just checked my phone, scrolling through another batch of hentai doujins while waiting for the light to change.
Truck-kun, the legendary transporter of degenerates like me, had finally come calling. The last thing I saw was the driver's panicked face through the windshield.
Then darkness.
Then... sensation.
"Sir Damien! Sir Damien, you must wake!"
My eyes snapped open. Sunlight streamed through ornate windows, and a young man in servant's livery stood over me, face etched with concern.
But more interesting than him was the flood of memories that weren't mine—years of sword training, palace protocols, and absolute loyalty to Prince Adrian.
Fuck. I actually got isekai'd.
"I'm fine," I said, sitting up. My voice was deeper, rougher. Looking down, I saw a body that definitely wasn't mine—muscled, scarred, wearing the black and gold uniform of the Royal Guard. "What happened?"
"You collapsed during morning drills, sir. The physician said it was exhaustion." The servant—Thomas, my new memories supplied—wrung his hands. "The prince has been asking for you."
I waved him off. "Tell His Highness I'll report within the hour."
As Thomas scurried away, I took stock. I was Damien Farley, 28, elite bodyguard to the crown prince. This body was a weapon—trained, disciplined, trusted. The original Damien had been utterly loyal, borderline celibate, dedicated to duty.
Well, that was about to change.
I stood, testing my new body's limits. Strength, speed, reflexes—all superior to my old flesh. And speaking of flesh... my cock was proportionally improved too. The original Damien had ignored it, but I had very different plans.
The palace sprawled before me as I made my way to the prince's chambers. Servants bowed, guards nodded respectfully. I had access, authority, and anonymity. Perfect hunting grounds.
Then I saw her.
Queen Seraphina glided down the corridor like sex incarnate. Mid-thirties, golden hair piled high, wearing a deep blue gown that hugged curves that belonged on a woman half her age. Her beauty was legendary, but it was her untouchable aura that made my cock twitch. The perfect wife, the perfect queen, the perfect target.
"Sir Damien." She acknowledged me with a regal nod.
"Your Majesty." I bowed, letting my eyes linger just a second too long on her cleavage.
She didn't notice. Why would she? Loyal Damien had never shown interest in women.
But as she passed, leaving a trail of expensive perfume, I smiled. The original Damien's memories included late-night patrols, secret passages, and most importantly—which rooms were never guarded at certain hours.
---
Three Nights Later
The palace slept, but I prowled. My patrol route conveniently took me past the queen's private study—a room she often used for late-night reading. The king was away on campaign, had been for two months. A lonely queen, an empty bed, and me with a master key.
But I needed leverage. Raw seduction might work on a chambermaid, but not on royalty.
That's when I heard it. Soft moans from behind the study door.
I pressed against the wood, listening. Definitely the queen's voice, but she wasn't alone. A man's grunt, flesh slapping flesh. My cock hardened as I carefully tried the handle—unlocked. Sloppy.
The door opened silently on well-oiled hinges. There, bent over her own desk, was Queen Seraphina getting railed by General Marcus—her husband's most trusted commander. Her perfect face was twisted in pleasure, royal dignity forgotten as she pushed back against each thrust.
"Harder," she gasped. "Fuck me harder, Marcus!"
I pulled out my phone—yes, somehow I still had it, probably some transmigration perk—and started recording. The angle was perfect: her face clearly visible, his military insignia gleaming, the royal seal on the wall behind them.
"I'm close," Marcus grunted. "Where do you want it?"
"Inside," she moaned. "Fill me up. I want to feel you dripping out of me all day tomorrow."
Jackpot.
I recorded him pumping her full, captured her shuddering orgasm, then slipped away before they finished. The video was crystal clear, audio perfect. Enough to destroy a dynasty.
But I didn't want destruction. I wanted domination.
---
The Next Night
"Your Majesty requested chamomile tea?" I entered her study without knocking, tray in hand.
Queen Seraphina looked up from her book, startled. "I didn't—Sir Damien? What are you doing here?"
I set the tray down, then locked the door behind me. Her eyes widened.
"We need to discuss last night, Your Majesty."
"I don't know what you mean." But her face had gone pale.
I pulled out my phone, showed her a screenshot—her face mid-orgasm, Marcus clearly visible behind her. "General Marcus has quite the stamina. Though I wonder what the king would think about his trusted friend's... deep loyalty to you."
The book fell from her hands. "You wouldn't dare."
"Wouldn't I?" I sat in the chair across from her, spreading my legs wide. "Your husband returns in three weeks. Imagine his homecoming gift—evidence of your adultery, delivered by his most trusted bodyguard."
"What do you want?" Her voice was barely a whisper. "Gold? Lands? A title?"
"Pour me tea."
She blinked. "What?"
"You heard me. Pour. Me. Tea."
Her hands shook as she reached for the pot. The queen of the realm, serving me like a common maid. My cock throbbed.
"Good girl." I sipped slowly, watching her flinch at the praise. "Now come here."
"Sir Damien—"
"That wasn't a request."
She stood on unsteady legs, approaching like a condemned woman to the gallows. When she was close enough, I grabbed her wrist, pulled her onto my lap. She gasped, struggling briefly before remembering the video.
"You smell good," I murmured, nuzzling her neck. "Like expensive perfume and cheap sex."
"Please—"
"Shh." I gripped her chin, forcing her to meet my eyes. "Here's what's going to happen. You're going to kiss me. You're going to do it like you mean it. And then we're going to discuss your new duties."
"I'm your queen—"
"You're an adulterous whore who's about to become my personal plaything." I squeezed her ass through the silk gown. "Now kiss me before I decide to send that video tonight."
She leaned in hesitantly, lips barely brushing mine. I laughed.
"I said kiss me, not play virgin bride. You didn't have any trouble shoving your tongue down Marcus's throat."
Her second attempt was desperate, passionate—anything to appease me. I took control immediately, tongue invading her mouth, claiming it. She tasted like wine and fear, a delicious combination. My hand found her breast, squeezing roughly through the fabric.
When I finally released her, she was panting, lips swollen. "There. Was that so hard?"
"What else do you want?" Tears gathered in her eyes.
"Everything." I stood, lifting her easily and setting her on the desk—the same desk where Marcus had fucked her. "But let's start simple. Spread your legs."
"I can't—my husband—"
"Your husband is hundreds of miles away. And you didn't seem to care about him last night." I pushed her knees apart, silk gown riding up to reveal she wore nothing underneath. "No panties? Were you hoping Marcus would visit again?"
She turned her face away, but I gripped her chin, forcing her to watch as I knelt between her thighs. "Keep your eyes on me, Your Majesty. I want you to remember who owns this royal cunt now."
My tongue found her already wet. Whether from fear, arousal, or lingering traces of Marcus's cum, I didn't care. I ate her like a man starved, using every technique from my previous life's extensive porn education. Her resistance crumbled as I sucked her clit, two fingers pumping into her soaked pussy.
"No... please... I can't..." But her hips were rolling, grinding against my face.
I pulled back just before she came. "Beg."
"What?"
"Beg me to finish. Tell me you need it."
"I'm your queen!"
"You're my whore. Now beg, or I leave you like this and send the video."
She broke. "Please... please finish..."
"Please what?"
"Please make me cum!" The words tore from her throat.
I dove back in, tongue and fingers working furiously. She came with a scream, squirting all over my face, royal dignity drowning in her own juices. I didn't stop, forcing her through multiple orgasms until she was sobbing, begging me to stop instead.
Finally, I stood, wiping my face with her discarded shawl. "Good girl. You're learning."
She lay sprawled on the desk, gown bunched around her waist, pussy glistening and swollen. The perfect picture of debauchery.
"Tomorrow night," I said, adjusting my obvious erection. "Your chambers. Wear the crown and nothing else."
"I can't—the servants—"
"You'll figure it out. Unless you'd prefer I share your performance with the court?" I headed for the door, pausing to look back. "Oh, and Seraphina? Next time I won't stop at just my tongue. Better prepare that royal cunt for a real fucking."
I left her there, used and humiliated, already planning tomorrow's conquest. The queen was just the beginning.
This palace would be my playground, and every woman in it would learn to serve their new master.
Starting with the queen who thought she was untouchable.
God, I love being isekai'd.