Logan tried to change the shape of his legs, but no matter how hard he kicked his feet his thighs remained spread, his legs always splayed into a diamond shape, until the rope would be unknotted.

From the tray of tools, The Masked Man picked up an ancient looking yet deviously sharp knife.

“Be still,” The Masked Man warned, “The only liquid we want out of you is creamy white, not crimson …”

Logan grimaced, “Dude,” he watched the blade near his underwear, “That is so fucked up!” He could not control a tiny gasp leaving his lips as the chill of the knife made impact with the very betweens of his thighs as the tool began to slice, cut and rip away at his Calvin Kleins, “Oh man, come on, seriously? I gotta be naked? Mnn, this aren’t cheap!”

The other two Masked Men supported their team mate by helping to remove Logan’s underwear - as the scissors cut into the cotton, shredded material fell apart against Logan’s squirming, huffing and groaning will, revealing intimate parts of Logan’s manhood; his plump, hairless balls, his surprisingly large, juicy cock, his smooth taint and tight, tiny butt hole - he always tried to move away, he always stretched his legs inward if he could, or bend his arms over his head, but the rope that pinned him in his seated position was tied far too tight - The Masked Men were quick, they had either practised this on someone before or they had done it hundreds, possibly thousands of times in the past - either way, in a matter of moments, whether Logan wanted it to happen or not, he was forced into the most bare and exposed version of himself, on top of a seat unknowingly purchased from Ikea at just thirty euros.

Logan felt smaller, his levels of intimidation growing faster than he would ever admit - he had never been exposed like this, entirely nude amongst strangers - he began to search the corners of The Room for any hidden cameras or CCTV, the last thing he would want was any of the other contestants, especially Sebastian, to see him like this …

Eventually, Logan slumped into a heap of dismay and defeat, his anguish and anxiety not shaping itself out in the form of yells, demands or protests, instead he simply smiled in reluctant acceptance and whispered out the words, “Well fuck.”

“You’re not as squeamish as we recall,” The Masked Man noted, the door to The Room opening only momentarily for a black gloved hand to pass the team a yellow, plastic cock ring, “You seem a little less scared, a little more ready …” The Room door closed and the cock ring made its way towards Logan’s manhood, “… Ironic, considering how this will likely obliterate any of your previous experiences, in regards to the minimal learnings that we have introduced to you in the past …”

Logan looked up at the three Masked Men standing before him, the stranger in the middle now holding onto the cock ring.

“I mean, my uh, my heart is quite literally beating out of my chest,” Logan tried to close his legs as The Masked Man knelt down and carefully wedged the cock ring around his flaccid manhood, “Wait! How, how long does this go on for?” He tried to thrash his waist, to arch his back, to twist his hips, but his privacy was exploited, his most delicate and only seen by he and his girlfriend body part lifted, moved, wedged and utilized to an advantage that did not belong to him.

Two Masked Men approached the table and tray, “You have exactly one hour,” explained The Masked Man to the left, “No more, no less,” besides the many tools was a small timer, its setting switched to sixty minutes, “If you ejaculate within that time, we win. If you do not ejaculate within that time, you win,” explained The Masked Man to the right.

Once The Masked Man was happy with how firmly snug the cock ring sat around the base of Logan’s impressive chunk of a penis, he stood and joined his team by the tray of tools.

“My mind just deals with getting through this shit,” Logan tugged at his bonds, his armpits feeling a little too open, “I promise you, there’s more chance of me pissing myself then busting my …”

… The Masked Man in the middle of the team of three tilted his head.

“We’ll see about that,” he warned.

Carefully, each Masked Man picked up their own desired tool from the tray.

Logan’s mouth fell open as he realised all three of the Masked Men would be tickling him, not just one at a time like his previous moments with Michael, Brad or Evans …

… This would be a gang tickling of sorts, a dire situation and an overwhelming circumstance that Logan felt immediately unhappy with experiencing, especially when he saw a feather in one Masked Man’s hand, an electric toothbrush in the second Masked Man’s hand and a bottle of lubrication in the third Masked Man’s hand …

“Lube? Honestly, this is so unnecessary!—”, Logan started to thrash and roll within his bondage, his short frame only able to twist and bend within the rope binding him to the leather seat, “No! Come on! All three at once? I, I didn’t do anything! This is, it’s favouritism!—”, The Masked Man with the feather and The Masked Man with the electric toothbrush stood behind the chair, leaving the third Masked Man to crouch at the base of the recliner where he could reach over Logan’s feet and legs and douce his flaccid, cock-ring-snug manhood with the lube, “—I, I told you were Stan was, for god’s sake—”, Logan practically whimpered, “—I helped you guys out, mnn!—”

Logan’s eyes widened at the sight of thick, gel-like liquid oozing over his balls, his limp dick, his hair-less taint, “—Oh, god!—”, it felt chilly and wet to start but warmed up straight away, the shimmering glisten now coating the entirety of his manhood as the feather began to stroke across the left side of his face, the electric toothbrush switching on — click, bzzzzz — the fast paced vibrating bristles now nearing his right armpit …

Before Logan could even think about allowing it, haggered giggles and breathless laughter erupted from his mouth as his underarms fell victim to the electric toothbrush and now the feather, which had started to flicker across his left armpit.

He reluctantly shuddered with an inability to cope, his chest heaving in and out as he twisted and writhed like a fish caught in a net, the ropes keeping him firmly in place; his cheeks began to boil a faint pink as he glared down at the tools now all too present within his armpits, their touch ever so gentle, their tip barely grazing the sensitive, soft flesh that made up the space between his shoulders and pecs; he transformed from frantic and protesting to shambolic and spoiled, his heels pressing against the surface of the red recliner as his head rolled from left to right, his throat now thick with gentle hysteria that was sturdy enough for him to begin to lose his breath.

“O, o, okay, okay—” Logan found himself sneering uncontrollably, grinning automatically, his bushy brown eyebrows lifting into a high arched crease, “—I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please—”, he was a pussy when it came to being tickled, a frightful, angst ridden fool that would do anything to make it stop, even if the electric toothbrush and feather had only been inside his underarms for less than fifteen seconds, “—Okay, I can’t take it, enough, enough!—”, the electric toothbrush nudged ever so faintly, the feather flickered with the strength of air, the tickling in itself was entirely like what his other teammates had experienced in the past yet here Logan was, staggering for breath and wondering why his cock had grown into a semi erect stance …

“N, no?—”, Logan’s blue eyes became cartoonish, bulging, their shape taking in the sight of his penis and its thickening size as The Masked Man at the bottom of the recliner began to stroke his manhood with the leather of his glove, “—What, what are you doing!—”, he struggled to compartmentalise his circumstance, his shoulders and chest always bulging and squirming as his underarms fell victim to the constant presence of a simple feather and a tool meant for your teeth, not your armpits, “—Sssstop, stop it! I, I mean it, I’m gonna fucking scream!—” Logan felt confused as to what he was begging to stop, the focus to his armpits or the attention to his erection, an erection so well coated by lube that it had begun to stand with shining strength, much to his surprise, “—N, n, no! Let it go, let it go, get offa me!—”

To help further increase Logan’s distress and confusion, The Masked Man kneeling before his erection pressed a tiny button attached to the cock ring - this switched the device on, causing it to vibrate suddenly but with not enough strength that it distracted Logan - sure, he jolted in alarm and his face creased in uncertainty, but the buzz was agonisingly brilliant and frustratingly comforting, amongst the tormenting press of vibrating bristles and the slide of a feathers edge against the depths of his underarms.

“Wha, what! Turn, turn that thing—” off? The word did not leave Logan’s mouth, maybe because he did not want it to - instead he clenched his teeth as a bluster of hysterics blew out of his nose, causing his face to glow pink as he giggled in a high pitch, endless chortle, his helm beginning to glisten, his armpits starting to sweat, his entire body moving inches only within the ropes as The Masked Men behind him continued to stroke his underarms and The Masked Man between his legs persisted in caressing his twitching arousal again and again and again …

Suddenly, as if practised, all three Masked Men increased the loyal strength of their determined attack - Logan’s Hollywood-blue eyes bulged into golf balls as the electric toothbrush journeyed and buzzed quicker, the feather flickered and fluttered faster, the thwap thwap thwap thwap thrash of the leather grasp around his now rock hard, glistening cock grew firmer - Logan hurtled from side to side in a frenzy, “—Nn, nnuh, sss, sstop, sss, ssss—”, each beg for mercy was babbled and strained, his expression squashed and beetroot, “—Geh, get outta there!—”, he tried to bite and snap white teeth at the tools infiltrating each underarm, his hyper ticklish body allowed just enough give within the tightness of the restraints to always squirm and wriggle like a worm over the seat, “—Come on, I’m ssss, ssserious!—”, Logan whined through his constant laughter, his erection still receiving a repetitive stroke, his balls still swelling, his taint now throbbing …

… It all felt challenging to compartmentalise, but things grew far worse when the electric toothbrush and feather not only made their way to Logan’s nipples, but the hands of the Masked Men also decided to join in too.

Logan’s face now glistened with perspiration, his eyes were now bloodshot, his entire form saturated with a lunacy that had overwhelmed him too suddenly; all he could do was glance down at his nipples and address them with pure disbelief, his frantic kicks and high arches of his back informing his captors that he was struggling to handle the caress of fingertips, the bzzzz, bzzzz, bzzzz of the toothbrush, the tip of the feather across both nipples at the same time, “—I, I can’t, bre, bre, bre—”, he heaved and wheezed, dribbled and moaned, he felt abused mentally and physically, blown away by how these freaks had been able to get him this close, this desperate for release - he grimaced down at his erection, the fulfillment of pure joy bubbling across his exposed taint, am I about to cum? Is his really happening? - the vibration from the cock ring developed sensations never felt before, a never ending, unstoppable feeling that Logan wanted to end immediately, whilst also so very badly wanted to last, all day, all week, all month …

“I, I’m c, c, close!—”, Logan could not believe the words that left his mouth, he bit his lower lip to keep them in and he shook his head wildly, “—Please, no, don’t—”, he felt mystified by his language, his addiction to the pleasure, his dire need for this to finish, “—Why won’t you listen!—”, he did not want to cum, yet that is all he wanted, “—Let it, let it g, g, go—”, Logan could not take his eyes away from his cock and the gloved hold that massaged it, his nipples now pointed and sharp, the feeling of complete satisfaction causing an already breathless throat to gulp, hack, swallow and stiffen, “—I, ugh, ack!—”, the factual knowledge that it was real, that it was happening, that it was right now, it flooded Logan’s mind and made his eyes roll back into the depths of his head, his tormented laughter transforming into thrilled cackles …

… Until the orgasm did not leave his erection, the tickling stopped entirely, and all tools and fingertips left Logan’s body.

Logan lay squirming in distress, each tied back kick and bound punch symbolising how edged, angry and fucked off he was, “—What! I, I was cl—”, he clenched his teeth, the non-sexual segments of his psyche reminding him to not lose the game, “—Damnit!—”, his eyebrows burrowed into a stern frown as he evolved from smug and fully aware that he would not be made to cum, to weak and feverish, shaking and exceptionally aroused, his toes curling into a crunch, his arousal standing so tall and mighty that a stripper could spin from it, “—Just, just go a little bit, bit more? No tickling, just … Please?—”, those pearly white teeth clenched once again as heard how twisted and confused he sounded, had he really lost focus this quickly?

As two Masked Men placed down their tools and stood at either side of The Room’s door, Logan glared at his captors with resentment and rage in each pupil.

“This fucking thing!—”, he shot a furious look down to the cock ring wedged around his throb of manhood, “—Turn it off, I’m, I’m not thinking straight!—”, it continued its buzz, the bzzz, bzzz, bzzz noise now vibrating against the flesh of his taint, the device working as a mind control tool that he could not remove even if fifty percent of him wanted to, and fifty percent of him did not.

Suddenly, his vexation became replaced with genuine concern as an unexpected situation presented itself when the remaining third Masked Man removed his mask, revealing himself to be …