True Devotion (I’ll Never Be)… (2-8) – Commentary

Commentary (The Receipt)

If you’re here, you’ve probably already read True Devotion (I’ll Never Be…) and thought some version of:

“Oh. Okay. We’re going there.”

This piece is one of the few where I deliberately didn’t balance the perspective.

I wrote it almost entirely from your nervous system if you’re a sub, a little, a slave — and very intentionally not from mine.

I did that on purpose.

Most kink writing (especially from Tops) ends up very “both sides,” or it turns into a technical manual:

  • how to negotiate
  • how to scene
  • how to do aftercare

All of that is useful. But it leaves a gap:

The part where you’ve given someone your entire inner wiring and they walk away — and you don’t even feel “dumped,” you feel like the altar got left behind with you still kneeling in front of it.

That’s the heartbreak I was trying to pin down.

Why it sounds like grief instead of “growth”

This isn’t a motivational piece.

It’s grief.

It’s the kind of grief I’ve watched and heard in late-night messages for more than two decades of living this life — and, in my own ways, contributed to and stood on the edge of.

When I wrote lines like:

“My god left the building and forgot to take this altar with them.”

that was me putting language to what I’ve seen over and over:

  • Someone doesn’t just lose a partner.
  • They lose the organizing principle of how they’ve been living.
  • And the first person they put on trial is themselves.

Not the Dom.

Not the situation.

They look at their own devotion and go:

  • “I’m sick.”
  • “I’m broken.”
  • “I should’ve known better.”

There are a thousand threads out there about “fake doms,” “red flags,” “run from this.”

Necessary conversations.

What there’s not enough of is someone saying:

“You’re not insane for having loved this deeply through service and surrender.”

I wanted this piece to be the thing you can hand to someone and say:

“This is why I’m wrecked. This is what it cost me.”

Even if the person you hand it to has no idea what D/s means.

Why I focused so hard on subs, littles, slaves

Because they’re the ones who pay the emotional toll the longest when it goes wrong.

Not because Doms / Masters / Daddies don’t feel things. We do.

But there is an asymmetry baked into these roles:

  • You open more.
  • You reveal more “unflattering angles” of your soul.
  • You let someone else’s words and moods redefine your own sense of being “good” or “enough.”

When that person leaves — or checks out emotionally while still technically “there” — the fallout inside you doesn’t look like a clean breakup.

It looks like:

  • “Maybe I was too much.”
  • “Maybe I made them do this.”
  • “Maybe the thing that keeps me alive is exactly what makes me unlovable.”

That’s why the language is so heavy.

It’s not because I think you’re fragile — it’s because I know you’re built for devotion, and I don’t want that being treated like a punchline or a phase.

The piece is me saying:

“No. This is real. You are not crazy. You are not alone. And you are not disposable.”

For Doms, Masters, Daddies reading this

If you’re on the other side of the slash and you felt slightly called out:

Good.

But not in the “you’re trash” way.

In the “this is how big the thing is you’re holding” way.

I’m not writing this from some holy place where I’ve always done it right. I’ve worn the capital letters — Daddy, Dom, Master — for long enough, with enough people, to know exactly how easy it is to fuck this up.

I’ve:

  • ended dynamics messily
  • responded slower than I should
  • underestimated the depth of what I was holding

Part of why this piece exists is because I didn’t like all the ways my own track record looked when I held it up to the standard in my head.

I am not saying:

“If you can’t be this level of perfect 24/7, you don’t deserve a sub.”

I am saying:

“If you’re going to accept someone’s devotion at this depth, you owe it to both of you to understand what it does to them when you leave.”

At some point, I’d like to write the twin to this from the Dom / Daddy / Master side — not as a defense, but as a confession. This one needed to come first, because I haven’t seen this side of the story spelled out publicly by someone who carries those roles on purpose.

Sometimes walking away is the right thing:

  • your own mental health is on fire
  • you’re no longer capable of leading safely
  • the dynamic has turned toxic in ways no amount of aftercare can patch

But even then, you don’t get to pretend what you built was “just a thing.”

You don’t get to shrink it down to match your guilt tolerance.

You were their gravity.

Act like it, even on the way out.

At least, to the best of your abilities and the uniqueness of your situation.

Why aftercare shows up the way it does

The aftercare section is intentionally not cute-only.

Yes:

  • blankets
  • snackies
  • stuffies
  • cartoons

Those absolutely matter, especially for littles.

But the deeper aftercare is this:

“You showed me the part of you that keeps you alive and I’m still here. I still want you. I remember what we did and I’m not disgusted by you.”

That is the line I wrote this whole thing around.

Because when aftercare is missing, inconsistent, or minimized, what actually lands inside the sub/slave/little is:

“I was good enough to use but not good enough to stay with.”

If the piece hammered anything, I wanted it to be:

  • Aftercare is not a favor.
  • Aftercare is not “clinginess you tolerate.”
  • Aftercare is returning someone to themselves with care after you’ve taken them apart.

What “property” and “mine” mean to me

The end of the piece leans into property language on purpose.

Because there’s a HUGE difference between:

  • “You’re my property” as a horny tagline

vs

  • “You’re my property” as in:
    • I am accounting for you.
    • Your wellbeing is one of my ongoing responsibilities now.
    • I don’t get to randomly disappear when the emotional bill comes due.

When I say things like:

“If I accept that, your submission stops being a kink and becomes my direct responsibility.”

that’s not cosplay.

That’s me outlining the terms under which I’m willing to use words like Master and Owner.

Not just:

  • when you’re collared
  • when you’re on your knees
  • when it’s pretty and flattering

But:

  • when you’re messy
  • when you’re ashamed
  • when you’re crashed and convinced you’re “too much”

If I can’t hold that, I don’t deserve the title in the fun parts either.

That’s the standard I’m setting for myself, not just for “other people.”

I fail at it sometimes. I tighten it anyway.

Why I wrote this at all

Selfishly?

Because I was tired of seeing the people I care about feel:

  • insane
  • disposable
  • “too much”

for having reactions that are perfectly logical given the depth of the dynamic they were in.

Unselfishly?

Because I wanted you — if you’re a sub, little, slave — to have something you can:

  • show to a new partner
  • send to a vanilla friend as translation
  • reread after a crash and remember, “Right. This is why it hurts this way.”

And if you’re a Dom, Daddy, Master reading this commentary?

I want you to feel that slight weight in your chest that says:

“Okay. If I’m going to take this on, I am signing up for more than just the high points.”

That doesn’t mean martyrdom.

It doesn’t mean you never get to have needs or limits.

It just means you respect the people on the other end of your leash enough to treat their devotion like the live wire it is — not as a disposable power source.

That’s what this piece means to me.

It’s not a rulebook.

It’s not a threat.

It’s a reminder that real submission is sacred in a world that keeps trying to treat it like aesthetic.

And if you felt seen by it — on either side of the slash — then it’s doing its role.

On the companion track: “(I’ll Never Be) Maria Magdalena” – Sandra

At its core, “(I’ll Never Be) Maria Magdalena” is about a woman being pulled between extremes: saint and sinner, salvation and temptation, pedestal and punishment. She’s being talked about, claimed, judged, desired — and at the same time she’s saying, “I will never be this pure, holy thing you’re trying to turn me into.”

That tension is exactly what a lot of submissives, littles, and slaves live in:

  • On one side: the world that says, “Be normal. Be nice. Be reasonable. What you want is too much.”
  • On the other side: the dynamic that makes them feel more real than anything “normal” ever has.

The song lives in that split.

This piece does too.

When I say “true devotion,” I’m not talking about being anyone’s saint. I’m not interested in sanitized, socially acceptable affection that never risks anything real. I’m talking about the kind of bond where you hand someone the keys to your darkest, brightest parts on purpose — and they stay.

Maria Magdalena is the symbol of the “unacceptable” woman: too sexual, too devoted, too complicated to be safe on a stained-glass window. A lot of subs and slaves know that feeling in their bones. They’re told they’re too needy, too intense, too “out there” for love that lasts.

This track sits with that accusation and refuses to apologize.

That’s why it fits this piece:

  • It’s not about cleaning you up.
  • It’s not about making you holy.
  • It’s about saying: You may never be anyone’s safe little saint — and you are still worthy of a devotion that doesn’t run when it sees how deep you go.

Cycle II – Coming of Age · 08 · Commentary (v1.00)

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