Paul Jones
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*** Catholic school alumni may find this tale especially apt. ***
The Abbess had invited Jason to visit her Convent. It was the motherhouse of
The Sisters of Penance, one of the more obscure religious orders. Upon his arrival,
she greeted him warmly, and served coffee.
During the conversation, she made a startling disclosure. “The name of our Order
indicates our mission: to impose penance on sinners. Specifically, the penance takes
the form of tickling."
Now Jason knew why she had lured him to the Convent. She must have discovered
his secret.
He felt himself growing drowsy, and he soon fell asleep. When he awoke, he was tied
to an X-shaped cross. Except for his shorts, he was naked.
The Abbess was now accompanied by several other nuns, who smiled at Jason
impishly. Like the Abbess, they were all well into middle age.
She said to them, “Jason is a wicked young man. It’s come to my attention that he
takes pleasure in tickling women. Isn’t that sinful?” Smiling in mock indignation, they
agreed that “It most certainly is!”
“But we know the perfect penance for him, don’t we?” The Sisters nodded in
agreement.
Then she drew her nails across Jason’s stomach, making him squirm and laugh
heartily. “Well, it seems that Jason is a very ticklish ‘penitent’ indeed!” she
observed, stressing the euphemism for victim.
She resumed tickling his stomach, making him laugh uncontrollably. “Kooch-
kooch-kooch,” she taunted.
Then he squealed as she tickled his armpits. “Kitchee-kitchee-koo! Doesn’t he
laugh beautifully?” she asked. The others cheerily agreed that he did.
She reminded them, “As you know, I always augment my tickling with verbal taunts to
increase the penitent’s humiliation. I’m a great believer in humiliation as a component
of tickle penance.”
“When dealing with an adolescent boy or a grown man, I use childish taunts like
‘Kitchee-kitchee-koo.’ That’s because tickling reduces an older male to the level
of a blubbering little boy, something that he finds unspeakably embarrassing.”
“And his embarrassment is considerably greater when the tickle penance is imposed
by nuns,” she added knowingly, winking at the others, who smiled in acknowledgment.
Jason groaned because she was so right. In addition, he sensed that her observations
were addressed more to him than to the Sisters, who would already be familiar with
the Order’s practices. He would hear more such comments.
She tickled his feet, playfully at first. “No! Please! Not my feet!” he cried out.
But then she began a merciless foot tickling, accompanied by “Ickle-tickle-tickle!”
He went wild, writhing as much as the bonds would allow, and howling with laughter.
She paused to remark, “There is something elemental about tickling the feet. Many
people who can tolerate (or who even enjoy) being tickled elsewhere find foot
tickling utterly unbearable!”
“On the other hand, some people actually like having their feet tickled. We must
always be on the alert for such subjects, and adjust their penance accordingly.”
Next, she started tickling his ribs vigorously, while regaling him with “Itchee-kitchee-
kitchee!” He responded with boisterous laughter.
Then he again found himself squealing as she deftly tickled his breasts. “Remember
that a male’s breasts can be as ticklish as our own are.”
As always, the Sisters were delighted by the Abbess’s tickling expertise and insights.
“Now we’ll employ our customary atonement tools,” she said, displaying two electric
toothbrushes of a type noted for its brisk vibrations. The Sisters smiled in anticipation,
but Jason gasped.
The Abbess observed, “For the ultimate in tickle penance, nothing is more effective
than the atonement tools. Since they are especially effective on the feet, we’ll start
there.”
She had tied back his toes, enabling her to tickle his feet with great effect. He writhed
frantically, and bellowed with laughter. Because the Sisters always thoroughly enjoyed
foot tickling, she kept it up awhile.
She next turned her attention to the rest of his helpless body. Smiling mischievously,
she glided her tools over his armpits, breasts, ribs, stomach, and inner thighs. This
assault drove him to new levels of hilarity.
“Oh, Mother, this is so cruel! Please stop!” he cried between wails of tortured
laughter. She commented to the others, “I love it when a penitent begs for mercy,
don’t you?” They indicated that they surely did.
Then she put her toys aside, and resumed the tickle torture using her fingers. Jason
shrieked in ticklish agony as the sensations exploded in his brain.
Roars of hysterical laughter issued forth from her hapless “penitent.” Jason shook the
room with the vibrations of his howling laughter.
Then she paused and whispered to him, “You never knew that tickling could be such
torture, did you, Jason? And you certainly never dreamed that someday you’d
be tickled for your transgressions, did you?”
“No, no!” he moaned. “Well, that’s the wages of sin,” she retorted.
Then Jason began begging frantically, “Oh, Mother, please have mercy! I can’t
stand it! I’m too ticklish for this! I’M TOO TICKLISH!”
“Do you hear that, Sisters?” the Abbess asked. “The tickler is too ticklish for this.
How delightful!” They all laughed heartily.
Then she said aloud, “I have a confession to make. I’m especially enjoying humiliating
Jason. This must be unspeakably embarrassing for him. Isn’t that right, Jason?”
He groaned in agreement.
“I could keep this up forever,” she confided further. “This is my idea of Heaven: tickling
a sinner forever.” Jason shuddered at the thought of an eternity of tickle torture.
Then she announced, “All right, Sisters. Now it’s your turn to discipline Jason.
HE’S ALL YOURS!”
”Oh no! Please, dear Sisters, DON’T!” Jason cried out. ”This can’t be
happening!” But the Sisters beamed with delight. This was what they’d been
waiting for.
First, they took positions around the cross, surrounding him, surrounding his exposed,
helpless, invitingly ticklish body. Then they began tickling Jason all over at once.
This mass attack was hideously effective. Jason broke into convulsive laughter.
As he bellowed hysterically, one Sister exclaimed, “See the sinful worm squirm!”
Another cried out, “And listen to him howl!”
And they mocked him unrelentingly. “Oh, Jason, you’re so ticklish! You’re as ticklish
as a woman!” He found that last remark especially embarrassing.
“Oh, dear Sisters! Please stop! Please have mercy!” he pleaded during a pause.
“Why should we? You know you deserve this, you rascal!” one of them chided.
Throughout his ordeal, the Sisters wore the most disquieting grins, revealing the dark
pleasure that they were deriving from tickling him, and thereby humiliating him.
There was more than a hint of cruelty in their eyes.
Then the Abbess made them stop to let him rest awhile.
They had reached the point where merely wiggling their fingers near his body made him
squirm and giggle–and beg, “Oh, please, no!”
They regarded him with deep satisfaction, delighted by his exhaustion and humiliation.
They took sinful pleasure in seeing how they had reduced him to a squirming, giggling
blob.
Then the Abbess began her final assault. Her nimble fingers mercilessly worked over
his deliciously ticklish body—from his armpits to his feet.
Tears streamed down his face, and he laughed louder and longer than ever before in
his life.
As ever, the Sisters were delighted, both by her virtuosity, and by her victim’s maniacal
shrieking.
She pressed on, fiendishly tickling him without mercy. Jason experienced the most
maddening tickling sensations imaginable.
Finally, and most humiliatingly, he climaxed in his shorts (copiously). The Abbess
smiled in amusement, and some of the Sisters blushed. But Jason was dreadfully
humiliated.
The climaxing served to enhance his already heightened ticklishness. Soon he cried
out loudly in ticklish agony, agony so intense that he lost consciousness.
The Sisters smiled with sinful delight. In spite of themselves, several were
overwhelmed by fiercely passionate climaxes. The Abbess was most pleased by their
reactions. (Later, in her quarters, she would bring about a thrilling climax of her own.)
When he awoke, Jason had been unfastened, and the Sisters had gone. He lay on a
plush sofa, and slowly recovered as the Abbess sat by quietly.
Finally, he spoke. She beamed with pleasure when he asked, “When may I return
for more penance?”
The Abbess had invited Jason to visit her Convent. It was the motherhouse of
The Sisters of Penance, one of the more obscure religious orders. Upon his arrival,
she greeted him warmly, and served coffee.
During the conversation, she made a startling disclosure. “The name of our Order
indicates our mission: to impose penance on sinners. Specifically, the penance takes
the form of tickling."
Now Jason knew why she had lured him to the Convent. She must have discovered
his secret.
He felt himself growing drowsy, and he soon fell asleep. When he awoke, he was tied
to an X-shaped cross. Except for his shorts, he was naked.
The Abbess was now accompanied by several other nuns, who smiled at Jason
impishly. Like the Abbess, they were all well into middle age.
She said to them, “Jason is a wicked young man. It’s come to my attention that he
takes pleasure in tickling women. Isn’t that sinful?” Smiling in mock indignation, they
agreed that “It most certainly is!”
“But we know the perfect penance for him, don’t we?” The Sisters nodded in
agreement.
Then she drew her nails across Jason’s stomach, making him squirm and laugh
heartily. “Well, it seems that Jason is a very ticklish ‘penitent’ indeed!” she
observed, stressing the euphemism for victim.
She resumed tickling his stomach, making him laugh uncontrollably. “Kooch-
kooch-kooch,” she taunted.
Then he squealed as she tickled his armpits. “Kitchee-kitchee-koo! Doesn’t he
laugh beautifully?” she asked. The others cheerily agreed that he did.
She reminded them, “As you know, I always augment my tickling with verbal taunts to
increase the penitent’s humiliation. I’m a great believer in humiliation as a component
of tickle penance.”
“When dealing with an adolescent boy or a grown man, I use childish taunts like
‘Kitchee-kitchee-koo.’ That’s because tickling reduces an older male to the level
of a blubbering little boy, something that he finds unspeakably embarrassing.”
“And his embarrassment is considerably greater when the tickle penance is imposed
by nuns,” she added knowingly, winking at the others, who smiled in acknowledgment.
Jason groaned because she was so right. In addition, he sensed that her observations
were addressed more to him than to the Sisters, who would already be familiar with
the Order’s practices. He would hear more such comments.
She tickled his feet, playfully at first. “No! Please! Not my feet!” he cried out.
But then she began a merciless foot tickling, accompanied by “Ickle-tickle-tickle!”
He went wild, writhing as much as the bonds would allow, and howling with laughter.
She paused to remark, “There is something elemental about tickling the feet. Many
people who can tolerate (or who even enjoy) being tickled elsewhere find foot
tickling utterly unbearable!”
“On the other hand, some people actually like having their feet tickled. We must
always be on the alert for such subjects, and adjust their penance accordingly.”
Next, she started tickling his ribs vigorously, while regaling him with “Itchee-kitchee-
kitchee!” He responded with boisterous laughter.
Then he again found himself squealing as she deftly tickled his breasts. “Remember
that a male’s breasts can be as ticklish as our own are.”
As always, the Sisters were delighted by the Abbess’s tickling expertise and insights.
“Now we’ll employ our customary atonement tools,” she said, displaying two electric
toothbrushes of a type noted for its brisk vibrations. The Sisters smiled in anticipation,
but Jason gasped.
The Abbess observed, “For the ultimate in tickle penance, nothing is more effective
than the atonement tools. Since they are especially effective on the feet, we’ll start
there.”
She had tied back his toes, enabling her to tickle his feet with great effect. He writhed
frantically, and bellowed with laughter. Because the Sisters always thoroughly enjoyed
foot tickling, she kept it up awhile.
She next turned her attention to the rest of his helpless body. Smiling mischievously,
she glided her tools over his armpits, breasts, ribs, stomach, and inner thighs. This
assault drove him to new levels of hilarity.
“Oh, Mother, this is so cruel! Please stop!” he cried between wails of tortured
laughter. She commented to the others, “I love it when a penitent begs for mercy,
don’t you?” They indicated that they surely did.
Then she put her toys aside, and resumed the tickle torture using her fingers. Jason
shrieked in ticklish agony as the sensations exploded in his brain.
Roars of hysterical laughter issued forth from her hapless “penitent.” Jason shook the
room with the vibrations of his howling laughter.
Then she paused and whispered to him, “You never knew that tickling could be such
torture, did you, Jason? And you certainly never dreamed that someday you’d
be tickled for your transgressions, did you?”
“No, no!” he moaned. “Well, that’s the wages of sin,” she retorted.
Then Jason began begging frantically, “Oh, Mother, please have mercy! I can’t
stand it! I’m too ticklish for this! I’M TOO TICKLISH!”
“Do you hear that, Sisters?” the Abbess asked. “The tickler is too ticklish for this.
How delightful!” They all laughed heartily.
Then she said aloud, “I have a confession to make. I’m especially enjoying humiliating
Jason. This must be unspeakably embarrassing for him. Isn’t that right, Jason?”
He groaned in agreement.
“I could keep this up forever,” she confided further. “This is my idea of Heaven: tickling
a sinner forever.” Jason shuddered at the thought of an eternity of tickle torture.
Then she announced, “All right, Sisters. Now it’s your turn to discipline Jason.
HE’S ALL YOURS!”
”Oh no! Please, dear Sisters, DON’T!” Jason cried out. ”This can’t be
happening!” But the Sisters beamed with delight. This was what they’d been
waiting for.
First, they took positions around the cross, surrounding him, surrounding his exposed,
helpless, invitingly ticklish body. Then they began tickling Jason all over at once.
This mass attack was hideously effective. Jason broke into convulsive laughter.
As he bellowed hysterically, one Sister exclaimed, “See the sinful worm squirm!”
Another cried out, “And listen to him howl!”
And they mocked him unrelentingly. “Oh, Jason, you’re so ticklish! You’re as ticklish
as a woman!” He found that last remark especially embarrassing.
“Oh, dear Sisters! Please stop! Please have mercy!” he pleaded during a pause.
“Why should we? You know you deserve this, you rascal!” one of them chided.
Throughout his ordeal, the Sisters wore the most disquieting grins, revealing the dark
pleasure that they were deriving from tickling him, and thereby humiliating him.
There was more than a hint of cruelty in their eyes.
Then the Abbess made them stop to let him rest awhile.
They had reached the point where merely wiggling their fingers near his body made him
squirm and giggle–and beg, “Oh, please, no!”
They regarded him with deep satisfaction, delighted by his exhaustion and humiliation.
They took sinful pleasure in seeing how they had reduced him to a squirming, giggling
blob.
Then the Abbess began her final assault. Her nimble fingers mercilessly worked over
his deliciously ticklish body—from his armpits to his feet.
Tears streamed down his face, and he laughed louder and longer than ever before in
his life.
As ever, the Sisters were delighted, both by her virtuosity, and by her victim’s maniacal
shrieking.
She pressed on, fiendishly tickling him without mercy. Jason experienced the most
maddening tickling sensations imaginable.
Finally, and most humiliatingly, he climaxed in his shorts (copiously). The Abbess
smiled in amusement, and some of the Sisters blushed. But Jason was dreadfully
humiliated.
The climaxing served to enhance his already heightened ticklishness. Soon he cried
out loudly in ticklish agony, agony so intense that he lost consciousness.
The Sisters smiled with sinful delight. In spite of themselves, several were
overwhelmed by fiercely passionate climaxes. The Abbess was most pleased by their
reactions. (Later, in her quarters, she would bring about a thrilling climax of her own.)
When he awoke, Jason had been unfastened, and the Sisters had gone. He lay on a
plush sofa, and slowly recovered as the Abbess sat by quietly.
Finally, he spoke. She beamed with pleasure when he asked, “When may I return
for more penance?”
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Where is this convent? 
