“Oh, you’re very mistaken. I can do anything I want. And I never said it was a punishment. I simply stated a fact.”

I wanted to say more, but didn’t. I couldn’t remember the last time I slept on the floor; surely he had a good reason for insisting I do it tonight. Just like this week. Even though it was something I wanted, he’d specifically said it wasn’t working out for him the way things were. Perhaps this was his way to show me how things could work. Or maybe he was seeing if he liked it better with me in his collar more frequently.

I glanced out the window. We’d almost reached our cruising altitude. It would be a ridiculously short trip.

Beside me, Nathaniel unbuckled his seat belt and stood up. I glanced out of the corner of my eye and saw he had my platinum and diamond collar with him. I had another one made of leather but I remembered he’d said something about a cocktail reception tonight, so it made sense he’d pick the platinum one for today.

“If you’re ready, Abigail,” he said just a few steps beyond my chair. “Come kneel and show your desire to wear my collar.”

He’d instructed me earlier to wear a dress with no hose or panties, and when I stood up, I felt cool air brush against my skin. The hem came only to my knees, so I knelt down carefully before him. As always, when I got into position to serve him, I felt restful and at peace.

I relaxed with a deep sigh as he slipped the collar into place and fastened it with a softly spoken, “Thank you, Abigail.”

I looked up at him to see if he made any sort of movement that indicated he wanted to use my mouth.

“Not right now.” He ran his fingers through my hair. “The pilot said there was a possibility of running into turbulence and I’d prefer not to have my dick in your mouth if that happens.”

I couldn’t help it—I laughed at the visual. “Ouch.”

He smiled. “Come back over this way. I have something for you to do.”

He pulled a large pillow from the cabinets beside my chair and placed it on the floor. “I want you to sit and write in your journal. I’d like for you to spend twenty minutes writing down your goals for the week.”

He’d told me yesterday to have my journal with me and accessible during the flight, so his assignment didn’t come as a surprise. I was thrown a little off guard by the fact he wanted me to sit on the floor and write.

Looking at it as a way to prepare myself for a pallet bed that awaited me that night, I settled myself near his feet and started writing. He appeared to be reading papers. If I had to guess, he was going over his notes for the meeting he had the following day. He’d already gone over them a million times, but Nathaniel was Nathaniel.

I pulled out my tote bag to get my water bottle, but remembered I’d left it sitting on the kitchen countertop. Not a problem, the jet had a refrigerator.

“Is something wrong?” Nathaniel put a hand on my shoulder when I started to get up.

“Just wanted to get some water. I left mine at the house.”

“Sit back down.” He buzzed for the flight attendant and I debated hopping up into my seat. Nathaniel kept his hand firmly on my shoulder, though. He must have anticipated my thoughts again.

“Yes, sir?” Margaret, the attendant, asked, stepping into the main cabin. I couldn’t look at her. I pretended to be invisible.

“Mrs. West would like some water. Please bring me a bottle.”

She stepped away to get it and I straightened my shoulders and steeled my spine. Why did I want water? I should have kept writing.

Margaret returned quickly and held the bottle out to me.

Nathaniel grabbed it. “I said bring me a bottle.”

I looked her way quickly, just to see how or if she reacted, but she appeared unruffled. “Sorry, sir.”

She turned and left. Completely unreadable. I supposed that was probably a good personality trait to have with her job.

Nathaniel shifted me so I leaned against his legs and pressed the bottle to my lips. I was more thirsty than I thought and I drank almost half of the bottle. In the back of my mind, though, I kept looking for Margaret to come back in.

“Tell me what’s on your mind.” Nathaniel stroked my cheek.

He probably had a fairly good idea what was on my mind, but might think I wouldn’t tell him since I had his collar on. Which wasn’t the whole truth. I just didn’t feel like talking about it. Because he asked though, I’d tell him.

“I wasn’t expecting you to keep me on the floor while Margaret waited on us,” I said.

“Did it bother you?”