MEASURED Honesty.

"Lady Hellsing, while I did enjoy our little tryst tonight, and while I am willing to give you the benefit of the doubt for now, you said yourself that you are not the kind of woman I normally have long term relationships with. I am quite willing to wait and see if you adapt to become more in line with my desires and proclivities, but for now I don't want to use any title as permanent and binding as 'concubine'. Perhaps we can agree to something more fluid, such as 'fuck buddies', but I would not want to give you unreasonable expectations of where this, for want of a better term, 'relationship', will wind up." You explain, trying to both not set up unreasonable expectations in either her, or more importantly, yourself. ~The way relationships which are long term but ultimately unsatisfactory for me typically end is with the offending woman's ****.~ You think but do not say.

"I can understand that." She says, taking a towel out from under the side of the bed by the wall and putting it against her crotch, where your seed is starting to trickle out and stain the sheets. "But I wish to warn you, the elders of the church expect you to pick a concubine tonight, so that you will start to add the divine blood of Lorchos back into the races of the world, and you could do worse than pick me."

"How permanent do they expect my relationship with this concubine to be?" You ask carefully, not wising to inform her just yet how unacceptable you find taking orders from anyone other than your divine father himself.

"I don't know, I am a lowly acolyte in the broader church, such decisions are far above me in station." Integral says, looking at you strangely, almost as if guessing your intentions already.

"Lady Hellsing, I am the son of Lorchos himself, yes?" You intone, standing to your full height and looking her over where she lies on the bed, adorned only in a towel slowly soaking up your cum. You have to admit she is beautiful, flawless white skin, lovely breasts spread apart by gravity with their bluish nipples, her hair looking blonder in the dark, glasses un-reflective with no light to shine on them, and the eyes beyond like the color of a glacier, while hidden under the dirty towel you know is a pussy as pink and lovely as any in the world, and so blessedly deep!

"That is certainly true." She allows after a second, drinking in the sight of your 'Eggplant' black skin and rippling muscles, which contrast strangely with your pronounced 'roman' nose and otherwise equally Caucasian facial features.

"Who is higher rank in your estimation, a god's only son, blood of his blood and flesh of his flesh: or his high priest?" You ask. Her answer here will tell you much...