Hannah had to close her eyes as he stared at her, wrapping the leather tightly around her ankles.  Her heart was pounding hard enough that she was afraid she would faint.  The ankle was not an erogenous zone, but the sight and feel of him strapping her leg down was like the most intimate touch to Hannah.  And it was one she had never really felt, outside of one or two experiments years before she had become famous.  She knew he would feel her leg trembling in his hand but there was nothing she could do to stop it.<br/><br/>She opened her eyes as he took her arm, prepared for him to go to work on it.  But just as she turned her head slightly, her famous green eyes taking him in, he bent it quickly behind her.  It was enough to hurt a bit, and she knew that to cry out in pain and protest was the proper reaction.  The problem was, Hannah had never quite had the proper reaction to pain.<br/><br/>She cried out, but it was clearly not a cry of pain--well, not just pain.  Her body arched a bit on the table and felt herself breathing hard, his face looming above her.  She was already writhing a bit, and it was not from the touch on her thigh either, but from the way he twisted her arm and held it tight.  It made her wet and aroused as if he had stroked her innermost flesh.  She trembled the way a woman trembled when you first touched her sex, the way a man trembled when you first slid your soft hand down his soft hardness.  She didn't have to answer, she simply stared up at him, upside down, her full lips parted and her eyes bright with lust.