Nothing in Lisette Joyaux's early life foretold that she would become handsome, young Jacques Duverneuil's bride and then love-slave. Lisette Joyaux was born in the province of Normandy, in the little resort village of Piemonieux, and there she spent her girlhood.
This simple sentence tells everything and nothing about the naive young beauty. In order to comprehend the remarkable circumstances that occurred in the very first year of that seemingly fortuitous marriage, one must know what preceded it: Without that history, there would be only the most banal of stories to tell.
Lisette was born to affluent parents then in their mid-thirties. Her father, Daniel Joyaux, was a gentleman farmer who was left a considerable estate and fortune by his father, who had been a retired sea captain in the French merchant fleet. Daniel and his blond wife Amalie fell in love during their school days and married early.
But despite their passionate love for one another, fortune did not provide them with a child until after a dozen years of marriage, when they despaired of ever having offspring. One can understand, therefore, how they viewed the lovely Lisette as a gift from above.
Lisette inherited her mother's beauty and her father's patrician elegance. But, in addition, she possessed a most ingenuous mind and personality. And again, we may thank providence for measuring out precisely the ingredients that made Lisette what she was, for if she claimed more beauty or more sophistry, again there would be no story to relate.
There was nothing in Lisette's childhood to indicate the path she would take in her later life. Her loving parents lavished every affection and gift upon this dear girl, and they employed a diligent and sympathetic governess who never spoke a harsh word to her precious ward, even in the event of misbehavior. By the time she was eighteen, she knew as much about punishment as she did about lovemaking, which is to say, nothing. However, her destiny was being shaped by the grim fates who measure out and cut the thread of life for all mortals.
The skein of her life was tied up with that of her parents, for in the summer of her eighteenth year, her father and mother were both killed and Lisette Joyaux was sent to live with an elderly aunt. The woman was twenty years older than her sister, Lisette's mother. In addition, she was a decided spinster.
Hortensia Clomaris was gentle with Lisette, more than was perhaps good for the young girl. Also, since she had never before experienced the joys and sweet pangs of motherhood, the spinster doted on her little niece and lavished much affection upon her. She employed an old gossipy housekeeper, a Madame Perichaud, who cooked the meals and tended to the cleaning and other domestic chores. And often Madame Perichaud would scold her mistress and complain, "That little brat deserves a good smacking on her bare backside, but you smile and give her a sweetmeat instead! "spare the rod and spoil the child," I say, and I will say it a thousand times more!"
At such complaints, the spinster would smile and gently shake her head. "Mais pas de tout, my dear Madame Perichaud," she would sigh. "This is not my child, but one who is lent to me for a little while. I would not punish her for the world!"
Perhaps the old housekeeper's grumblings were prophetic, considering what was to happen to lovely Lisette Joyaux. Nevertheless, Lisette's saucy posterior remained untouched by aunt or housekeeper, even when she committed an unhappy prank one memorable afternoon. While playing, the precious girl juggled some of her aunt's best china plates, smashing three of them in the process. While the furious housekeeper spluttered ineffectually, Aunt Hortensia only gave Lisette a mild talking-to, leaving the sensitive girl almost in tears. Such then was the manner of Lisette Joyaux's puberty. But all this changed upon the remarkable and delicious summer of her eighteenth year. And, indeed, it was a delicious time, with Lisette's ripening body and blossoming beauty showing promise of the woman soon to be! She stood a medium height and wound her golden hair in two thick braids, even though Madame Perichaud grumbled that only peasant children wore such ludicrous pigtails. Her face was heart-shaped-open, soft, and bright, like an April flower with its petals turned toward the sun. Her eyes-so large and widely spaced-were the color of a cloudless sky. Her nose rested straight and dainty beneath the blue eyes. It tilted upward, but only slightly, and her nostrils possessed a curious flare, as if the girl were constantly inquisitive or excited. Her mouth was made for kissing, one might say, with its lower lip somewhat plumper than the upper. A dimple adorned her rounded chin. More dimples brightened her rounded cheeks. And her skin? Lisette Joyaux's skin glowed the color of freshly skimmed milk, so satiny smooth and flawless! It was skin any aristocrat would envy and desire. She possessed the sweet face of a freshly scrubbed milkmaid, but Lisette Joyaux was equally delectable of figure. The thighs on her long legs curved fully, voluptuously-like those of a woman. Her buttocks, upstanding and rounded, were shadowed with that enticing furrow between them. It was a bottom meant for caressing or whipping - or both!
Her young breasts were developing, too. They perched high and firm and wide apart on her milky chest and were pinkly tipped with little nipple buds. A slim waist curved to the smooth belly marked by a niche of navel. And beneath the suave pelvic basin nestled the golden-thatched temple of her virginity. And in this, her eighteenth summer, Lisette Joyaux little suspected she was about to embark upon an adventure - an adventure that would introduce her virginal charms to the most voluptuously acute of pleasures!
