"I'm about to use my safe word."

To say I contemplated how far I've come while my hands were restrained above my head, legs open and restrained to the floor, would be false.

My mind was squarely on the flogger licking across my back, thighs, bottom and breasts. Its flickering heat, a combination of caresses and stings, drove every other thought from my mind save the here-and-now. I alternated between loving and hating the sensation, wanting more and less, needing it to continue and stop.

As we progressed, my mind shifted from the flogger to the manner in which I was restrained. I could only twist my body slightly, instinctively moving away from the implement and the pinching, punishing touch of my Dom. I do not like to disappoint and always want the play to go on, so my safe word is hardly an option. But I got close.

So close that I actually said, in classic "me" fashion, "I'm about to use my safe word." I didn't say the actual word, but it was there, on the tip of my tongue and in the forefront of my mind, begging to be spoken.

The issue was not the flogger raining down on my bottom, wrapping around my thighs. No, it was that I could no longer feel my hands. I began to wonder if I had hands or arms at all, such was the utter lack of feeling in them. So instead of focusing on the work of the flogger and the experience of being restrained, I persistently tried to wiggle my fingers and move my arms to the point of near-panic.

Evidently, muttering "I'm about to use my safe word", was good enough for him, as our play stopped and he removed my hands from the overhead hook. Needles immediately shot through my fingers, which wouldn't regain normal sensation for almost an hour afterward.

My question is: why can't I say it? Why can't I say the word? Do I put so much pressure on myself that admitting I can't take any more makes me feel weak?

I almost need two safe words: one to announce the arrival of the other.

How silly is that?