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Updated: May 15, 2025
Unable to endure the suspense, she straightened her bowed shoulders and turned in convulsive appeal to where she had glimpsed the flail-like rise and fall of Sister Agnetia's serge-clad arm. There was no one there! The bare, cell-like chamber was empty, save for herself.
"Yes . . . yes . . . I submit myself." Dimly she felt that by means of this endurance she would win back Michael, cleanse herself to receive his love. "I submit," she repeated in a rapt whisper of self-surrender. Sister Agnetia's voice swam unctuously into her consciousness once more. "I thought you tried to avoid that last stroke.
But with Sister Agnetia, Magda was always sensible of the personal venom of a little mind vested with authority beyond its deserts, and she resented her dictation accordingly. And equally accordingly, it seemed to fall always to her lot to work under Sister Agnetia's supervision.
Again the cords descended on the bared shoulders. Magda winced away from them, shivering. For a moment Sister Agnetia's arm hung flaccid, the cords of the flagellum pendant and still. "Are you submitting to the discipline, Sister Penitentia?" came her voice. It was an unpleasant voice, suggestive of a knife that has been dipped in oil. Magda caught her breath.
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