Hands Up

Harry needed to take the edge off.
He watched Charlotte apply her makeup, applying her blush with the delicacy of a feather. She blew a kiss at him.
“I was wondering what had happened to you? You have not called me in a long time!” she said.
Harry did not feel like engaging in conversation—that was why he called her. The only person he had wanted to talk to was Sabrina, and she has not called him back. He had no idea where she was, and he was feeling anxious.
Without any preamble, he stood behind Charlotte and placed his hands around her neck. She leaned into his touch.
“Tighter,” she said, reaching up and putting her hands over his.
He loved the feeling of her hands—her small, soft hands like she was a lady of leisure.
“No hands,” he said. “not your hands.”
Charlotte put her hands down, and his hands tightened around her throat. Her neck was small and soft like her hands. He could break her or kill her. Her life was in his hands, and he got a boner from it.
Just when he was afraid he would go too far, he let go of her neck and she rolled her head toward him. He raised her hands over her head.
“Keep them up, no matter what I do…” he said before he kissed her neck.
Charlotte was always obedient. He knew she would listen, but it did not stop him from raising her up by her hands. He made her face the wall, so she could not see anything he was going to do to her in advance. Her gasps turned him on, like when he slipped his fingers into her damp entrance. He was rough and she kept gasping, as she clawed the wall like she was climbing it.
She did not put her hands down, because he has told her not to.
He shoved his finger in and out of her until that was not enough and he put his dick in. Still mock climbing the wall, Charlotte lifted her leg like an animal in heat, and he pounded into her.
“Harder, fuck me harder,” she commanded, as she pounded the wall.
He did, he was going to whether she wanted it or not because he needed to fuck her hard. That was why he called her because he knew that she would want it as hard and rough as he needed it.
Harry liked seeing her faint nail polish on the wall from where she had been scratching the wall after. She was lying down on her bed in a puddle of her blanket. Her nakedness was enticing, but he wanted to go.
He had done what he needed.