Buffy the Shemale Vampire Slayer Part 11

There was no answer.

She called her friend's name several more times, more loudly, but with the same result. The transparent Willow was nowhere to be seen or heard.

The air was freezing. Buffy's nipples were stiff and swollen, like her cock, but her scrotum had shrunken drawing tight against her body to warm her balls. Gooseflesh rose upon her arms, legs, and ass. The night had been dark on the plain, but there was light here; torches burned in sconces set along the front of the massive portico, enabling Buffy to see the structure before which she stood and the slopes of the ice mountains that fell sharply away on every side of the building. It was obvious that Willow had transported her to the great hall that Buffy had viewed from afar upon her arrival in this demon dimension. Most likely, she supposed, this was the demons' palace, where Willow was being held captive. Prior to entering the building, Buffy examined the portico. She'd learned that it seldom paid to rush into new situations. Sometimes, surveying one's surroundings provided important clues-sometimes not.

There were statues of naked men in alcoves between the doorways. Buffy looked at the niche that was closest to her. Its sculpture showed a handsome young man, hardly out of his teens, kneeling before an obese, older man. The youth was sucking the fat man's bloated cock. Tears streamed down his face. The title, etched in the pedestal, read, Initiation. The piece made Buffy feel uneasy. A deeper, implicit theme seemed to communicate itself subliminally through the scandalous work of art.

She looked at the statue that occupied the next alcove. It showed a man on his elbows and knees. Behind him, another man, with an immense, erect cock jutting from the tight curls of his marble pubic hair, knelt, ready to penetrate his eagerly waiting partner. Both men were smiling, but there was something more than lust in their expressions; there was a demonic undertone that implied that, in participating in this act, they were somehow party to something much more decadent. In the pedestal, the title of the work was carved in deep letters: Humiliation. Involuntarily, Buffy shuddered.