She came from a small village on the outskirts of Istanbul and had three brothers and watched as they grew up. She wanted to be like them, strong, and...wear trousers with her hair cut short but her mother made her wear dresses that she'd made from an old rag when she was just a child. As Leyla started puberty, she'd strap down her growing bosoms with a bandage and stuff a pair of socks down her knickers, and pretended she had a boys' penis. But she was struck by her mother when she was caught.. " That's because ordinary people regard rape not as a traumatic experience, a heinous assault, but as something shameful. Ever lurking in the back of their little minds is the thought that perhaps the victim brought it on herself. Maybe she provoked the assault. Perhaps her clothes were too revealing, thus maddening the rapist into a dastardly deed. As if! And because these terrible events are mishandled by those who ought to know better, the shame and the rejection become indelibly fixed in. "I love you. I need you."Jonelle smiled, then looked around anxiously. "You know Yvette Farmer?" she asked, forehead wrinkled.Uh oh, Laura thought. What had Yvette been up to?"Yes, I know her. We worked together once on a project. Why?"Jonelle pouted, looking troubled. "Oh, nothing. She said something... weird, that's all."Laura dared to drop one hand down to Jonelle's desk and curl a finger around hers. "I need to see you." Then with her mouth she again made the words I love you.Jonelle would. "We'll have to buy you a bra first, I think," Mom decided, and we both looked down at my tits."Do I have to wear one?" I asked her, cupping my breasts through my blouse and they were nice and ripe, and super firm."Sometimes," she said. "You're about all grown up now, Kim." I hope so!" I thought I looked about perfect with my new tits. Theresa would be so jealous when she saw me!"Hmmm..." The lady measuring me nodded her head. "Thirty-two inches exactly and let me measure across your nipples,.