Punishment?

“Why isn't she screaming?”
The cold, high voice distracted the aroused death eaters. They all immediately turned away from the spectacle they were enjoying to give full attention to their lord.
“Perhaps my lord,” sneered a masked death eater seated to his left, “the filthy mudblood is enjoying it.”
The laughter echoed around the stone walls, seemingly drilling itself into Hermione's mind. Even Voldemort emitted a sound that could have been amused.
“Very good, Lucius, it seems you always know what to say at the right time.”
The laughter cut off abruptly, all those gathered knew it was a reminder of his disloyalty. Lucius bowed his head, though chose not speak. As always he had judged it perfectly, the dark lord had not finished.
“Though I appreciate your comment, and think that maybe you could suggest how we could better the entertainment.”
Hermione shuddered. She had been spread-eagled, naked of course, across a stone platform. For the last hour a thick, leather whip had been beaten against her back, and when she became too bloodied, or the pain numbed, she would be healed and the ordeal started again.
“Well, my lord, I wonder if this physical punishment, while painful, may not be the best way to really affect the mudblood.”
Hermione desperately hoped that she had misunderstood, that she had imagined the tone in his voice.
“Go on.” The death eaters hung on his every word, many getting visibly exciting.
“I feel that this form of torture may only strengthen that tragic feeling that so many good people suffer from, that this is making her more riteous, that under going this is making her better.”
Voldemort's eyes narrowed.
“Of course Lucius, sometimes the true extent of your understanding amazes even me.” A collective breath was held around the room, such a compliment was not uttered lightly. Lucius recognised the honour with a slight incline of his head.
“Thank you, my lord. I think that something that would go against the mudblood's scrupulous morals, may combine emotional torture and physical torture in a way that would leave her feeling dirty and dishonorable.”
Excited mutters filled the dungeon. Hermione fought hard against tears, she had been silent through the whole of the whipping and refused to break now.
“Yes, Lucius, brilliant. Now, shall it be yourself who inflicts this on the mudblood,” he paused, “Or would that be closer to pleasure than punishment?”
Lucius patiently waited for the laughter to dispel.
“Well, my lord, with my record, I do not believe her enjoying it would be a problem.”
Nasty chuckles filled the room, and Hermione felt paralyzed.
“Well then, get on with it.” Voldemort gestured towards the centre of the room.