Bury me as a dog,
Icy hands surrounding me-Rob Zombie, Superbeast.
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The Dementor's Kiss
The Dementor, paused for a moment, distended mouth poised over it's victim's, the human felt the hidious rattle of the creatures sigh, dank air reeking of death and madness whispering over his face as it exhaled, now preparing to inhale something more substantial than air in the next breath.
Clammy, dead flesh brushed warm, living skin as the Dark creature bent over the smaller human and clamped it's rotting mouth over it's victim's lips, lips firmly closed in a vain attempt to withhold their soul from the Dementor's claim. Jaws snapped shut like a steel trap, iron-hard toothlike edges slicing into flesh as the Creature of Darkness bit down hard, the pain forcing the human to commit a fatal mistake, they screamed in pain.
The Dementor's death grip tightened, swallowing the sceam and demanding more, draining the victim's lungs of air and still pulling for more.The human arched in agony against their captor, struggling madly against the iron grip those impossibly strong skeletal hands had on them. The aura of despair that surrounded the Dementor had been excited into a vortex of pain and despair around it and it's victim, a vortex capable of freezing the blood and sanity of any onlooker.
Few had ever witnessed the Dementor's kiss in any detail purely because most had fainted dead while witnessing the horror of the act, but the victim themselves, in the eye of the storm, was granted no such mercy. The Dementor refused to release it's captive, running a putrifying hand up to cup their face, holding them still in a grotesque parody of a lover's caress.
The victim, now feeling that their lungs would be torn loose and swallowed by the Dark Creature, felt the dreadful pull change, demanding something far more vital than breath from them, the pull working loose something tethered deep within them.
The next few seconds passed in an invisible battle between Dementor and victim, Dark Creature demanding that most neccessary to a living creature; the soul, human desperately refusing and struggling vainly against their captor.
Eventually, time varying but always inevitably, the victim would weaken their hold on their soul, usually due to asphixiation and the tearing pain of the creature's jaws and claws. Then, the victim arched backwards further than it seemed possible in a rictus of agony, a perfect gesture of submission as they gave up their soul to the ravanous appetite of the Dementor.
The victim slid out of the grip of the Dementor, a grasp now loosened by the sublime exctasy of devouring, to fall, like a stringless puppet, before the Dark Creature. Face slack and emotionless, eyes devoid of life; rolling sightlessly in their sockets like discarded marbles.
Aurors then came to take the agonised shell of the victim away and shoo the Dementor back to Azkaban until it was needed again to punish and to feed on emotions before it could consume something more substantial.
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Skull Bearer.