It was Halloween, and the theme park was crowded with teenagers in costumes. Some of the girl's costumes were a bit more risqué than what one might expect to find in such a place, but it was nearly midnight on a hot Florida night, and this particular park catered to a slightly more adult crowd.

Unlike the other women in the park I wasn't drinking, or dressed up like a sexy pirate wench or sexy superhero or sexy policewoman. I was showing a little skin: a belly shirt, jean cutoffs, and sandals, with my toenails bright red. But the park was a 3-hour drive from my office and all the men at the company I owned were still at work on the major project I had dumped on them that afternoon so it was okay to have some fun and look sexy.

I got a lot of stares and even a few propositions as I strode through the park. I enjoy teasing men, particularly since I know they are never getting any, and all they can do is dream. When I spotted some fat, middle-aged loser staring at my ass, I'd stop and bend to adjust my sandal, then smile at him as he nervously tried to pretend he wasn't adjusting the erection in his pants. When I saw a group of pathetic college nerds starting at my pokies, I'd stop in front of them, and absent-mindedly lick my luscious red lips as I pretended to read a park map.

Score.

Enjoying every step I strutted to the African market section of the park, past the colorful stone and stucco buildings and carts with thatched awnings hawking T-shirts and beads, basking in my power as every man in the park -- and some of the women -- lusted after my body.

The merchandise for sale was crap, of course, but the theming was nice, with rhythmic African music over the loudspeakers and wooden carts and crates strewn about. Even the pavement had been carved into an ancient looking stone and painted with "dirt" to look authentically distressed.

I went into a large alcove across from the shops, where a stone stage hosted musicians or other street performers on busy days. The stage was empty tonight and this section of the park wasn't crowded, as there was no live music or beer here, just a bored looking janitor cleaning a spotless wooden table that wasn't dirty.

I climbed the four stone steps and stood at the front center of the stage. Slipping off my sandals, I closed my eyes and enjoyed the beating of the drums and the chanting natives over the hidden loudspeakers. It was a hot night and the cold stone of the auction block felt good on my bare feet. Of course in my fantasy my feet weren't the only thing that was bare. The bids were pouring in as the men lusted after my naked body.

Was I lady of wealth and privilege kidnapped off my ship by the Barbary Pirates? A relief worker who had made a deal to smuggle needed supplies with the wrong warlord? Or the daughter of a British Colonel captured in a caravan raid? It didn't matter. The set I was standing on was truly timeless, and naked slave girls had been vended off this stone auction block for centuries. I was simply another naked slave slut.

I felt my pussy get wet as I imagined the men staring at my long red hair, fiery bush, and hard nipples. Hundreds of them, wanting me, desiring me! Oh, the shame, the humiliation! However there was a strange paradox. Yes, I was a slave, but I was in control, with the power to tease, and the power to please. Alas for the men, I chose the former.

"You're not wearing costume," a female voice said.

I opened my eyes, startled to have my fantasy ended so abruptly. The woman was a cast member, obviously, for she was dressed in native garb. She appeared to be quite a bit older than the teenagers that normally staffed the park, and had white hair, a few missing teeth, and what sounded to my untrained ear like a genuine African accent.

Embarrassed, I quickly scampered down the stone steps to level ground. "I'm sorry, I was just getting some air," I said. "I need to go."

"You not forget shoes!" she said, laughing. The old woman picked up my expensive strappy sandals off the stage, and as she passed them to me I also found myself holding a simple and quite worn looking leather necklace. The pendant was two squares that had been turned on their side to look like four-sided diamonds. The two diamonds intersected to form a third four-sided diamond in the center.

It wasn't pretty, and looked very, very old -- a worn piece of leather with a loop on one end and a little hook to catch it. The pendant itself was quite crude and worn too -- two simple squares arranged to create three overlapping "diamonds".

"Put it on. It is your Halloween costume!" she said, laughing.

"A necklace isn't a Halloween costume," I protested.

The toothless old woman burst into laughter, cackling so loudly and so close to me that I could smell her foul breath. "No, this costume. YOUR costume! Put it on, and you'll see, you'll see. Necklace only costume you'll need."

"Thank you, but I don't want to buy anything tonight," I said, trying to hand it back to her.

"No, no, no!" she said, shaking her head and batting my hand away. "No sell. Gift. Gift! Gift from Africa, to rich American girl who dreams of Africa. It is gift, on night of the darkness. 'Trick-and-Treat', as you say. Ha-ha-ha!"

I stepped back as once again her foul breath burned my nostrils. "Here, let me put it on you. Your Halloween costume!"

She moved to put the necklace around my throat, but to avoid her breathing into my mouth I took the leather strips and quickly hooked the necklace closed. I blinked as the lights suddenly turned on.

The place was the same... the buildings, at least, although the prop crates now held mangos, bananas and pears, and the stuffed parrot on the ring outside of the door of the shop was now very much alive. It was suddenly daytime and the ground felt hot beneath my bare feet.

I could feel the sun everywhere. Looking down I realized that I was entirely naked, tip-to-toe, with nothing on whatsoever save my red nail polish and the worthless necklace the old African woman had snapped around my neck.

The piped in soundtrack muzak was gone, and now the marketplace hummed with the sound of African voices shouting gibberish. The marketplace was swarming with people, with vendors hawking their wares. Everything was the same, but different. The theme park had smelled like potpourri air freshener, but this incarnation smelled like a barnyard. Through the fence I could see them selling goats and pigs in a large area that had a few seconds ago been selling adorable stuffed animals. The pushcart that sold suntan oil and bottled water and baseball caps now sold colorful shirts, dresses, fezzes and sunhats.

I ran my foot along the ground; yes, my toes were dirty, and I was standing on real dirt. The park lights had been replaced by unlit lanterns hanging from hooks. The park signage was gone; the few signs I saw were hand painted in a gibberish language I didn't understand.

I looked over my shoulder. A few feet behind me a smiling man with a whip in his hand was concluding the auction of a naked slave girl. She was olive skinned, and crying, and although I didn't speak her language from the sound of her pleas I think she must have been Italian.

I smiled and watched closely, taking a moment to enjoy the end of the show. "Kuuz-wah!" the auctioneer shouted, concluding his sale not with a gavel but by slapping the weeping girl hard across her naked bottom. There was laughter as she cried out, and cheers from the sea of black faces as she was roughly shoved off the other end of the stage.

I stared, mouth agape, as the auctioneer turned to me and pointed, then CRACKED his whip in the air as a signal. I jumped from the sound, which cut through the air like a rifle shot! A few of the men laughed at my reaction, but I soon had bigger problems.

I felt a hand grasp around my neck and begin to push me up the steps of the auction block. I screamed, and tried to wiggle away, but the hand was strong and insistent and soon I saw another black hand grasp my arm. Turning my head sharply to break his grip, I felt the necklace tear away and slide down over my bare breasts...

It hadn't even hit the floor when the lights went out and I found myself once again standing in the theme park in front of the old African woman, who was cackling with glee as she picked the necklace off the ground.

"Do you like Halloween 'costume?' she asked gleefully. "Not much material, but make your fantasy come true. This costume is all you need to wear see?"

"What is that THING?" I said, stepping back as she dangled the suddenly frightening necklace in front of me. "I thought...for a minute I thought...."

"It is African slave necklace," she explained. "The two symbols are interlocking slave shackles. It fits you good-good, does it not?" she teased, laughing.

"When I put it on... I was in a slave market. They were about to sell me. But when I took it off, I was back here."

"Ha-ha! Yes, it is your slave girl costume. The two shackles are the slave symbol. When you wear it, you are slave. When you take it off, you are big shot rich girl again, running your own company, everybody's boss."

"You know who I am?" I said. "Who are you?"

"I am nobody," she replied. "You are the important one. I give you gift. It is a gift from my boss."

"Who is your boss?" I asked.

"Big boss!" she said, laughing. "Powerful boss. He give you necklace as reward, for way you treat everyone. Ha-ha! My boss make fantasy come true. Tonight. Tonight! Halloween night! Go ahead. Put you costume on," she urged, her toothless smile spreading wide across her wrinkled old face. "If you don't like, take off costume and come back," she said, dangling the necklace in front of my face.

"What is this, some sort of voodoo magic?" I said, tentatively taking the necklace into my hand for closer examination. "I don't believe in that sort of thing, you know."

"Believe or no believe," the old woman countered. "Necklace nothing. Necklace not matter. SPELL matter. Spell says you come back if you not wear slave symbol."

I examined the simple necklace with new respect. It was nothing more than a leather strip, an ancient, crude pendant, and a small hook. It was easy to get on, and easy to get off. It was simple, yet complex, cheap but valuable, useless, but powerful.

One doesn't get to be the head of their own company by being timid. Deciding to give it a test, I tentatively put it around my neck. As soon as the two pieces of the necklace touched, I was once again blinded by the light as the world changed around me and the rough hands pushed my naked body up another step. Fortunately, I had not locked the necklace and as I fell forward the necklace slipped off, returning me to the old crone at the theme park.

"See?" the old woman said, laughing. "Easy to come back. Go! Enjoy costume. Play! Have fun! Halloween, Halloween! Never get chance again. Trick-and-treat!"

She was right. The necklace was flimsy and it would be easy to tear it off. I had always fantasized about being auctioned off in this "slave market." This chance would never come again.

Swallowing hard, I hooked the little loop of the necklace around my throat.

I didn't struggle as the black hands pushed me up the stairs. Turning to face the sea of hungry black faces surveying my naked body, I smiled and shook out my long red hair.

The crowd cheered my lusciousness nudity. I had them transfixed. I noticed there were no cell phones, no watches, and no sign of radio towers or cars or engines or any sort of modernity. I had not only been transferred to another place, I had been transferred to another time, a time when naked white girls could be bought and sold with total impunity.

Speaking of impunity, I realized that I was about to play the best Halloween prank EVER. I would be able to prick-tease literally hundreds of men with my naked body. I would make every ding-dong in the marketplace hard as steel, then, when I had driven them all into a frenzy, I'd vanish like a lily white snowflake on a hot African day right before their eyes. It would be the ultimate prick tease.

The auctioneer, eager to get started, said something to the crowd as he ran his dirty black fingers through my beautiful red hair. I smiled at him and licked my lips. He seemed surprised, but pleased.

I didn't resist as he bounced one of my breasts up and down with the tip of his whip. Following the auctioneer's lead, I jumped up and down, bouncing my breasts, as the men laughed. The auctioneer, pleased to find a piece of merchandise so eager to sell herself, stood back and accepted the bids as I bounced in a circle, shaking my butt for the rowdy bidders.

In the rear of the alcove a man started beating a drum to keep time with the rhythm of my bouncing breasts and bottom. Picking up on the cue, I began to dance along, and the drummer boy picked up the pace.

BOOM-DA-DA-DA-DA-DA-DA-DA BOOM! DA-DA-DA-DA-DA-DA-BOOM!

The pace of the drumbeat was insane but I kept up laughing as I undulated my arms and hips and shook my breasts and hair to the command of the drum. The men were transfixed as they ogled my naked, squirming body.

If it were a dance contest, I would have surely won. But it was not and too soon the auctioneer, tiring of my performance and eager to move the merchandise, grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and pushed me to the front of the stage. Tapping the inside of my creamy white thighs with his whip he commanded me to spread my legs. I obeyed.

He lifted my arms and brushed my hair back so that it was no longer covering my breasts. I felt my face go flush as the laughing, vulgar villagers made a crude assessment of my naked charms in their gibberish language.

I felt myself flush. Was there an element of humiliation in my fantasy? Definitely. In real life I was always in charge and in control. In my fantasy I could pretend that I wasn't, that I was a helpless slave girl, stripped naked for the men's inspection and appraisal. My pussy moistened at the thought.

I decided to regain control. "The men in this shit-hole village are CHEAP!" I shouted, laughing at their eager faces. "I want to suck your big black cocks," I said, licking my lips and sticking out my tongue. "I long to taste your seed in my mouth! Bid on me, masters, so this poor slave girl can pleasure you with her tongue."

Strutting across the stage I pointed at individual buyers. "Are you man enough for me? Are you? What about you, fatso? Can you satisfy an insatiable slave slut?"

I wasn't sure if any of them could understand me, and I certainly couldn't understand what the laughing, lust filled men were shouting at me, but as I waggled my tongue at them I realized that our non-verbal communication was excellent. A few of the men had reached under their colorful robes to jerk their cocks like the disgusting monkeys they were. Ignorant, illiterate natives who couldn't even speak English, they didn't realize they were bidding on a multimillionaire that owned her own business and had hundreds of employees at her beck-and-call. But they knew quality pussy when the saw it.

Why should these chattering monkeys have all the fun? Spreading my legs wide I reached between my legs and began to rub myself, inserting several fingers inside of me as I groaned with pleasure.

"Oh, Masters! Do you want to fuck me?" I teased, running my free hand over my erect nipples. "Do you want to fuck my furry red snatch? My little red fox is so wet and eager. I want to feel you inside of me, all of you!"

I removed my hand and held my glistening fingers up in the sunlight. "Are any of you man enough to master me? Is there a real man among you? Do any of you know how to use the whip to bring me to heel? Are any of you man enough to satisfy your hot, red haired slave slut?"

Kneeling down in front of the auctioneer, I put my hands behind my back, and used my mouth to grab the end of the handle of his whip. As the crowd laughed and jeered, I sucked the whip handle like a cock.

The auctioneer apparently didn't like me getting his whip handle wet with my slobber, and after a few good strokes pulled it from my mouth and dried it with my long red hair. He motioned for me to rise and show myself to the men, but I shook my head and tried to reach for his whip handle with my mouth.

Much to my shock he pulled the whip away and cracked it in the air. My heart skipped; I was so close to him that I could actually feel the wind from the whip in my ear, and the horrible thunderclap chilled me to the bone. Genuinely frightened, I lurched backwards, trying to rise but falling on my naked bottom. The crowd laughed heartily.

The auctioneer, not pleased, pointed at the front of the stage with his menacing whip. I was far enough away from him for him to use it, if he cared to. I had total control of the situation, of course, but he still had the whip. If he cracked the whip, would I be able to tear off my necklace in time?

Eager to avoid the whip I took my place at the front of the stage and resumed hawking my wares. I considered myself an expert in sales, and had made presentations to theaters much larger than the courtyard I was standing in. I had been dressed in a neat business suit then, in charge, and in control.

For a moment I imagined myself back on the stage in the convention center, dressed in my smart power suit with a thousand listeners eating out of my hand. "In the final analysis, it's my entrepreneurial vision that allowed me to destroy my competition and seize control of the market. My staff is useful, but I never let them forget who's in charge."

Now I wasn't selling my company, or an idea. I was selling myself. Spreading my legs I inserted both hands into my crotch, using one hand to massage my pussy while the other rubbed my engorged clit.

"Oh, Masters!" I groaned, "My red crotch burns with desire! Will any of you buy me? Will you pleasure your helpless slave girl? I am so hot and wet for you! I will devote my life to pleasing your cocks!"

I held up my hands, showing my glistening wetness to the crowd. They laughed and cheered. The alcove was packed with people now, as the normal to-and-fro was replaced with new men arriving but no one leaving. Everywhere there were black faces and eager white eyes. There were men on the roofs, watching the show. A few of the more nimble 18-year-olds had climbed the wooden support posts and were sitting on top, perched like birds. Others were sitting on the tree branches, which were bending from their combined weight. Merchants were standing on their carts; a few enterprising men were standing on overturned orange crates. One skinny teenage boy who looked to be about 19 was actually wrapped around a tent pole, and was rubbing against it, jerking himself off in time with my own self pleasuring.

I groaned in pleasure as I edged closer to orgasm. The bidding was fast, but I wanted more.

Turning around I spread my legs and bent over, reaching between my legs to continue masturbating myself for the crowd. As I bent my butt cheeks spread wide, revealing my tight little bottom hole to the crowd.

"Oh, Masters, do not forget my bottom. It is tight and warm and in need of stretching! You must use your red headed slave slut everywhere, in all of my holes!"

Behind me some of the pigs for sale began to bleat, and I noticed a few of the men turning away from me to see what was happening. Annoyed, I spread my butt cheeks wider and groaned with pleasure as I "winked" my butthole at them.

Much to my annoyance the other animals picked up on my sounds. The chickens clucked, the goats bleated, and the pigs squealed. The men laughed as I competed with the noisy animals, which only made me angrier. "Why are these fucking assholes selling fucking LIVESTOCK in the same market as me?" I thought. "Fine. They want pigs. I'll give them pigs."
Infuriated at the way I was competing with goats and pigs for the buyers attention, I flipped onto my back, raised my dirty feet into the air, and spread my legs wide. Gasping and groaning with pleasure and squealing louder than any of the pigs I masturbated my soaking fire crotch for the crowd, keeping my head up so they could see the expression of joy and lust on my face as I flicked my bean for them and my pussy quivered in pleasure.

Was I humiliated? Totally. On a scale of 1-10 my humiliation was 15. I had lowered myself to the level of a disgusting pig slut, a piece of livestock to be sold like a goat or donkey or pig. But that was part of the turn on. The men in the front row staring between my legs weren't buying me; they were bidding on a hot piece of slave pussy. Yet as my humiliation crashed over me I rocked through the most explosive orgasm of my life.

I reassured myself I was still in charge. But why should I take off my necklace when I was having so much fun, and a hundred men were all eating out of my hand? I'm sure the men were laughing WITH me. the men shouted out all sorts of native gibberish as my pussy quivered through a second orgasm. They hooted and jeered, bragging to each other about what they'd like to do to me. They would never get the chance. I was still in charge.

The final bidding was fast and furious. The auctioneer CRACKED the whip in the air, signaling me that my luscious self-pleasuring was done.

I rose, smiling with satisfaction at the crowd I had enslaved. A number of them had splattered their seed on the ground. All of them wanted me. Let them have their fun. Shooting their filthy spunk onto the ground was as close to me as any of them would ever get.

One of the donkeys bleated, and I turned in time to see a fat merchant swatting the animal on the behind to propel the newly sold ass out of its pen and toward a small adobe building a few yards from where I was standing. I laughed, but my triumph was cut short as I felt a sharp, slap across MY naked rump.

My ass burned, and for a moment I thought I'd been hit with the whip, but then I realized it was merely the auctioneer signaling the end of the auction with a crisp spank across my bare bottom.

It wasn't a gentle swat of a affection, or caress, but rather a hard SPANK that signaled ownership. I felt a fresh wave of humiliation crash over me as I realized that my auction had ended precisely the way the donkeys had. My auction was over, and it was time to get the meat, the livestock, the ass -- or in my case, the hot piece of ass -- off the block.

Like the donkey, I had been sold. A part of me couldn't believe it. I thought of all the things I owned: my corporation, my homes, my cars, my endless deeds and titles. Was there a title on me? Perhaps. Someone owned me. Someone OWNED me.

But who? The men in the crowd laughed as I rubbed my bottom and scurried off the stage. I almost took the necklace off, but my curiosity about my new owner got the better of me.

I stopped rubbing my bottom and started rubbing my hot wet slave pussy as I followed the donkey into a small brown stucco building that had sold BBQ, turkey legs, and cold drinks in its theme park incarnation.

Was it still a restaurant? Something was cooking. I could smell the charcoal smoke and the enormous fireplace was in the same spot as I remembered, although coming out of the blinding sun it was too dark to see anything else. I was bent over a sort of table and my head and hands were fitted into a stock that was quickly closed, immobilizing my head and hands.

As my eyes strained to adjust the men behind me tightened the leather straps around my legs and ankles, binding me into place.

In front of me a fat black man with white hair lifted his robe to reveal his hard cock. It was large with a bulbous head and a thick vein, and it didn't smell very good at all.

I suddenly regretted licking my lips so lasciviously on the stage. Instinctively I reached to pull the necklace off, but with my hands locked into the stocks my fingers were just a few inches short. I tried to shake it off, but the man held my head steady as he pressed his fat black cock against my lips.

"Wait!" I said, turning my head up to look him directly in the eye. "You don't understand. I'm a VERY powerful person. Very rich. Very powerful. Really! I can pay you a lot of money. You can't do this to me."

I was using my, "I'm the boss," tone but he just laughed. A sharp SPANK across my bottom cheek signaled the price of disobedience. I opened my mouth to cry out...and his big black sausage slipped inside my gaping maw.

The smell and taste of him were so bad I wanted to wretch but realizing the only way out of this was forward I decided to play along. I began to dutifully swirl my tongue around his leaking, bulbous head.

I looked up at the grinning fat man who I was sucking off. He didn't look particularly prosperous or wealthy and he was wearing a very simple coarse tunic. I tried to explain to him that it was a mistake, that unlike him I was rich and important, but with his fat little cock in my mouth it came out as garble.

I looked up at him with pleading eyes; he smiled down at me with an amused, satisfied smile. For a moment I thought I knew him, but then realized that it was his expression that was familiar. It was the same amused look I gave people who asked me for something. It was my, "I'm in charge, and you're not" look.

Clearly the ignorant peasant didn't understand whom he was dealing with!

Suddenly a strange thought crossed my mind, an odd shift in my thinking. Perhaps I was the one who didn't understand. In this time and place, I wasn't rich. There was no need for entrepreneurial women executives to implement strategic visions. Here I was a penniless, naked, slave girl, and the only useful parts of me were my mouth, pussy, and asshole. The parts of me that had just been vended off the block.

I swirled my tongue around as he smiled down. I could tell he was relishing my disgust and humiliation and his absolute power over me. His dancing eyes spoke volumes: "That's a good pig slut. Suck, suck, suck! Polish my knob, you illiterate little fuck bunny. No one can understand you and no one wants to hear gibberish from a pleasure sluts. Your mouth is good for sucking cock. Now suck until I spurt my load into your pretty fuck bunny mouth."

I felt my pussy spasm as the realization of my situation sank in. Fortunately I was still smarter than him. He was old, and although is withered tool had gotten hard under my tongue's gentle caresses I knew I could forestall his pleasure indefinitely by slowing down my sucking.

I began to bob my head up-and-down as I sucked him, trying to dislodge the chain around my neck. The chain held fast, but I felt his cock grow fatter as he groaned in pleasure. If I could shake my head just a little bit more—

My plan was interrupted as behind me I felt a thick knob of flesh press against my totally exposed pussy. My "Nooooooaaaaa!" was a tortured garble as the man behind me found the target and with a single thrust sunk deep into my wet sex.

I was hot and ready, and it felt WONDERFUL! But any pleasure I felt was belayed as I tried to explain "Mmm naaah on oooh uuu-ooll": "I'm not on birth control." Why should I be, since I had no intention of letting any of the pathetic men who were begging for my attention get any? Unfortunately I was now being ridden bareback by some black village stud whose face I couldn't even see.

Somewhere behind me the stupid native began beating the drum, and soon I was being fucked to the savage beat. My master groaned as he picked up the pace. I longed to see him but he didn't care about my face. I was just a hot, juicy, furry red pussy to him.

The man fucking my mouth pulled on my long red hair, clearly angry that I wasn't paying enough attention to him. Looking down at me, he wagged his tongue back-and-forth, directing his illiterate cock sucking slave girl in the proper technique. Obedient to the pain, I began to move my tongue around his shaft.

The first squirt from his cock caught me TOTALLY off guard. My eyes must have bugged out because I heard the man riding me from behind guffaw heartily at my reaction to his thick, gooey spunk. The old man apparently hadn't come in years, as he shot an enormous wad of his disgusting jizz everywhere in my mouth. I didn't dare spit it out, and with my head tilted down it was hard to swallow, so I ended up smearing his disgusting, foul tasting spunk all over my mouth and tongue as I tried to use my tongue to lift it into my throat for disposal.

My disgust, nausea, and humiliation crashed over me like waves on a beach. The men laughed as I sputtered and choked but I eventually managed to gobble it all down. He didn't release me until I had swallowed every drop.

He stepped back and dried his cock with my silky red hair. When he stepped out of the way I saw that behind me the little donkey was locked into a stall and strapped down like I was. I was baffled as to what they were doing until the man who had fucked my mouth pull a long stick out of the fire and examine the tip, which glowed blue, white, and orange as he blew on it.

The man fucking me from behind came in torrents as the iron found it's mark on the donkey's flank and the animal BRAYED loudly. The old man with the branding iron counted slowly to three: "Moja... Mili... tatu."

As the donkey brayed for its the life the sailor riding me groaned with pleasure and shot what felt like a quart of baby batter into my totally unprotected sex. Bent forward as I was it ran deep inside of me, with no leakage.

I was ovulating, and it had been a perfect shot. Fuck! Literally! I had to get out of this place.

I shook my head in frustration, but the cheap little hook that was now controlling my destiny held fast.

The man pulled out, laughing as he slapped my ass and bragged to his buddies about what a good fuck I'd been. I thought he was through with me, but reaching from me he took the wooden handle of a very crude mallet that looked like something out of the Iron Age and jammed the it long-ways into my mouth. Pulling back hard he forced my mouth open, exposing my teeth and forcing my mouth into a ridiculous grin.

The old man who had splattered his filth into my mouth selected a branding iron out of the fire. I watched in horror as he blew on the tip and smiled as the colors changed from blue to white to orange. Looking down at me he snickered, giving me an enormous, "You're not going to like this, bitch!" smile.

I screamed into my crude gag as I realized that the BBQ turkey leg place was a blacksmith's shop, and I was the next piece of livestock to be branded.

Knowing that I was unintelligible I just wept and begged for mercy. The men laughed. My fantasy had come true. I was a slave girl now, and there would be no mercy for me.

I strained my fingers with all my might to reach the necklace. I was so close...

The pain in my bottom as the brand sizzled into my backside was blinding, but the old man took his time.

"Moja... "

"Mili... "

"Tatu!"

The three seconds seemed to last 10 minutes and when they released me from the stock I collapsed. One of the men lifted me up like a rag doll and carried me out to a pen to wait with the other freshly branded donkeys, goats, and slave girls.

The man carrying me, deciding that a freshly branded slave girl was not entitled to jewelry, ripped of my necklace...

Nothing happened.

After dumping me on the ground he put the necklace in his pocket and walked away. What happened? Why was I still in the slave market? A glance at the bottom of the branded slave girl next to me revealed the mystery.

The welt from the brand was red and raised, but distinct: two diamonds intersecting to form a third brand. We had been butt branded with the handcuffs, the symbol of our slavery.

I heard the old woman's voice in my head: "Necklace not matter. SPELL matter. Spell says you come back if you not wear slave symbol."

I cried out in agony as my fingers gingerly verified the slave symbol on my right bottom cheek. I was naked and helpless, a penniless slave girl in a strange land, and a strange time. But with my branding my Halloween costume was complete, and I would be wearing it forever.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!