Ordered Harry to undress for the creature

Tlyer's grip on her waist tightened, a clear command that needed no words. "Take it off," he commanded, his voice a low growl that vibrated through her very core. "Show our guest what I paid for."

Harry's fingers fumbled with the delicate clasps of her sheer outfit, the fabric feeling like a barrier she wasn't ready to relinquish. But the cold was relentless, and Tlyer's patience was wearing thin. He gave her a rough shove, and she stumbled back, her back hitting the cold stone wall with a thud. The sheer fabric of her outfit offered little protection against the biting chill, and she could feel her nipples harden into painful peaks.

The dementor glided closer, its skeletal hands reaching for her. Harry's breath hitched as it loomed over her, its hooded face inches from her own. The scent of decay and despair filled her nostrils, a sickly sweet smell that made her stomach churn. She closed her eyes, trying to will herself away, to disappear, but the cold was a tangible presence, a weight that pressed down on her.

"Look at it," Tlyer ordered, his voice a harsh whisper. "Look at what's going to fuck you."

Harry's eyes snapped open, and she **** herself to meet the dementor's gaze. It's thick hung obsidian cock bobbing before her. The creature's skeletal hands reached out, and she braced herself for the touch, for the cold that promised to seep into her very soul.

But the touch never came. Instead, the dementor stopped, its head tilting to the side as if studying her. Tlyer's impatience was palpable, and he stepped forward, his hand wrapping around Harry's throat. "I said, look at it," he snarled, his fingers tightening. "I want you to see what going to be fucking you." His other hand taking off her slutty lingerie.

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