Las Vegas Femdom Madame Wanted! “It’s Helpful Hunk Needs A Wingchick to Control the Strip—And Him”

I don't want a secretary. I want a silk-draped seductress, card-shark goddess who can bluff the best of them, fish-hooking horny, financially considerate divas seeking my helpful hunk talents, then shut me up with one manicured finger pressed to my lips, sending me on my mission to please.

Take Felicity—56 (hypothetically): mulatto-Thai fire in a pencil dress—might be customer service in a beauty salon or concierge in any number of Las Vegas casino resorts. You spot high roller divas, flip comps, and whisper house odds that sound like foreplay, connecting local ladies and tourists to an electrifyingly discreet experience with Mr. Flourish, Las Vegas's best kept secret for local ladies seeking quality male companionship.

Now spot me. I'm Ray. Helpful Hunk to the online community, suckling "soul snatcher" on the down-low. I placed one cryptic ad for a "Spokeswoman" on Craigslist and you read between the velvet lines:

- A private stable of alpha-cash ladyfriends begging for blue-chip denial.

- A penthouse command center where you set the rules, set the price, set the pace.

- An eager and enthusiastic cunninglinguist (that's me) on his knees the second you text "saucy."

You'll arbitrage lust the way you arbitrage comps: effortlessly. Market me, milk them, melt me. Where the Vegas lights flicker for attention. I flick harder.

My role is clear: when there's a dollar to be made from mature 50+ ladies with "handyman" needs or strong intimate desires in Las Vegas, I'm ready to work. Unyielding appetite for the many unique flavors of feminine cooze, I can finish a back rub with a Cliteracy demonstration or hard, deep breeding and seeding. Imagine a potential client booking a 5am appointment to see me for an hour in her suite at Resorts World hypothetically. Hungry like a werewolf, polished as a gentleman, I'm as helpful as I can be. With my passionate assistance, she achieves a magnificent "Geyser Like Squirting" bedsheet-soaking climax. I've quenched my thirst temporarily. I'd hop back on the bus with her scent on my beard and mustache. I'd Zelle or CashApp you your portion while on my bus ride back to my room rental. I'm always available. Use me.

Tell me, Madame—are you ready to collect your first jackpot?

*Side note... To my potential Madame, I'm serious about this. I want to make us some money and I yearn to please women old enough to be my auntie! (I need to be slutted out, mami.) I'm a moonlighter preparing to buy my first foreclosed home in Oregon and $12/hr here in Vegas won't cut it. So discreetly market me as a private handyman, stress relief and intimate relations coach, masseur, late night wine sipping boytoy or casino slot companion. I love all ethnicities and nationalities. Not every appointment booked has to end with sexual relations. You're my next client's excuse to let her guard down, put her hair up and receive the quality of women's empowerment she's often fantasized about.

Oh and just for the record, sleeping with "Mr. Flourish" is not a prerequisite for accepting this position. He just happens to be an eligible black bachelor and businessman secretly seeking a wife and prosperity partner.

This isn't as hard as past applicants have thought.