Judy's days usually included a large element of routine. Unless a master or mistress kept her in the main house- that only happened half a dozen times- she always spent the night in a stall in the stables. Each held two ponies, and the pairings were changed at random every day, so she never knew who she'd be sleeping with, or even whether it would be a he or a she. They were chained with their hands together in front of their bodies, so they were free to enjoy one another, and almost always did. The beds in the stalls were simple bales of straw with plastic covers, and the floors were covered with rush matting. There were bottles of water hanging on the walls with nipples for drinking, and bowls for waste matter. Unlike the house slaves, the ponies voided solid waste before breakfast, which consisted of food pellets poured into a trough. That was the most difficult thing for Judy to accept, for even during her brief career as a film star, she'd had proper meals. Now she had to chomp through stuff that looked like dried dog food- though it didn't taste bad- and look forward to treats that she might be given later in the day if she performed very well, or was used by a master or mistress. After feeding she'd be taken out of the stall to the cleaning room, where she'd be given several enemas in succession, and then showered. During those processes her hands were locked behind her back, and the stable hands were both male and female. Finally, she was led into the adjoining milking shed. Sometimes it was done by hand; sometimes by machine. She much preferred the former. She was not expected to produce very much, but the quantity did increase as the weeks went by and her udders grew to their final size, which was quite impressive. When she was harnessed and cantering, they swung rhythmically from side to side, feeling heavier as the day wore on. She was often fed with pellets again at lunchtime, but if she was being driven some distance from the house, it was often cereal bars. Sometimes her drivers, or those who used her for sex, drank from her nipples, but she was milked again, to drain her thoroughly for the night, after dinner.

When Jason was planning his wagon drive to Nuova Sevillia, Judy was considered ready for sale, though only to a restricted market. He chose her for the team because she was very fit, and the long haul would show up any remaining weaknesses. She came through the test with flying colours. She enjoyed the first part of the journey, for although pulling the wagon was hard work and the food was even worse than usual, the great expanses of grassland and forest made her feel much more free than she actually was. She loved the nights spent on the ground under the open sky, with the stars so different from the ones she'd grown up with, and the moon a strange blue colour. She also loved the sex; she was used by all three of the men, and by most of the other ponies. Chained lightly to their crossbars at night, they were much freer than usual. She'd never had one of the heavy hauling ponies before, and she quite liked to feel their powerful muscles, and to use her newly-acquired massage skills to ease the day's stresses and strains away. The last part of the journey was very hard work indeed, but she was the only one of the 'racing ponies' (really just a flag of convenience for her) that pulled the wagon every inch, from the beginning to the end of the journey. She collected some impressive whipmarks, and was surprised when Colin told her that they added to her resale value. When they'd finally arrived at the Sevillia house she was given a comfortable stall, plenty of time to rest, and extra human food to supplement her pony pellets. She was also taken out for short but regular drives, and whipped up to a canter for short, sharp sprints. Colin was happy to expound on his theme of a few days before.

'Pony buyers know to look carefully at the whipmarks', he told her during a rest stop by the shore, a couple of miles from the house. 'If there are hardly any, they'll wonder whether you've been properly trained and exercised. If there are too many, they'll think you unwilling and difficult, and too much like hard work to be worth buying. They can spot attempts to mark a pony for sale. I can't just string you up in the stables and do it all in one go; they'd spot that. They'll also see that the marks from the long drive are different. You had your hands in front of you, pushing the crossbar, so the lashes fell mainly on your back. They'll know about that, and being one of those ponies will give you a novelty value; a certain charisma that should add to your price.'

His constant talk of her sale and her price sent shivers through Judy's body. She'd already been sold once, of course, but then she'd been traumatised by what she'd seen on Earth, and her own narrow escape from an agonising death. Now it all seemed very real and cold-blooded; she was going to stand naked on an auction block while strangers bid against one another to own her, body and soul. She might never see any of the people she knew ever again, but when she voiced that anxiety Colin tried to reassure her. 'You'll probably see me, at least', he said. 'Although I'm retained by His Lordship, I also do consultation work for other owners. They usually like to have continuity in their ponies' veterinary supervision, especially when there are a lot of treatments involved.'