The Prize

By J G Willette

When Mister Donovan invited young Madeline to attend a special lodge meeting she thought she knew what lay in store for her but the reality behind their esoteric rituals could be more than she bargained for. Madeline was more than a mere guest - she was The Prize.

This is one of many stories and novellas from the collected writings of J. G. Willette, an investment banker who took his own life after the market crash of 1929. these stories are very much of their time in the early part of the twentieth century but the passion for fetish and kink remains as timely and relevant as if written today. Willette has a knack for writing arousing and revealing literature. This is high quality smut.

Also included is a preview of Willette's searing novella: The Playroom.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mirabilia Novum
• Release date: Jan 5, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311076069

J G Willette

Jefferson Graydon (J. G.) Willette was an investment banker during the 1920's. The market crash of 1929 toppled many fortunes, including his own. After vainly trying to save his family fortune Willette committed suicide by drinking iodine. He left behind a mountain of debt and a small locked trunk filled with a trove of letters, photographs and personal writings.Within this trunk was a smaller, tightly wrapped, bundle of papers which (after many years of neglect) were finally examined by his last surviving heirs. They were discovered to be a collection of unpublished erotica written by J. G. Willette himself.The contents of the stories and unfinished novels contained in this collection would have been considered scandalous in the early part of the twentieth century but, fortunately, with the passage of time the mores of society have shifted and evolved. Our great thanks go to the remaining family of Willette in granting us the license to publish these stories. They are a remarkable glimpse into the times within he worked and lived; and they remain as tantalizing and arousing as they no doubt were when he first set pen to paper.We don't the know the full story behind J. G. Willette and his bawdy tales of submission and discipline but we're sure you'll enjoy exploring his world as much as we have.

Book preview

THE PRIZE

by

J. G. Willette

Published by Mirabilia Novum at Smashwords

Copyright 2016 Mirabilia Novum Publishing

Discover other Mirabilia Novum titles at https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/mirabilianovum

THE PRIZE

Madeline stopped short at the doorway.

The Lodge was a nondescript stone building tucked away at the end of a dark tree lined lane, hidden from view to anyone passing on the main street.  The old slate roof hung like a shadow above the building.  The architecture of the building provided for windows but each stone portal had been bricked over and painted to match the stone facade of the structure.  Above the large front doors was an ornate carving of a pyramid, encircled by a snake devouring itself and in the center was a single eye.  The doors were heavy oak, studded with large iron rivets, fitted with two heavy handles and a massive knocker fashioned from an iron ring with a large sphere hung on the end.  A small brass plate above the knocker read simply:

FAC QUID VIS

Mister Donovan gently touched Madeline's elbow and asked:  Are you afraid, my dear?

No.  Not afraid.  It's just ...

Yes?

Mister Donovan was a slender elderly gent, a member of the local Chamber of Commerce who used to run an antiquarian bookstore on the other side of town.  He was dressed in a neatly pressed suit, a little old fashioned with his wing tip collar; the dark homburg rested on the back of small head, exposing his narrow lined face to the moonlight.

Madeline was a tall, thin young woman with pale perfect skin and a bundle of writhing red hair slung across her back.  She wore a long black overcoat and a pair of high heeled pumps but did not carry a bag.  She studied the carving above the door.

It's just ... I've never been to a place like this before.

Perfectly understandable, my dear.

Will I have to wear a silly hat?

Excuse me?

Madeline turned and saw a despairing look of confusion on Mister Donovan's face and quickly leaned forward with a smile.

Do you wear hats at your meetings?

Mister Donovan's look of concern and confusion was replaced with one of embarrassment and he made a great show of studying his shoes as he spoke.

Yes.  We have hats.  Fezzes, to be exact.  And we wear ceremonial robes.  But your role this evening will not require you to be so adorned.

Madeline took his hand reassuringly.

I'm not having second thoughts, Mister Donovan.  Truly I am not.  I was just curious.

Relieved. Mister Donovan looked up and met Madeline's clear blue eyes and managed a soft smile.

I'm glad to hear that, my dear.  Now we should proceed.  These rituals I described to you must occur at the proper hour.

Madeline leaned her head down to his bony shoulder.

We mustn't keep the membership waiting then.

Quite so.  Quite so.

Mister Donovan stepped forward to the door, grasped the large knocker with both hands and rapped against the solid oak three times.  The door swung inward almost immediately and a voice from the shadows intoned the ritual greeting.

Who asks for entry?