I first spotted him at the local coffee shop, hunched over his laptop with wide, pleading eyes. He was the perfect target: timid, lonely, and desperate for attention. I approached him with a confident smile, and before long, I had him wrapped around my finger.

At first, it was just harmless flirting and subtle manipulation. I’d lead him on, let him believe that he had a chance with me, and then pull away at the last second. It was a cruel game, but one that he seemed all too eager to play.

As time went on, I began to push his boundaries further and further. I’d demand increasingly outrageous favors, knowing that he would do anything to win my affection. I’d ridicule him in front of his friends, laughing at his awkward jokes and making him the butt of my crude humor.

But even as I treated him like a disposable toy, I couldn’t help but feel a twisted sense of satisfaction. There was something exhilarating about wielding so much power over someone else, about reducing a grown man to a blubbering, simpering mess.

Of course he would be my little toy until I was bored and then I would simply move on to my next victim.

But for now, I would continue to relish in the thrill of the hunt, to savor the taste of his desperate adoration. And as I looked into his pitiful, longing eyes, I couldn’t help but smile. This was my world, and I was its cruel, merciless queen..

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