Phyllis Has a Plan To Become Rich: Part 1 (Patreon)

Phyllis pushed open the creaky door of the antique store, the bell above it giving a tired jingle. Saturday stretched ahead with nothing planned, so she wandered the narrow aisles lined with faded furniture and cracked porcelain.

Dust floated in the weak light from the front windows. She kept her hands in her pockets, moving slowly past stacks of old books and tarnished silverware.

At the rear of the store she found a narrow alcove half-hidden behind a tall display case. The space felt more private, the shelves lower and the lighting dimmer.

She stepped in and froze. The entire back wall was lined with rows of antique and ancient sex toys—ivory dildos carved with intricate patterns, wooden plugs polished smooth by time, brass rings and leather straps, glass phalluses etched with symbols from long-dead cultures. Some looked centuries old, their surfaces worn and discolored.

Phyllis felt heat rise in her cheeks. She glanced over her shoulder even though she knew no one was watching. Her eyes moved from one object to the next. A thick ivory piece with a flared base caught her attention; the carving along its length looked deliberate and intimate.

Next to it sat a set of small bronze balls connected by a chain, their surfaces engraved with tiny figures. She leaned closer, studying the details without touching anything.

Her fingers twitched at her sides. She shifted her weight, thighs pressing together for a moment before she forced herself to stand still. Another shelf held a long, curved wooden shaft with a bulbous head and a handle wrapped in faded silk.

She imagined the weight of it in her hand. Her face grew warmer. She took one slow step along the wall, scanning every piece, unable to look away even as her pulse quickened.

Phyllis lingered in the dim alcove, her gaze drifting along the lower shelf until it landed on a strange iron chastity cage. The device looked heavy, its metal bands dark with age and faintly etched with symbols.

A small key dangled from a medallion attached to the top, the medallion holding a thick, opaque black circle that resembled obsidian. The surface seemed to pull her attention, the way light caught inside it making the circle appear deeper than it should. She stepped closer, studying the cage’s curved bars and the lock mechanism.

She reached out and found two small buttons set into the upper band. She pressed the first one, then the second. Nothing happened—no click, no sound. She tried again, slower this time, but the cage remained inert.

After a moment she set it back on the shelf, the price tag of ten dollars still visible. She only had five in her purse and she needed clothes more than anything else right now.

Phyllis turned to leave the alcove when a soft voice came from behind her.

"I saw you eyeing the medallion and cage."

She spun around. An older woman stood a few feet away, her posture relaxed, eyes steady. Phyllis felt her cheeks flush again.

"Yes," she answered quietly. "It’s hard to take my eyes off it."

The older woman studied Phyllis with a calm, knowing smile. "I’ll let it go for ten dollars," she said softly.

Phyllis felt her stomach drop. She opened her purse to show the single five-dollar bill inside, but when she looked down she froze. Two crisp extra fives now lay on top of the original one. Her fingers trembled as she pulled out two of them and handed them over.

"Great," the woman said, accepting the money. "But I should warn you—it can be a tricky item."

"How so?" Phyllis asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Every time you press the right button you’ll gain five dollars, but you can’t get anything for free. The money will come, yet it has a price."

Phyllis lifted the medallion again and pressed the button twice. Another two five-dollar bills appeared in her purse. Her heart raced. She pictured clicking again and again, buying new clothes, paying bills, never worrying about money again.

The woman’s voice cut through the fantasy. "After ten clicks the money stops unless you lock that chastity cage on the one you love. Every click after that still gives you five dollars, but the cage stays locked for an extra 5 minutes each time. The person you love will stay locked inside, unable to orgasm. It becomes a test—your desire for money versus your love for them. If you tell anyone, the magic will stop forever. Once you unlock him, the magic will stop forever.."

Phyllis stared at the iron cage and the black obsidian circle on the medallion, her cheeks burning as the older woman’s words sank in.

Phyllis stepped into the cramped, damp bedroom of her rundown family home, the air thick with mildew. She set the heavy iron chastity cage on her narrow bed, the attached medallion with its black obsidian circle resting beside it.

Opening her purse, she stared at the stack of five-dollar bills that had appeared from the clicks. The sight made her pulse quicken.

"For every five minutes he's locked in this thing, I get five dollars," she whispered to herself. "One thousand four hundred and forty dollars a day..." The number looped in her head.

She pictured new clothes, paying bills, escaping the poverty that clung to her. Yet the store owner's warning echoed: once unlocked, the medallion would never grant money again.

She sat on the edge of the bed, fingers tracing the cold metal bars of the cage. How much money was enough? The question repeated as she weighed the cage's weight against the promise of endless bills.

Her cheeks flushed at the thought of locking her boyfriend inside it, denying him release while the money flowed. She turned the medallion over in her hands, the obsidian circle catching what little light filtered through the cracked window.

How much money would be enough?