Hermione took several timorous steps out to the exercise yard, finding it difficult to accommodate the dildo plug and horse-hoof boots. She followed the directions of the reins, straight to the waiting Professor Grubbly-Plank, who sat waiting patiently next to an odd looking cart. "Her form is not good, but the final chain will fix that" Grubbly-Plank shared her bland assessment with the other Death Eaters, something that Hermione had become totally accustomed to, her former substitute teacher released her hands from their bondage, only to connect them to the two vertical poles of the rickshaw. Despite the humiliation of being locked to the cart, Hermione felt that her balance was improved as the counterweight of the carriage she was fastened to forced her to remain upright. It was a struggle to move the weight even before Grubbly-Plank and Snape seated themselves in the chaise. It was uncomfortable to follow the guidance of the reins both due to the cascades of tugging pain through the chains her body was bound in, coupled with her limited field of vision. Her body learned quickly to to follow the directions of the bridle or risk further pain. Once her riders were happy with her responsiveness to their directions, her trainers concentrated on her form, forcing her to increase her pace as her trot wasn’t fast enough, she stumbled as she felt a stinging hex on her backside tattoo, warning her to keep up the fast pace, Snape snarling at her to keep her feet raised. Hermione struggled to canter satisfactorily, while continuing to keep moving in the intricate turns that Grubbly-Plank’s directions on her reins demanded. The exertion and tight corset meant Hermione was feeling light-headed already.