The Vampire Who Melted – 4/5

The entire hall was already intoxicated by a scent of desire, fruits, and pepper. Lucien, naked and surrendered at the center of the room, felt his body so on fire he could no longer form complete thoughts. It was as if the whole world now revolved only around Zafira's mouth, her tongue, her nimble hands, and that ruby stare that stripped him, devoured him, dominated him.

The other servants watched without shame, eyes fixed, restless bodies, each one reacting in their own way to a scene impossible to ignore.

But just as Lucien was on the verge of losing his mind for good, Zafira simply slid off his lap. The touch disappeared in an instant, the heat faded, and she stood up, adjusting her vinyl bodysuit as if she hadn't just set off a storm.

Lucien's breathing came in deep gasps, his skin still pulsing with desire. He felt his chest tighten, as if he'd taken an unexpected blow.

She cast him a lazy, satisfied glance, and spoke in a low, ironic voice,

"I think you're just about ready, count."

Her smile was pure provocation, a warning that the night was far from over.

Lucien tried to reach for her, hands trembling with need, but Zafira just turned her face away, smiling wickedly.

"Tonight is for experimenting… and for sharing pleasures."

The count opened his mouth, ready to protest, but only managed to moan, feeling his body beg for more, desperate for touch, while she was already reclaiming her role as queen of the hall.

With a flick of her fingers, she called one of the girls who was playing with ice cream near the carpet. It was the blonde maid, the one with the bold smile, tousled hair, and long legs, still sticky with sweetness, sweat, and desire.

Without hesitation, the girl drew closer, a daring sparkle in her eyes, and knelt between Lucien's legs, looking at Zafira for the order, but also seeking the count's approval.

"Take it slow," Zafira instructed, her voice rich with command and sweetness, "I want to see the count truly melt."

The blonde grinned, scooped a generous portion of ice cream, letting it drip between her fingers, and spread the cold mixture over the head of Lucien's shaft, making slow circles and sending shivers up his spine. Then she bent down, licking slowly, exploring every millimeter of his glans, savoring the contrast between the chill of the dessert and the heat of his skin. She closed her lips around him, sucking gently, as if she wanted to memorize the flavor forever.

The cold of the ice cream mixed with the heat of her touch, ripping a deep, involuntary moan from Lucien, who closed his eyes, arched his back, and simply gave in. The pleasure was so new, so intense, that he felt his legs trembling, his chest tightening, his whole body vibrating with need. His hips moved on their own, searching for more, his breathing unsteady, and each lick seemed to awaken even more hunger in the vampire.

Zafira crossed her arms, watching the scene with a look of pure satisfaction, her eyes attentive to every detail.

"Good girl," she praised, watching as the blonde became even bolder, sucking, swirling her tongue, making wet, hungry sounds, slathering the count's shaft even more with melted ice cream and saliva.

With every new lick, Lucien felt as if his body might explode with pleasure and embarrassment. All the servants were now paying attention, some laughing, others moaning, others simply hypnotized by the scene, their hands moving over thighs, butts, and nipples, the air thick with celebration.

On the other side of the hall, the green-eyed servant who had watched Lucien with longing from the beginning couldn't hide his desire any longer. He was stroking himself eagerly, biting his lip, staring hungrily at Lucien and the blonde, waiting for any signal to join in. His breath was loud, his chest rising and falling, every muscle ready to leap into the fun.

Zafira did not let his desire go unnoticed. She summoned him with a snap of her fingers and a teasing smile.

"Come here, handsome. Tonight is a party for everyone."

The boy didn't hesitate, approaching with eager steps, his body already trembling with anticipation. Zafira leaned over and whispered something low and dirty in his ear, making him smile in anticipation, his eyes burning with excitement.

He knelt beside the blonde, ran his hands along Lucien's hips, and, without waiting, started licking up the melted ice cream, alternating soft kisses, gentle bites, and little sucks around the vampire's shaft.

The atmosphere in the hall grew even hotter. The servants, drawn in by the spectacle, began touching each other, trading caresses, kisses, moans, and licking ice cream from the most daring places: necks, thighs, nipples, backs, feet, ears, fingers, even between their legs.

The magic of Gelato del Peccato made every touch and taste feel unique, more intense, more real. It was a mix of delirium and surrender, a whirlwind of pleasure and boldness impossible to resist.

Zafira, now at a distance, settled back on one of the highest armchairs, crossing her legs and watching it all like a satisfied queen at her own banquet. She smiled, ran her fingers through her hair, clearly enjoying the results of her temptation: Lucien surrendered, the servants in ecstasy, the hall transformed into a magical and liberating orgy. The power of seeing everyone collapse into pleasure was, for her, the true dessert, the greatest reward of the night.

Lucien could barely speak. Sensations tumbled together, his whole body crying for more, his mind now stripped of shame, filled only with need and thirst.

The blonde and the green-eyed boy took turns, switching between long licks and slow sucks, touching, caressing, nibbling gently, while other servants came closer, touching Lucien's shoulders, chest, thighs, sharing their heat and energy, all wanting a piece of that wild, magical vibration.

With each new provocation, Lucien felt the world melt a little more. He was outside himself, completely submissive to pleasure, with no pride, no masks, just one more body in the hurricane of desire sweeping through the hall.

For the first time, the count was master of nothing. He was only flesh, sweat, breath, and hunger, and everything there tasted of magic, of freedom, of sin.

At the center of the room, with the blonde and the green-eyed boy tending to him, Lucien found what he hadn't even known he was searching for: absolute surrender, the relief of simply letting go, the certainty that true pleasure doesn't need control.

And Zafira, atop her improvised throne, knew, with that sorceress's satisfied smile, that this was only the first of many unforgettable nights Gelato del Peccato would bring to that castle.