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But I did not think the peasant, that violent giant, that simple, outraged behemoth of a man, in his present state of mind, in his agitation, in the singleness of his purpose, in this ferocious, puissant concentration of all of his force, his power, against iron and rock, was troubled by pain, or even capable of feeling it. - (Witness of Gor, Chapter 31, Sentence #429)

Doubtless it was an optical illusion, given the confinement of the cell, his now being upright, not sitting, his pulsing to his full stature, then bending down, like a bull, straining, muscles bulging, pulling outward. Then straightening up, then again bending down, again pulling forward. "He will tear his limbs from his body," said a man. But I did not think the peasant, that violent giant, that simple, outraged behemoth of a man, in his present state of mind, in his agitation, in the singleness of his purpose, in this ferocious, puissant concentration of all of his force, his power, against iron and rock, was troubled by pain, or even capable of feeling it. Again and again the chains drew against the rings. It seemed that a draft beast of enormous size could have exerted little more stress on that metal. Some of the men then laughed. - (Witness of Gor)