This was an adventure I didn’t want. A trip to visit MP’s relatives near Where-We-Used-to-Live to celebrate his daughter’s graduation. Two days of driving the mobility van to spend three days there (in two different small towns) and two days of driving home.

His family is fine, they’re good people, we like each other. And we don’t share interests or a similar world view and there would be hours and hours of small talk, which is kind of exhausting.

But it was important to be there. I got that. We talked about driving to the city we used to live in one day, but I didn’t want to do the extra driving, not even to see my sister for an afternoon. She and I agreed to have lunch somewhere halfway in between one day.

So I was not looking forward to the trip, but it was important to do.

Two days before we left, MP called his best friend, who he’s been close to since they were both young. His friend told MP that his son had been killed the day before. Now the son was only 43 and kind of a neighborhood icon. MP was like an uncle to him.

I felt terrible for all of them, as you can imagine. It was tragic and heart-breaking. I was grateful that we were already about to head that way so we could be there for the visitation and funeral.

Only now I was really dreading the trip. I feel soooo petty saying this, but – the logistics – we’d be driving several hours every day after we got there, and we’d change hotels 5 times – I’d be loading and unloading all the luggage every time. And I wanted to be there for the rituals around the son’s death, but I knew it would be heavy and MP would be catching up with a hundred people he hasn’t seen in forever and I was actually going to be more in the way than a help. Even though I wanted to be there and be helpful.

So my adventure begins. Like many journeys, it takes the shape of the Hero’s Journey. In the first stage, the hero (or main character) is just living their ordinary life. Then –

The Call to Adventure: The second stage of a Hero’s Journey. This “sets the story rolling by disrupting the comfort of the Hero’s Ordinary World,,presenting a challenge or quest that must be undertaken.”

Refusal of the Call: The third stage of a Hero’s Journey. The hero of the story doesn’t want the adventure. That was me. I didn’t even think about not going, but I refused to see it as an adventure. It was an unwanted challenge, a task I didn’t want. Even though I was glad we could do the trip, I had my heels dug into “but I don’t want to.” I was miserable.

Thank goodness, Sir was really there for me. Talking me through it, encouraging me, reminding me of the light. That made it bearable.

But I was still unhappy and too close to pouting.

Meeting the Mentor: In many stories, heroes are guided by a mentor who has wisdom and experience. In many ways, Sir was my Mentor, as he always is. But also –

On the second day of our trip, we got stuck in traffic for a couple of hours and got to our hotel just in time to unload the luggage and change clothes for our first graduation event. I was sooo tired, y’all. But I rallied and the event was festive and afterwards we went out for dinner with his (adult) kids and grandkids. It was a restaurant I would never have eaten at before I met MP, but we often eat there now if we’re traveling.

So I don’t know why he made a big deal about me not liking the restaurant. There are a couple of things on the menu I’ll eat, and I was fine. I said so – a couple of times. But the third time he brought it up, his daughter answered. She looked at me, not making eye contact, just looking at me pensively while she said slowly, “You know, I see Olivia as someone who makes the best out of whatever situation she’s in.”

We made eye contact then, and I smiled slightly and nodded, because that’s true. Mostly. But it hit me with a shock that this was not true now.

I thought about that all night, and it was still on my mind the next morning. When I read my Sir’s messages in the morning, he made me feel warm and cared for, as he always does. And I noticed how much he was bolstering me and how much I was counting on that.

For a moment, I thought I must seem very pitiful. (That’s my thought, not necessarily what my Sir was thinking.) But I was suddenly able to see that I needed to find my own resilience. I messaged Sir and asked him to tell me what he was doing, what was going on in his world.

His answer, with the simple things that were going on for him, was a different kind of inspiration. I don’t quite know why, but it shifted something for me.

Suddenly, I was glad to be alive. Glad to be able to load and unload 100 pounds of luggage every day. Grateful for my Sir, grateful for beautiful skies and wide open roads. Appreciative of being able to be present for the funeral.

I began to ask myself what I needed to be ok. I gave myself permission to take breaks. I found opportunities to eat food I liked. I was glad to be with MP at the funeral home, but after a couple of hours, I called Uber and went to the hotel. I left MP to reconnect and mourn with all his old friends without having to try to make me feel included in the conversation, and he appreciated that time.

The universe rewarded me with an Uber driver who was philosophical and interesting and we talked for the entire ride, exchanging ideas as if we already knew each other. Maybe we did, in a different life. I reconnected with knowing that life’s a journey.

And it became an adventure I could say ‘yes’ to. I enjoyed Sir’s messages without feeling so much like they were a lifeline I was (pathetically) clinging to.

The funeral was incredibly moving and heavy, and sad. I was glad I could be there for MP. Afterwards, we drove to a couple of hours to his daughter’s town – but I stayed at the hotel and let him go visit with his family that night.

Settled into the hotel, after enjoying soup for dinner, I suddenly realized I was alone. Alone as in ‘there’s time for a spanking.’ I hesitated. I was tired. Would Sir expect me to take this opportunity? I had no idea. Of course, I didn’t have the tawse, the hanger, or the wooden spoon.

But I have his belt, securely fastened around my waist. And it turns me on a bit to know that I always have this means of being spanked readily available.

I begin, following the protocol he has set.

I lay the belt on the bed. Pants down, panties down, hands on top of my head. Observing the belt, contemplating why I do this. For my Sir of course, because it pleases him, and also for me because, for whatever reason, this is also something I need.

I begin slowly. It stings. A lot.

I am tempted to speed up and get it over with, but I am expected to do it mindfully. I count, recording myself for my Sir later. My little whimpers and gasps, in rhythm with the slap of the belt, landing hard on one cheek, over and over, 12 times, then the other side.

Four rounds of twelve each side. When I am finished, my bottom is warm and a deep pink. I bring the belt, still folded, to my face, gently caress my cheek with it, as I’m required to do before I put it on. Then, my pants still down, I turn to the corner, hands on my head again.

For a couple of minutes, I contemplate what this means to me. I know that my Sir is with me in spirit, that if he were here, he would stroke me, hold me. Our connection is so strong, it is almost as if he were there. I smile, if he had been there, I bet it would have been a longer spanking.

I am very aroused, longing for an orgasm, but I don’t have permission for that. I sigh

In some way, I am already satisfied, even feeling the wetness of my arousal on my inner thighs, the throbbing between my legs. It is another necessary connection. Reconnected with my strength, now I feel reconnected with my submission, more fully connected with my Sir.

I return home with a treasure; that’s the beauty of the Hero’s Journey. You return home changed. I rediscovered my sense of commitment to saying ‘yes’ to the challenges that come along. I am more open to my Sir (who was surprised and pleased by my use of alone time) and I am more connected with my own needs – from lovely meals to sound spankings.

That probably wasn’t the adventure you expected, but it was the one i had… and I’m grateful for it.