In my dictator fantasy, the people that I rule exist for no reason but to satisfy my sadism. Death by slow torture is the only sentence for any crime, and my guards would be allowed and encouraged to rape any prisoners they wish beforehand. While society burns, the economy tanks, and popular resentment grows under my mismanagement, I’m living it up in my torture palace, surrounded by the most attractive prisoners of either sex as they’re crucified, impaled, burned, or skinned alive. When the people finally revolt against my misrule, I allow myself and my loyal guards to be captured by the angry mob. My reign ends with my own public execution by torture, because masochism is the other side of sadism. And now that the people have gotten a taste of torture, I can die knowing that the cycle will continue after me.