Taming the FemQueen

You are sitting on your couch, when, exactly eight minutes later, you hear the door open. Emma is standing in the doorway looking abashed and sheepish.
"I'm so glad you chose to accept my offer, Emma. Was it something I said that helped you make up your mind?" She shook her head nervously. "Finally decided to accept your true place in the world did you? Well then, let's get to it." You rise slowly from the couch and move towards Emma, who is still wearing the grey dress she wore to the premiere. Her mascara is slightly smudged though, as if she'd been crying. She recoils slightly as you approach. "Come on now," you say, extending a hand. "I'm a misogynist, not a cannibal. I just want to show you how much I love you." Hesitantly, Emma takes your hand.
"What exactly is it you want me to do?" She asks softly, her voice quavering. "You weren't very specific in the car."
"Oh, it's simple, Emma. I want you to sign a contract, much like Anastasia Steele did, making you my own personal ****." You say, nonchalantly. "I will look after you, I will take care of you, and you will never want for anything. Despite the tirades you've gone on in your life about women needing to stand up for themselves, I think, deep down, you know what all women know, that they are just inferior to men. All I am asking is for you to assume your natural state, and let me make all your decisions for you, from what you eat and what you wear, right down to if you get to orgasm or not. Women are just inferior and the sooner you accept that, the better."

You lead Emma firmly across the room to a door, but when you open it, it's not an office full of papers, like she was expecting, it's an extravagant bedroom. You lie down on the bed. Emma stands at the foot of it.
"Strip." You command. Emma obeys. She'd gotten so used to hearing you give that order when directing the movie that she unconsciously complies. Knowing that the rules you wrote in the Rulebook no longer apply and she's doing this of her own free will, somehow makes it sweeter. Though you've seen it many times, you still take a few seconds to admire Emma's gorgeous naked body.
"Good," you say. "Now, lie down on the bed, where a woman's place truly is. She complies, rather reluctantly. You suddenly grab both of her pert nipples and twist them viciously, she shrieks with surprise and pain. "I want you to acknowledge that women are inferior. I want you to acknowledge that the true place of women is to be playthings for men." You say, twisting even harder. "Say it." Emma keeps howling in pain, but you do not relent. "Look at me. Look me in the eyes and say 'I, Emma Watson, the queen of feminists, acknowledge that women are nothing more than the playthings of men.'" Emma looks directly into your eyes. You can see she's fighting it, but she's about to submit.
"Okay." She manages to gasp. You stop hurting her. There are several moments of tense silence, punctuated only with Emma's heavy breathing, then you see what you've always loved to see. You see the light go out in her eyes, and you know that she has truly given up. She has lost hope. She has submitted. "I, Emma Watson, the queen of feminists, acknowledge that women are nothing more than the playthings of men." She says, softly.
"Excellent, Emma. I knew you could do it. Now get over here. I fancy playing with my new toy."

Emma crawls over to you as you are lying on the bed. You take your pants off and reveal your massive cock. She gasps at the size.
"Now, I want you to ride my cock, Emma. Ride it hard and don't stop until I tell you to, remember, I am in charge here." She obliges, sliding your massive cock into her moist, shaved pussy. You can't believe it's actually happening. You've been waiting for this for weeks now, the night you finally get to fuck Emma Watson. It's everything you could have hoped for. Emma is vigorous and thorough, bouncing up and down on your cock. You try to last for as long as you can, but eventually, you go off like a cannon. You have never felt such pure ecstasy. After a few minutes to catch your breath, you lead Emma back into the dining room, both of you still completely naked, and she signs the slavery contract that binds her to you.

"Get on your knees." You order, and she complies. You head into your room and get changed, and fetch something from one of the cupboards. It is a pink jewel-encrusted dog collar, engraved with the words Gerry's Bitch. You had it made a few weeks ago in anticipation of this moment. You re-enter the dining room to find Emma still sitting patiently. You fasten the collar around her neck and step back to admire the results. Emma Watson, the queen of feminists was now yours, and only yours. She was kneeling on your dining room floor naked and collared, and best of all, it had been her choice. You may have used the Rulebook to break her down, but you didn't **** her to sign the contract.

You have done it. You have tamed the FemQueen.