Gifts are not requests.
They’re expectations. Extensions of obedience. Silent proof that you know your place without needing direction. I shouldn’t have to ask. I shouldn’t have to post. I shouldn’t have to spell it out.
You should already be watching.
You should know that Wishlist Wednesday is not about permission—it’s about precision. About acting before I even look in your direction. About studying what I want, what I’ve added, what’s missing—and making it arrive without delay, without fanfare, without a single word from me.
Because that’s what luxury looks like: ease. Flow. Absence of effort. I don’t perform for parcels. I don’t praise packages. I expect them. And the ones who get it? They send without comment. They click buy and feel their cock twitch knowing something is on its way to me… and they won’t see it. They won’t see me wear it. Use it. Touch it. They’ll only know it’s mine.
And that’s enough.
You want attention?
Send something worthy of it.
You want to feel useful?
Surprise me.
Wishlist Wednesday isn’t a hint. It’s a checkpoint. You either prove you’ve been paying attention—or you quietly get left behind by someone who has.