How Mel B’s raunchy threesome ‘turned into a nightmare’ and left her traumatised after bully ex-husband Stephen Bellafonte filmed them
Mel B recounts the moment she realised she had made sex video with husband Stephen Belafonte and another woman
IN an exclusive extract from her brand new autobiography, Mel B has revealed how her raunchy threesomes with her ex Stephen Belafonte turned into a nightmare.
The former Spice Girl serialised Brutally Honest in The Sun On Sunday and here, she tells her fans how her life spiralled out of control.
IT happened a few months after we got married. I woke up with a shock.
The night before, Stephen and I had had a threesome with another woman.
Remembering that it had been videoed, I jolted awake. A video. A sex video.
In my mind, I could see my husband smiling at me, and something in his smile didn’t feel right. I felt as if I was falling in slow motion down a black hole, like a little girl in a nursery rhyme.
Read more from Mel B's 'Brutally Honest' autobiography:
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- Mel B relives horrifying attempted suicide bid where she ‘took nearly 200 aspirin pills’ amid her abusive marriage to ex-husband Stephen Belafonte
- Mel B sensationally admits to snorting SIX lines of cocaine a day while on The X Factor amid her abusive marriage to Stephen Belafonte
- Mel B’s horrified daughter Phoenix reveals bully ex-husband Stephen Belafonte ‘beat up her dog and LAUGHED when it was put down’
“What if the video gets leaked?” I thought. “What have I done?”
A thousand images flashed through my brain, some from the night before, repeats of scenes of naked bodies, alongside screaming headlines in the tabloids and my dad crying.
This was my dad, who was mortified by pictures of me appearing in newspapers that he and his mates had read at work, when I’d been snapped sunbathing topless a decade earlier.
But would this man that I’d just married, this man I was convinced was completely obsessed with me, seriously want to ruin me, take me down and control me like this? How could I get this so very wrong?
The threesome was my idea, but of course my then husband was well up for it — as long as there were no other men involved. It had to be women, which suited me fine because I love women. I’ve always found women’s bodies so much more beautiful than men’s bodies.
I have no issues with my sexuality. I’ve been in relationships with men and women. I don’t think it’s shameful to like sex, I don’t think it’s shameful to experiment — as long as it is all consensual — and I believe women can enjoy and initiate sex just as much (if not a whole lot more) than men.
I made a call and a friend of mine came over. We had a lot of champagne and a lot of fun. I fell asleep happy because we’d fulfilled a fantasy.
It was pretty much always pre-arranged with women we knew, lap-dancers we’d come across, or one of the very many LA party girls.
Stephen was desperate to make me entice other celebrities into our little sex web. Some girls said yes, some girls said no. I’m not going to mention names because I’m happy to reveal my darkest secrets, but I will never hold anything over anyone else and let them think they have anything to fear from me.
In the very early days it was fun. We’d go to a nightclub and pick out girls we found attractive.
We had similar tastes — toned bodies, an air of confidence, a couple of tattoos and a sexy way of dressing. I preferred blondes.
Stephen would watch the way someone danced and moved — you can tell everything about a woman’s sensuality by the way she dances. I’d invite them over for a drink.
It’s pretty easy when you are Mel B — people are really happy to talk to you. We’d have a drink and a chat and I’d see if I liked them.
I have to feel comfortable, feel I can trust someone and have a rapport beyond the physical. If it felt right, I’d ask them, “Do you want to come back to our room?”
It was usually me who asked because Stephen would say it’s more threatening for a man to ask, and I have no problems when it comes to asking someone if they want to have sex.
Unbeknown to me, Stephen knew a lot of the women already.
Sometimes it would all play out with us in one room together. Sometimes we would invite people to our house.
We were always on the top floor, several levels above the children, who would be asleep.
At home it was a different pattern. It was a game I had grown tired of. I wanted to stop. He didn’t.
Things would get nasty and I’d give in.
I would always make sure I got the girl home, that she was OK, that everything was OK. I grew quite close to some of these girls. I still see them every now and again and we talk. They are glad I’ve left him.
I know there are a lot of people out there (my mother included) who would never find this funny. Just seedy, sordid or another word beginning with “s”, like sleazy.
And I know there’s another layer of people thinking, “What about her kids?” And that’s where you have me. That’s what I’m dealing with now.
I thought, I genuinely believed, that my children were completely protected from the toxicity of our relationship.
I thought I could soak it up for all of us, that I could work hard to give them a good lifestyle, that they had clothes, good schools, decent food, fabulous holidays, so that meant my children were absolutely OK. I kissed them, I hugged them, I told them I loved them, and every single day I would try to think how I could build a different life for them.
“Just wait,” I’d tell Phoenix. “I know what I’m doing. I have a plan.”
I don’t think either of us realised ten years would pass before that plan came to fruition.
In March 2017, soon after I walked away from my husband, I began a court case. The initial charges involved domestic violence.
But by November 2017, as part of a mediation settlement, I agreed to drop domestic violence charges in order for all the 64 sex tapes he had made during our marriage not to be shown in open court.
I couldn’t deal with it any more, I couldn’t deal with him any more. If they were shown then they would enter the public domain.
Such are the deals we make. Looking back now, that was a deal I regret.
That was the most difficult time for me. You see, I had to sit down and watch those tapes. It was a legal requirement, believe it or not. And you might think, “So what? You’re in them, aren’t you? Having sex with whoever. It’s no big deal you had to watch them.”
I understand why you might think that, but what I am trying to do for myself, and for any other woman who has ever found themselves going through anything like my situation, is to explain that nothing is ever that simple or clear-cut.
Follow this line and see where it becomes blurred. All these statements are true . . .
I like sex. I am adventurous with sex. I have enjoyed threesomes. I have initiated threesomes.
I enjoy a woman’s body and I enjoy a man’s body. I have participated in threesomes while being videoed.
I have taken drugs. I have drunk alcohol. I have had threesomes to please my partner. I have no memory of some of the sexual situations I have seen myself in on video. I am frightened when I see myself in some of these videos. I have seen myself used sexually in a way that I did not enjoy or want.
Traumatised. It is an understatement.
I could not watch those videos in my house. I couldn’t have the children anywhere near them, or near me, when I saw them.
I went to a small hotel in Koreatown [in Los Angeles] with Gary, my friend. Initially, the videos made me feel uncomfortable.
There were hours of them. And they were not only sex tapes, they were videos Stephen had made on his phone when I was visibly out of it, with him shouting, “Get up, Melanie”, again and again, as I struggled to get to my feet or even comprehend what he was saying.
Phoenix was in a few of them, dragged in to see her mother in a state. I saw her face. I saw my face. I didn’t recognise it. This wasn’t me.
I remember lying on the bed in that hotel room in Koreatown in the foetal position. Other images played across a screen in my mind, dredged from the vaults deep in my brain that I had previously blocked myself remembering. I saw in flashes.
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Me waking up in pools of p**s, vomit, s**t and blood, being mortified, dragging myself up and rolling up my white sheets. Stuffing them soiled and filthy into bin bags, showering over and over again.
I wasn’t crying, because I was in a place beyond tears, but I was making strange, uncontrollable animal whimpers.
- BRUTALLY Honest by Melanie Brown with Louise Gannon (Quadrille, £17.99) is published on November 27. The audiobook is available exclusively on .
- Adapted by Sean Hamilton.