It's always good to see more people tackling this abomination. I wanted to point out a few things:

1) Subs IRL can end the relationship at any time. This contract says that ana can "submit a request" if she isn't exploring her sexuality (Christian pulls the "I have more experience so I know your body better than you" card), she is sick (he'd just call a doctor), he doesn't fulfill his part of the contract (he lies constantly and moves the goalposts so that Ana always falls short), or he endangers her (*sarcastic laughter*).
2) The "hard limits" list are the things he absolutely refuses. HL mean "NO, and that's not negotiable". He gives her a list of possible activities to consent/set as soft limits(I want to try, but with caution)/hard limits, but he steamrolls her reserves on caning and anal.
3) This isn't a Dom/sub contract. Ketmakura on Das-Sporking pointed out that this is a Master/Slave relationship- it extends outside the bedroom and the slave has far less rights. And even then, the slave can leave the relationship at any time.
4) Speaking of contracts, they aren't legally binding. In real-life BDSM, they're basically roleplay props. Yet Ana thinks it's legal. She later discovers that it's not, and in chapter 13 she confronts Christian and asks him when he would've told her so. He never gives a straight answer.

In the book after Christian is hitting Anna with the belt. In the movie they changed it. The movie executives recognized the abuse in the books, the violence, control of this innocent young women.

 “And you rolled your eyes at me. You know how I feel about that.” Suddenly, it’s gone – that nervous edgy fear in his voice. He’s back from wherever he’s been. I hear it in his tone, in the way he places his fingers on my back, holding me – and the atmosphere in the room changes.
I close my eyes, bracing myself for the blow. It comes hard, snapping across my backside, and the bite of the belt is everything I feared. I cry out involuntarily, and take a huge gulp of air.

“Count, Anastasia!” he commands.

“One!” I shout at him, and it sounds like an expletive.
He hits me again, and the pain pulses and echoes along the line of the belt. Holy shit… that smarts.

“Two!” I scream. It feels so good to scream. (instead of stopping right there he keeps going, she was sobbing he would have seen this heard it, he got off on it.)

 
His breathing is ragged and harsh. Whereas mine is almost non-existent as I desperately scrabble around my psyche looking for some internal strength. The belt cuts into my flesh again.

“Three!” Tears spring unwelcome into my eyes. Jeez – this is harder than I thought – so much harder than the spanking. He’s not holding anything back.

“Four!” I yell as the belt bites me again, and now the tears are streaming down my face. I don’t want to cry. It angers me that I am crying. He hits me again.

 “Five.” My voice is more a choked, strangled sob, and in this moment, I think I hate him. One more, I can do one more. My backside feels as if it’s on fire.

“Six,” I whisper as the blistering pain cuts across me again, and I hear him drop the belt behind me, and he’s pulling me into his arms, all breathless and compassionate… and I want none of him.

“Let go… no... ” And I find myself struggling out his grasp, pushing him away. Fighting him.
“Don’t touch me!” I hiss. I straighten and stare at him, and he’s watching me as if I might bolt, gray eyes wide, bemused. I dash the tears angrily out of my eyes with the backs of my hands, glaring at him.
“This is what you really like? Me, like this?” I use the sleeve of the bathrobe to wipe my nose.
He gazes at me warily.
“Well, you are one fucked-up son of a bitch.”
“Ana,” he pleads, shocked.
“Don’t you dare, Ana me! You need to sort your shit out, Grey!” And with that, I turn stiffly, and I walk out of the playroom, closing the door quietly behind me.

I clasp the door handle behind me and briefly lean back against the door. Where to go? Do I run? Do I stay? I am so mad, angry scalding tears spill down my cheeks, and I brush them furiously aside. I just want to curl up. Curl up and recuperate in some way. Heal my shattered faith. How could I have been so stupid? Of course it hurts.

Tentatively, I rub my backside. Aah! It’s sore. Where to go? Not his room. My room, or the room that will be mine, no, is mine… was mine. This is why he wanted me to keep it. He knew I would need distance from him.

I launch myself stiffly in that direction, conscious that Christian may follow me. It is still dark in the bedroom, dawn only a whisper in the skyline. I climb awkwardly into bed, careful not to sit on my aching and tender backside. I keep the bathrobe on, wrapping it around me, and curl up and really let go – sobbing hard into my pillow.
What was I thinking? Why did I let him do that to me? I wanted the dark, to explore how bad it could be – but it’s too dark for me. I cannot do this. Yet, this is what he does, this is how he gets his kicks.
What a monumental wake-up call.

He’s not normal. He has needs that I cannot fulfill. I realize that now. I don’t want him to hit me like that again, ever. I think of the couple of times he has hit me, and how easy he was on me by comparison. Is that enough for him? I sob harder into the pillow. I am going to lose him. He won’t want to be with me if I can’t give him this.

“Don’t hate me,” he breathes softly against my skin, his voice achingly sad. My heart clenches anew and releases a fresh wave of silent sobbing. He continues to kiss me softly, tenderly, but I remain aloof and wary.

We lie together like this, neither saying anything for ages. He just holds me, and very gradually, I relax and stop crying. Dawn comes and goes, and the soft light gets brighter as morning moves on, and still we lie quietly.
“I bought you some Advil and some arnica cream,” he says after a long while.
I turn very slowly in his arms so I can face him. I am resting my head on his arm. His eyes are flinty gray and guarded.

I gaze at his beautiful face. He’s giving nothing away, but he keeps his eyes on mine, hardly blinking. Oh, he is so breathtakingly good-looking. In such a short time, he’s become so, so dear to me. Reaching up, I caress his cheek and run the tips of my fingers through his stubble. He closes his eyes and exhales slightly.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“I asked for it.” And now I know. I swallow. Here goes. I need to say my piece. “I don’t think I can be everything you want me to be,” I whisper. His eyes widen slightly, and he blinks, his fearful expression returning. (Anna still thinks it is her fault, she is apologizing to this asshole for abusing her. He could have just said no if he cared, when she asked him to show her how bad it could be. He knew she was innocent, fragile and he took advantage of this.)
“You are everything I want you to be.”
What?
“I don’t understand. I’m not obedient, and you can be as sure as hell I’m not going to let you do that to me again. And that’s what you need, you said so.”
He closes his eyes again, and I can see a myriad of emotions cross his face. When he reopens them, his expression is bleak. Oh no.
“You’re right. I should let you go. I am no good for you.”

I gaze at myself in the mirror. A pale and haunted ghost stares back at me. I scoop my hair into a ponytail and ignore how swollen my eyelids are from the crying. My subconscious nods with approval. Even she knows not to be snarky right now. I cannot believe that my world is crumbling around me into a sterile pile of ashes, all my hopes and dreams cruelly dashed. No, no don’t think about it. Not now, not yet. Taking a deep breath, I pick up my case, and after placing the glider kit and my note on his pillow, I head for the great room.
Christian is on the phone. He’s dressed in black jeans and t-shirt. His feet are bare.
“He said what!” he shouts, making me jump.

He narrows his eyes, but I’m no longer intimidated by him. Well, only a little. I gaze impassively back, not blinking or backing down.
“Will you take a check?” he says acidly.
“Yes. I think you’re good for it.”
He doesn’t smile, he just turns on his heel and stalks into his study.

“Taylor got a good price. It’s a classic car. You can ask him. He’ll take you home.” He nods in the direction over my shoulder. I turn, and Taylor is standing in the doorway, wearing his suit, as impeccable as ever.
“That’s fine, I can get myself home, thank you.”
I turn to stare at Christian, and I see the barely-contained fury in his eyes.
“Are you going to defy me at every turn?” (Christian is still pissed at Anna, angry, she is standing up to him, he really doesn't see the wrong in any of his actions.)

I turn back to face Christian. We are four feet apart. He steps forward, and instinctively I step back. He stops, and the anguish in his expression is palpable, his gray eyes burning.
“I don’t want you to go,” he murmurs, his voice full of longing.
“I can’t stay. I know what I want and you can’t give it to me, and I can’t give you what you need.”
He takes another step forward, and I hold up my hands.
“Don’t, please.” I recoil from him. There’s no way I can tolerate his touch now, it will slay me. “I can’t do this.”
Grabbing my suitcase and my backpack, I head for the foyer. He follows me, keeping a careful distance. He presses the elevator button, and the doors open. I climb in.
“Goodbye, Christian,” I murmur.
“Ana, goodbye,” he says softly,
The elevator doors close, and it whisks me down to the bowels of the basement and to my own personal hell.

Taylor holds the door open for me, and I climb into the back of the car. I avoid eye contact. Embarrassment and shame washes over me. I’m a complete failure. (here Anna is still blaming herself says she is a failure because she basically didn't pass his slave test of being beaten and loving it.)

 In the movie they changed the ending.....Anastasia gets in the elevator when Christian goes to go near her "STOP---NO" very loudly and her eyes look straight through him.

Again movie executives recognized the brutality of the act by Christian, His lack of real remorse, compassion for what he had done. No Advil and arnica cream in the movie. (suffer in pain Anna)

They gave Anna a spine in the movie, she doesn't apologize to Christian like she does in the book. The book she grovels to Christian, saying she is sorry it was her fault. 

In the movie that never happens, she stands her ground, saying he will not do that to her again. 

Having you bend over a table and have your bare ass whipped with force of a leather belt to the count of 10 is not love, that is violent abuse like Christian Grey did. If you love someone you would never do that in the first place, you would simply out right refuse to do this.
Here is the reality of what your ass would like like after even five lashes of a leather belt when you are whipped by Christen Grey in the books and movie; red raw, skin broken and you are bleeding, yes people you are bleeding, in so much pain. Bruises form, dark purple bruises that take months to go away. You have a job to sit for months. That's after five lashes not 10. After ten you need to get medical attention. It would take 3-6 months to heal from a beating like that across your ass, i should know. Doing this to a person is neither love or respect or bloody romance; it is control, abuse and a complete Psychopath who does this, and it is certainly not BDSM.